Short Story

The Call of the Minaret
The early sun had just started to rise from behind the house tops of Medina when Bilal woke up. The air was still cool and heavy with the smell of sand and date palms. For a moment, he listened to the faint sounds of the city waking -- the distant bleating of goats, the clatter of water pots and the quiet hum of life returning after the silence of the night.
By Nusuki11 months ago in Fiction
The Light of the Desert
And the wind sang along the dunes, and Malik took a brush against his shabby cloak, and the desert sand was like tiny sparks on his face. This was hours of walking on part of him, in pursuit of the horizon that kept on pushing away. The sun was now setting, and coloured the sky with fire and gold.
By Nusuki11 months ago in Fiction
THE PLASTER VEINS
The files from Harrowgate Orphanage were filled with mundane horrors—neglect, spoiled food, cold winters. But the clinical reports were contaminated by the children’s shared delusion. They didn't whisper about a monster under the bed; they were terrified of the "Wall-Press." It wasn't a creature, they insisted, but the absence of space. It was the narrow, suffocating darkness that waited patiently between the wall and your back. The orphans learned to sleep facing the peeling plaster. They said if you faced the open room, you’d feel it: a cold, damp puff of air on your neck, a presence that smelled of wet cement and something like spoiled, metallic milk. That was your only warning.
By Wellova 11 months ago in Fiction
The Siren of Vanavara
The shack stood out among the snowy forest. Its rotting wooden panels and chipped roof tiles gave way to its dilapidated state. My boots crunched in the thick white powder around me as I drew closer to the door. The windows have been long since boarded up and are caked with dirt. There is no seeing through them to what lies inside. Many people have speculated to the horrors that were locked within those four leaning walls. My mind kept to the idea that it was simply an old shack meant to serve as some sort of a halfway house during travel, or even a temporary lodge for a hunter.
By Gunnar Anderson11 months ago in Fiction
An Office Affair
I walked by the cracked doorway just in time to see her remove his shirt, his thrust against her against the wall was even more telling. I should have already known by the way she floated in the door, she was not an ordinary client. She wasn’t dressed to drop off tax documents, but I would have at least presumed he would make sure his office door was closed considering his office romance. I don’t really like to gossip but my dislike for Monica’s character and her snide comments slow my stride on the way to the break room. Some may say it was the steam rolling off of his back, the grunting melody, and my own predilection that caused me to peer for a second or two, but that would be hearsay. What I did want was for Michael’s afternoon tea to last longer than the water cooler conversation, so I leaned in and closed the view.
By Aissa Martell11 months ago in Fiction
The Keyhole Prism Speaks
The keyhole ingrained sights through the prism that spoke volumes, to all who could see. This keyhole prism is a gateway containing missions undone from long ago. Catapulting anyone who looks into the gateway chamber. What chimes in the ears of those who look; there is nothing new under the sun. Something to ponder, the latter-house has been stretched and set in motion for movement at a higher altitude. As the sightings take place through the ascending keyhole, charting a course of correction. The lineage that had been blocked for centuries is now freed. Where did it all begin? It started with let there be light. Lo and behold, there was light. For the prism of the latter-house is in full swing and established. Now, there isn’t a formidable question of today. There is an answer stemming from yesteryear. As freedom has been designated and the correction has been heralded aloud. The Lord corrects those He loves.
By Jacqueline Elaine Hudson11 months ago in Fiction
The Missing Brick
I saw through your eyes, in a dream. I saw something throw a new moon at the sun, and push it away from your world. Your planet was saved from consumption by a burgeoning sun, but thrown into a cold darkness.
By A. S. Lawrence11 months ago in Fiction
Through 6B. Honorable Mention in Through the Keyhole Challenge.
“I think that’s everything you need to know,” the superintendent said, setting down the bags he’d carried to her new apartment. “6D. Here’s your key. Lose it and it’s a hundred bucks to replace.”
By Steph Marie11 months ago in Fiction
The True Story of Byron Baker Wolf
Let me start by saying that my name is Byron Baker Wolf. It’s not Big Bad. I hate that nickname. Look at me—do I look that big or bad to you? Think about it. I’m the smallest in my whole pack and the kindest wolf in the entire forest. Big. Bad. It doesn’t even fit me.
By David E. Perry11 months ago in Fiction
Through The Keyhole Blooms A Flower. Runner-Up in Through the Keyhole Challenge. Top Story - November 2025.
We didn't always look through a keyhole to case a house we wanted to rob. Sometimes we could look through windows, other times we were invited in after we cut a lawn for the owner.
By John R. Godwin11 months ago in Fiction
The Man With the Keys
Emani peered through the keyhole of the apartment. The tall, hard-faced man who had knocked on the door a few seconds before now stood further down the hall, tapping his foot frenetically. His dark suit was clean and tight. It looked new and expensive, to Emani - but she wasn't really sure. At any rate, she thought that the man didn't much fit in these surroundings.
By Gabriel Huizenga11 months ago in Fiction
The Museum of Ordinary Time
I was at the church rummage sale to photograph the bake-off my editor sent me to cover, because the city will always prefer a picture of a toddler with frosting on her nose when a council meeting looms. Heat clung to the parking lot, bees buzzed around big jars of peach preserves, and the hem of my jeans soaked up rainwater from last night's storm.
By Nicole Olea11 months ago in Fiction