Short Story
Ch.2 The Spell
The Tsar soon found out that life would never be the same again. THE SPELL Opening her eyes to the song of a blue-bird, Rebecca could feel the warm sunshine on her face. It was a glorious day, with a perfect blue sky, the roses in the Palace gardens basking in the summer morning. Hearing her father’s voice underneath the window, Rebecca danced up and opened the French windows just in time to see her father and three brothers riding off towards the village. Strange as it seemed, life had quietened down. Although her new stepmother had completely changed the Palace, with new colour schemes, new furniture and even new historical pictures, this young woman was clever enough to get her own way without causing any upset.
By Ruth Elizabeth Stiff21 days ago in Fiction
The Russian Princess Doll
THE PERFECT LIFE Looking over the rich green gardens, the Tsar of Russia couldn’t help but feel proud of his only daughter. Having three older sons, Rebecca was most welcome being the only daughter and the last child. With long, curly, raven-black hair, a very trim figure and pale complexion, Rebecca was the beauty of the Russian Court. Her mother, the Tsarina, loved her dearly and lavished attention on her only daughter. Being so much younger than her brothers, this beautiful seventeen year old felt completely safe, and her brothers almost fighting each other to protect her.
By Ruth Elizabeth Stiff21 days ago in Fiction
Cosmo
“Cosmo.. Your name is - Cosmo…” Dirty, viscous, sticky air. Sand flying in the wind. Everything seems yellow. Everything IS yellow. Is that the thought that you wanted to die with? Leaving you in the mirage of the melting asphalt, the further I go, the more of a memory you become. Real. Ever real. You’ve never been as real as you are now, being dead. Nebraska. Alaska. Nevada. Thrown everywhere by life. Never a home to come to, only a house. I found you in Reno, your head in the cloud, your mind electric from snow. A box of pills rattling in your purse, waiting to be used for the last time, in the room upstairs. Once and for all, end it. Identical mascara streaks on your cheeks like a personal camo, “pretending to be a regular girl, but not!”
By Salomé Saffiri22 days ago in Fiction
The Last Call of the Cassandra
I have never, in the long and wearisome course of my existence, been able to free my mind of that single cry which rang across the harbor upon the night the great ship Cassandra loosed herself from the dock and bore away, forever, the only creature I had ever loved. It was a steward's cry, nothing more, a common summons meant for common ears, yet to me it fell like the toll of some funereal bell, and even now, in the solitude of my chamber, I hear it still, sounding through the corridors of memory with a persistence that borders upon madness.
By Nolan Reed22 days ago in Fiction
Burden
"You are a coward!" " A what!? " "You, all of you. Eldar or whatever you freaks call yourselves. Ha! I've met a smattering of you, and in human terms let me tell you that's a lot, each and every one is Corruption-bent. 'Do not suffer the orc to live,' is the proverb, isn't it? But you run at the first sign of-"
By Alexander McEvoy23 days ago in Fiction
Waiting For Those Words
Larry sat on a stool in the pub, staring out the window into the black darkness of the night. It had been raining hard. The pavement was dotted with puddles. He watched people try to dodge them as they scurried in case it started to rain again.
By Calvin London23 days ago in Fiction
Last Call on 9/11. Top Story - August 2026.
We all experience time differently. For some, time is linear, and the conveyor belt of new people and experiences pushes aside events and friends of the past. We often say these people “live in the present”. But for some, including me, events that happened decades ago appear in my mind as if they were yesterday.
By Scott Christenson🌴23 days ago in Fiction
A United States Citizen
Cloves and grease traveled to Nikki’s nose. She flared her black nostrils and breathed in slowly, slowly. The sound of the drill with its lights affixed to it cut into her consideration of him. Vlad gave his name with a smile. She looked at him and eased a hand down her ebony inner left thigh, perspiration popping up like buds of lilacs on her skin despite the air conditioning. After he put the screw into the door, she watched with acuity how he performed his tasks. The sound of the drill became a symphony of work and agility. He pulled the door upside down and toiled on the spring mechanism. She wore a University of Delaware t-shirt, reflecting the school she chose to study at a few miles away. She allowed her nineteen-year-old self to use her credit card on a bit of an annoyance. Her closet door had to be fixed. For months it stood off the track. She felt cool, despite the sweat on her leg. The August heat could not contend with the air conditioner. At least that worked.
By Sky Saunders24 days ago in Fiction
