Short Story

Stitch. The lore of Sara Foxgrave
The night thinned out fast after the rush. A few regulars left early, muttering about the storm rolling in. Bane was one of them. He slipped out without fanfare, without lingering, just a nod toward Josh and a last glance at Sara that she pretended not to notice.
By Syl De'Vil25 days ago in Fiction
The Pink Gallery. Honorable Mention in You Are Here Challenge. Top Story - October 2026.
You knew the Livingston Hotel was a place of old, upfront luxury. Black marble floors and pillars decorated its lobby, wrapped around a double-sided hearth, and sneaked their way right up to the front door where everyone could window shop a life they could never have. Its hearth was never without a strong fire in its belly or men circled around its glow.
By Silver Daux25 days ago in Fiction
Revival. Top Story - October 2026.
The first thing you notice is the beeping. Beeping just like before, but slower, you remember through a haze. That haze has clouded your vision, forcing you to rely on the sensations your skin is reporting back.
By Stephen A. Roddewig25 days ago in Fiction
Broken: An Abuse Survivor's Tale💜Part 3. Content Warning.
Ch 3: I Was Hopeless, Then I Was Helped I liked to think of my marriage to Michael in segments of ‘Years’. Mostly because each year was so different from the previous.
By Rain Dayze25 days ago in Fiction
Stay Connected
You were never good at being in the same place where your limbs stood. Always with your mind wandering and your soul too adventurous to stay strapped to your body. Wishing on every shooting star and realizing the stars never listened. They came and gone, just as almost every person who crossed your path did. A vicious cycle. A world too cruel to understand how truly special you are. A world that would rather replace the stars with pixels and replace you with polluted air. The people walk around this city in a rush to go nowhere. Bumping into you as if they could not recognize your existence. You acknowledge them, you must, but they do not offer you and your tall presence the same courtesy. They find when the breeze picks up you whistle as if your worries were in second place. No constant vehicle issues, no time-consuming repetitive job, no doctor’s appointments that you cannot afford, no obligations to anyone but yourself. A dream most have, but one that cannot be obtained as the struggle is the only way for them to live here in this city of broken dreams. Maybe it would suit you well to think of their disrespect as more jealousy than complete disregard. It could help ease your mind when the nights seem long.
By Ashley Wrigley25 days ago in Fiction
Your Weight
You are busy walking around your room in circles. You have been curious for many nights and curiosity is a thought with a door that cannot be shut once it’s been open.
By Marianne Lee25 days ago in Fiction
Wrong Door
You don’t belong here. If you could turn away, take back any foolish acts that dragged you here, you would. But you’ve already prayed and begged in vain, then shouted curses into the air, unheard; even if you could do the impossible, you’d probably still end up trapped here.
By Luna25 days ago in Fiction
Yearning for the maiden
“Staring across the waters again ?" Marcus asked. It was as if his friend were in a trance. "Look... look... you can just see them."
By Raymond G Taylor26 days ago in Fiction
Sin Salida
After the showers, the players returned to class, expecting nothing more dangerous than another tedious lesson in biology. They were wrong.
By Stephen Betancourt26 days ago in Fiction
Sinister Normal Things. Top Story - October 2026.
"There is a reason this place is called murder mansion," Tommy whispered to Hannah, his eyes on the ashen pink bricks that dotted between twisted iron bars. Only the front of the house was ever visible from the street, and no one lingered very long to get more than a passing glance. But there they stood, in strict defiance, two faces peeking in and out of the overgrown shrubs like windowed curtains, hoping to catch a glimpse of something worthwhile. Each house on this street was aging and solitary like a tomb. A graveyard, a mausoleum of lives passed, hoping the next would be better than the last—and so on, and so forth, until you arrived here, standing in front of 1521 Sycamore Street , where lives were cut shorter and shorter with each passing decade.
By K.H. Obergfoll26 days ago in Fiction
The Stuffed Cat
One fine spring morning, a stuffed cat standing upright on an old vinyl record player suddenly blinked, shook her head, stretched lazily, and then, after a languid yawn, climbed down from her perch, sniffing around and snooping through the hall of the Arci social club “La Bandiga”, behind Scandellara Park in Bologna. The event, took place in front of two witnesses who at first, not seeing the remains in their place, thought of a theft, or some act of spite.
By Federico Berti26 days ago in Fiction
You Are The Worst!
You have no business being here. I want to make that clear before we begin. You have never played Dungeons & Dragons before. You don’t know what an armor class is. You think initiative is something employers look for during job interviews. Twenty minutes ago, you asked if your character could carry a gun.
By Jesse Lee26 days ago in Fiction