Short Story

Lukewarm
Every frosty morning for eleven winters, Joan Petrie scraped the windscreens on Rata Crescent, and every frosty morning we let her.
By Gautam Atmakuriabout 3 hours ago in Fiction
Mrs Oliver's Interview
I was surprised to be invited to the interview, not least because I hadn't applied for the job. Normally, it took place in the person's home. The parents could better assess whether I was a good fit for their household, and at some point, they would shepherd in their little darlings to meet me. This one seemed to be taking place in an office. Perhaps it was an agency.
By L.C. Schäferabout 4 hours ago in Fiction
The Widowmaker
An hour had passed since Abigail and a dozen other women and children had been herded onto the Widowmaker, a fitting name for the group now comprised of widows and orphans. The ship carried the marks of repaired cannon damage and a hundred names of former crew members carved into the mast, wrapping around it unevenly as a snake coils around a man’s body. They had been locked in a cold, damp hold somewhere in the belly of the ship before ushering out one at a time.
By Brierabout 7 hours ago in Fiction
Next Vision
Prologue: The Photograph The first photograph reached the internet at 6:42 on a Thursday morning, Singapore time. That meant it landed in California while the night shift was still on its second coffee, and in New York just as the traders were sitting down to their screens.
By Wilfred Gabout 12 hours ago in Fiction
The Man Who Paid for His Coffee with a Secret. AI-Generated.
Our café had one unusual rule: tell us a secret, and your coffee is free. Then a stranger walked in and told me something I wasn't supposed to know.
By Ahmet Kıvanç Demirkıranabout 13 hours ago in Fiction
The Gentleman
There is a place, beside, under, and outside our own world, which is outside Time. It's bleak and lifeless. You can't go there, not by any normal means. No ordinary human can. Unless they are Taken.
By L.C. Schäferabout 15 hours ago in Fiction
To Have and to Hold
Five months passed since Cassie Horn stepped in the ring with the legendary Vonda Richards, the mother of Cassie's fiancée, Kristina Richards. The seeds were planted by Vonda right after Cassie proposed to Kristina, and the challenge was made right after. Despite Vonda's devious mind games and her repeated taunts about her past rivalry with Cassie's mother, Patricia Horn, Cassie emerged victorious against Vonda in a bout that saw the rulebook completely thrown out.
By Clyde E. Dawkinsabout 20 hours ago in Fiction
To Weigh the Black and White
If silence weeps, let it scatter into a million tiny fragments, as mellow as the embers of a fire - Burning rods, scattered thoughts, sharp as metal, scraping the edges of the prism of life undertow.
By Susan L. Marshallabout 20 hours ago in Fiction
The Boy in the Southwest Corner of the Village
Scratchy trees bordered the village with a perimeter tighter than any grandmother’s squeezing hug. Leaving the village looked to be a difficult task, if anyone in the village even wanted to leave. Sure, the skies were often gray unless if it was sunset and then they became every other color known to man besides blue, and the grass was a polka-dotted patchwork of green and brown, and everything was not quite so beautiful but not quite so ugly, but the land was fertile and the river was plentiful.
By Stephen Kramer Avitabileabout 21 hours ago in Fiction
The Little Shop That Sold Yesterday
The Little Shop That Sold Yesterday At the end of a crooked cobblestone street, squeezed between a bakery and an abandoned clock tower, stood a little shop with a peculiar sign.
By Tonya Bennettabout 24 hours ago in Fiction
The Village That Forgot the Sun
There was once a village hidden between two mountains, a place so quiet that even the wind seemed afraid to disturb its silence.
By Silvia Felacoa day ago in Fiction
A Stranger in the Grocery Store Whispered, “Pretend You Know Me”. AI-Generated.
The woman approached me while I was deciding between two frozen pizzas. It was a Thursday evening, a little after nine, and the grocery store was almost empty. I had spent the previous ten hours at work and was standing in front of a freezer, seriously considering whether pepperoni was worth an extra three dollars.
By The_unique_writera day ago in Fiction