Short Story

CLASS RING
"Wish I knew my exact location. My owner would be euphoric to hear from me. While I haven't lost my sparkle, my age and memory are starting to fade a teeny-weeny bit.
By Babs Iverson3 years ago in Fiction
Sweet and Sour Monotony
I’ve never been one to grow tired of routine nor monotony… I’ve always embraced the comfort of knowing what I was in store for. Others may view those same things as stale and boring. But I’d beg others to look inward when they feel that. I’d beg them to decipher if something was boring or if they were worried they were just missing out on some unknown mystery out there in the world. I’d beg them to not make rash decisions and to truly examine the situation. I’d beg them… if I had a working mouth.
By Stephen Kramer Avitabile3 years ago in Fiction
Yeti. Content Warning.
I’d pushed my luck. I knew I had the moment I climbed the last ledge before the top of the snow-covered mountain. The wind was a full-force gale, blowing the snow like pieces of sand in a sandstorm. It had steadily been getting stronger and louder the closer I got to the tip of Mount Muenster.
By Mother Combs3 years ago in Fiction
Long Lost Bottle
In a bottle distribution facility in the mountainous suburb of Coquitlam, Cuppa woke up for the first time after having been molded into shape and filled with pristine stream water infused with ozone. Looking around him, he noticed there were five other bottles just like him strapped together by a piece of plastic, and even more plastic covered all around them, sealing them from the outside world.
By Jesse Leung3 years ago in Fiction
The Misadventures Of Blankie
I was born in a world of softness, warmth, and security. For as long as I can remember, I've been known as Blankie. My life began in a cozy nursery, where I was lovingly crafted from the finest cotton and stitched with care. From the moment I came into existence, I knew my purpose was to bring comfort to my owner, a sweet little girl named Lily.
By J.B. Rage3 years ago in Fiction
Exhalation. Top Story - January 2024.
Dying, for me, was a beautiful experience. I know that sounds crazy, blasphemous even, to describe such a tragic thing, a viscerally sad thing, in such a dissonant way. You might wonder if I was depressed. And truly, I wasn’t. In the end, despite everything, I was stupidly happy. Still, if I was being completely and truly honest, dying, the actual act of it, the process of letting go… that part. That part was bliss.
By L Mincola3 years ago in Fiction
A Tarnished Heart
There was a brief moment that we shared eye contact. I know she felt the same jolt I did when her dark eyes held mine for a second. There was a glimmer of a smile, on both our faces. Then the train stopped, and she jolted as though just realizing it was her stop. She jumped up, her dark hair flying, and threw on her backpack, pressing forward quickly through the closing doors, with just a second to glance at me, still smiling.
By James Jude Jorgensen3 years ago in Fiction
When I Died
First of all, I died. When I was alive, I thought of death, as you do, as the end of things. That when mine came, it would be the end of me.
By L.C. Schäfer3 years ago in Fiction
Arguments
"Anyone can start an argument in the house, but only Mother has the power to stop it and resolve it." My name is Ishaan. After college, I immediately joined a company. My parents, especially Nanna (my father), were very happy, but I always wanted a normal life. So, I quit my job after two years and decided to start a business in my hometown so that I could stay with my parents and take care of them.
By Arjun Sahasya3 years ago in Fiction
This is not how it was supposed to go
This is not how it was supposed to go, with the whole group gathered around a bonfire reenacting horror stories, plastic plates and glasses strewn everywhere. This was supposed to be their third anniversary, the two of them alone.
By Letizia Loi3 years ago in Fiction
SNOWBOUND
A thick, swirling crystal cloud billows up behind the semi rapidly approaching on the desolate narrow, snowy Arctic road. I grip the wheel harder, prepping for the icy blast.
By Jon H. Davis3 years ago in Fiction
The Lost Marbles
Tootles always seems to lose me when he needs me most. The poor soul put me in a sack to keep better track and still can’t manage to hang on to me. He needs me. All of his happiness lives in me. I hope he’s doing all right. I can’t imagine what things he’s thinking or feeling right now. Thud, Nibs, and Peter have tried to help Toots, but nothing seems to work. All the boys have found me one too many times. He sets me down but never remembers where. He wants to carry me around constantly in case of emergencies, but it’s just not realistic, and now here I am. Lost. Again. This time, I have no earthly idea where. It’s quiet wherever this is. Mostly. There’s a persistent dripping that could put a canon blast to shame. The echo of each drop lingers long enough for another to fall. It’s cavernous, vast, and empty if I had to guess.
By kp3 years ago in Fiction