Short Story
Wolf's Bane
The moon howler is not hungry; she seeks her pack. Snow tracks lead in circles under Luna's full embrace. Round and round, she circles, waiting for a familiar presence, but loneliness prevails. To no avail, she switches her matted tail, swatting the poisoning of Winter's bluster that insists on entangling her spirit.
By Marilyn Glover3 years ago in Fiction
Silens Praesidium. Content Warning.
Drip drop drip The cold of the drips to his face roused him. Brian woke with screaming from what felt like the worst nighmare he had ever experienced. Hyperventilating, he struggled to focus on the dark and cold surroundings. In fact he could barely move his head. It felt like his neck was firmly strapped down.
By Paul Stewart3 years ago in Fiction
Terrible, Ô Terrible Mistake
There’s eyes glowing in the night, appearing and disappearing with the snowfall. She blinks a few times, trying to escape the sharpness of the snowflakes. Her feet keep getting in hidden abysses and her clothes, so terribly wet, are clinging to her body like a horrible double skin, keeping her from moving properly. She shouldn’t have come this late and by that weather.
By Michaela Plourde3 years ago in Fiction
The Endlessness of Everything. Runner-Up in Snow Micro Challenge. Content Warning.
The police lights strobe across the white moorland in manga licks of blue softened and soaked by rolling drifts of dawn's breaking mists. The distant wintered trees hang as ghouls in the flanks, silhouettes seamed with indigo against a fading brittle grey sky.
By Caroline Jane3 years ago in Fiction
Unraveling
Part 1 The bar was crowded with drunken revelers, hooting and hollering, ready to bring in the new year. The champagne had flowed for the last few hours as the partiers downed the bubbly liquid. The host signaled to the staff to serve the final round of drinks before the countdown began.
By KA Stefana 3 years ago in Fiction
A Quiet Cafe
A Quiet Café D. A. Ratliff I approached the café where we were meeting and rehearsed what I wanted to say. At least, what he expected me to say. Would it be the truth? No. That wasn’t part of the game we were playing—only he didn’t know it was a game.
By D. A. Ratliff3 years ago in Fiction









