Short Story
The Servant at the Table
You discover that you are a servant when the lieutenant looks at the tray in your gloves and sees only the tray. Nine bowls sit upon it, each filled to the same line, each placed at the correct distance from its neighbor, and you count them twice before realizing that the counting belongs to the person whose memory you have entered. You have been given a body for this evening, a coat with a narrow collar, gloves, polished shoes, and a small smear where a name should be, yet the young lieutenant's attention passes over you as readily as it passes over the ceiling, the brass work, the other servants moving along the far side of the dining hall. You are part of the room because the room requires you, and that is the first rule you understand.
By Nolan Reed27 days ago in Fiction
The End of the World or A New Beginning Part Two
Author’s Note: These prompts are my attempt at working on writing fiction. I may not always follow the cards exactly, but it is me writing fiction. My first few attempts at fiction happened five years ago on Vocal Media, and on medium.com .
By Denise E Lindquist27 days ago in Fiction
Broken Mirror. Top Story - October 2026.
The lights are on, and you stare at yourself in the mirror, still and soft is the curve of your cheeks. Chubby, but they manage to stay clear, now and through the growing years of your teens. You never pick at your skin, though there are some blemishes that naturally come as years trek on.
By Rachael Anra27 days ago in Fiction
Feed my Petals of Allure
Unwind the depths of my liquid heat of burn. A soul abandoned recently, I am at merge with the flow of a lane way that ever folds and turns. Memories a replay: a montage of love’s residual bleak. Jyr’s absent steps trample tirelessly across our lost love’s memory.
By Susan L. Marshall27 days ago in Fiction
AURA-BORN: The Academy of Darkly Contrived Magic
Whoever you really were wasn't just going to sneak into this world out of happenstance. You couldn't exist here out of sheer bravery or spite. You start to wonder exactly who this Miriam Broadweather is, and how precisely you managed to become her.
By K.H. Obergfoll28 days ago in Fiction
The Quiet Below
Niko dreamed of the cliff first, like always. — the same sheer drop of stone beneath his boots, the same clean horizon, the same measured wind brushing past him in steady intervals. He stood at the edge, hands in his pockets, looking down at the ocean far below.
By Syl De'Vil28 days ago in Fiction
Beneath the Wake
Bane dreamed of the ocean often, though his version was never gentle. It came to him in jagged pieces — cliffs carved by storms, waves that struck like fists, a horizon that never stayed still. The water was darker in his dreams, almost metallic, reflecting nothing but the faint shimmer of his own eyes.
By Syl De'Vil28 days ago in Fiction
Into the Void
Sara dreamed of the ocean the way she remembered it as a kid — cold, gray, endless, the kind of water that didn’t sparkle so much as brood. In the dream, she stood at the shoreline with her boots sinking slowly into wet sand, the tide tugging at her laces like it wanted her to step closer.
By Syl De'Vil28 days ago in Fiction
The Star's Fallen Child
The worst thing you can be in Craemia is special. Okay, that's harsh, I’m aware, but it's true one: the more special someone becomes in this country the worse off they’ll be. I was protected, but now that protection is gone. One night of darkness cursing me to an eternity of such.
By caitodoesstuff28 days ago in Fiction
Three Hours Behind You
You aren't supposed to be here. That thought follows you through the glass doors before they close behind you. The lock clicks. There should probably be something dramatic about the sound, something final and cinematic, but there isn't. Just a tiny mechanical click separating the sidewalk from the apartment lobby and turning a questionable decision into trespassing. Technically, you didn't break in. The woman carrying groceries held the door open. You thanked her. She smiled. Apparently, crimes of the heart begin with good manners.
By The Kind Quill28 days ago in Fiction
