Short Story
Sally Was Sally
Sally stole moments searching for meaning in the sickness that invaded her beneath her skin. She couldn't face the outside world; suburbia and its charmless social normalities held nothing but abject disgust for her. As she sat behind the slats of the bamboo blinds her mother had bought her before she died, she was unhappy enough to while away the hours or days watching.
By Paul Stewartabout 4 hours ago in Fiction
This Will Be Fun
"This Will Be Fun" By Corey W Harland He sat in his once-bubble-filled tub, the faint notes of lavender soap now fighting a losing battle against the heavy, copper stench of fresh blood. The bathwater was no longer a lukewarm sanctuary; it was turning a sickening, murky pink.
By Corey W Harlandabout 17 hours ago in Fiction
The perfect sunrise
The summer had finally arrived and everyone was looking forward to the usual warm weather and sunny days that lay ahead. Long days of sitting out on the beach while watching the sunset, late night strolls through the park, cicadas buzzing off somewhere in the darkness...just to name a few expected scenes.
By Jeff Paitchellabout 17 hours ago in Fiction
Still in Bloom
The first daffodil appeared in November. At first, I thought I was seeing things. I was standing at the kitchen window with my coffee growing cold between my hands, staring at the little patch of dirt beside the porch. Most of the yard had already surrendered to autumn. Brown leaves crowded against the fence. The maple tree was nearly bare, and the weather report said the temperature would fall below freezing by the weekend.
By Brenda Fluhartyabout 18 hours ago in Fiction
Striking Snake Maiden
"So that's it, you want me to beat up on a bunch of thugs is that it?" Jingfei asked her martial sister Mei Xiang. "You have been wandering far too long sister" Mei Xiang replied. "The Rock Hound Gang aren't just any bunch of local thugs as you say. They are professional killers, thieves and in a large group are not exactly easy to take on."
By Johann Hollarabout 20 hours ago in Fiction
The Bus for Daniel
It was seven-thirty on a July morning, and Eleanor Voss had already changed out of her nightgown and into the housecoat she wore around the house. The heat had started early that summer, and the screen door had begun sticking in its frame whenever the humidity climbed. On the second week of the month, Eleanor carried a glass of iced tea outside and had barely settled into her seat when she heard a diesel engine coming up the road. School had let out back in June, and the buses had been parked behind the district building ever since, waiting for September. Eleanor watched the long yellow bus slow down in front of her mailbox and stop. She figured somebody had made a mistake, since she had lived in that house for twenty years and knew the school schedule as well as anybody.
By Tim Carmichaelabout 21 hours ago in Fiction
Storage Shed
You go to the shed for a table leaf. That’s it. That’s the entire mission. A simple retrieval operation. A three‑minute task. Something so basic it doesn’t even qualify as a chore. You’ve survived gate guard at 0300, CQ shifts that felt like psychological warfare, and the kind of family chaos that should earn hazard pay. A shed should not be a threat.
By Syl De'Vila day ago in Fiction
