Short Story

"I Want to Go Home!"
When SpaceX Dragon Capsule exploded on April 20, 2019, Tom Mueller, the lead propulsion engineer, followed Elon Musk into his office minutes after Musk burst out of the mission control room.
By Lana V Lynx12 months ago in Fiction
A Man Who Has Nothing
He woke up with nothing. No home. No money. Not even a name that people remembered. The city didn’t care. It never does.
By Waqas Ahmad12 months ago in Fiction
Bunny and His Helpful Friends
Bunny and His Helpful Friends BY: Khan Deep inside a green, peaceful forest, there stood a huge old tree with wide, shady branches. Beneath that tree lived a cheerful rabbit named Bunny. It was his cozy little home, dug safely under the roots. One bright summer morning, Bunny opened his eyes and realized that the sun was already high up in the sky. It was going to be a very hot day. Stretching and yawning, he said to himself, “Oh dear! I slept so long. I must hurry up and go to the market before it gets too hot. Once the sun rises higher, even stepping outside will be difficult!” Bunny quickly washed his face and paws, finished the leftover food from last night, changed his clothes, and picked up his little basket. Hopping out of his burrow, he began his cheerful journey toward the market. He had barely hopped a few steps when he heard a tiny voice call out, “Brother Bunny! Brother Bunny!” Bunny stopped and looked around, puzzled. The voice was so faint, he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. He looked up, down, to the left and right — but saw no one. Then the voice called again, “I’m here! Down here!” Bunny looked carefully toward the tall grass beside the path — and there he spotted Mr. Mouse, wearing round glasses and carrying a little bag on his shoulder. “Oh! Mr. Mouse! What a surprise!” Bunny said happily. “I thought I’d come visit you,” said Mr. Mouse, smiling. “It’s been days since we met. But it seems you’re going somewhere?” “Yes,” replied Bunny. “I’m going to the market before the heat becomes unbearable. Once it gets hotter, I won’t be able to step outside.” “That’s true,” said Mr. Mouse, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “It’s scorching today! Say, shall I come along?” “Of course!” Bunny replied joyfully. “The more, the merrier!” And so, the two friends set off together — Bunny hopping merrily and Mr. Mouse scurrying quickly beside him, sometimes running, sometimes jumping to keep up. They hadn’t gone far when they heard another soft voice call out, “Brother Bunny! Greetings! Mr. Mouse, greetings too!” The two friends stopped and looked around. The voice seemed to come from right beneath their feet! “Where are you?” Bunny asked. “Here!” said the voice again. They looked carefully in the tall grass and spotted a tiny, bright red bird. His feathers glowed like a ruby. Everyone in the forest called him Red, simply because of his color. “Well, well, Brother Red!” Bunny said. “You’ve found yourself a nice shady spot.” “Yes,” chirped Red. “I was resting here for a while. The heat was too much to bear.” “You’re right,” Bunny agreed. “It’s really a burning day!” “Where are you both going?” Red asked, fluttering his wings. “To the market,” said Bunny. “We need to buy some groceries before the heat grows worse.” “Oh, how nice!” said Red. “I’m going that way too. May I join you?” “Of course!” Bunny replied with a big smile. “Two is good, but three is even better!” And so the three friends — Bunny hopping, Mr. Mouse trotting, and Red fluttering — moved happily toward the market. As they neared the edge of the forest, they saw Brother Deer standing by the path. “Hello there, friends!” Deer called out. “Where are you all off to in this blazing sun?” “To the market,” Bunny said. “We want to finish shopping before the heat gets worse.” “What a clever idea!” said Deer. “Mind if I join you?” “Not at all,” said Bunny. “Come along!” Now there were four of them — hopping, running, flying, and walking together. Soon, they reached the market. Bunny bought some fresh green vegetables, lemons, and sugar. Mr. Mouse bought fruits and grains. Brother Deer bought dry fruits and a little hay for himself. Red picked up a few berries and some seeds. Just as they stepped out of the shop, a loud crack echoed in the sky. “That was thunder!” said Bunny, looking up. The bright sky had turned dark with heavy black clouds. Lightning flashed, and the sound of thunder rolled through the forest. “It’s going to rain soon,” said Mr. Mouse nervously. “Quick, climb up!” said Brother Deer, kneeling down. “Get on my back, all of you. I’ll take you home before the storm begins.” At that moment, large raindrops began to fall — first slowly, then faster. Bunny, Mr. Mouse, and Red quickly climbed onto Deer’s back. Deer galloped through the forest, splashing through puddles, while Red flapped his wings to steady himself in the wind. By the time they reached Bunny’s burrow, the rain was pouring down heavily. But everyone was safe and dry. They laughed together and thanked Brother Deer for his kindness. Bunny shared some of his vegetables, Mr. Mouse offered a few fruits, and Red chirped a cheerful song as they enjoyed the cozy shelter under Bunny’s tree. From that day on, the four friends promised that no matter what happened — rain or shine — they would always help one another. Because in the end, helping others always brings happiness to everyone. --- Moral of the Story: True friends stand by each other — in sunshine or in storm.
By Khan 12 months ago in Fiction
The Prince, the Woodcutter, and the Lesson of Mercy
The Prince, the Woodcutter, and the Lesson of Mercy BY: Khan Once upon a time, in the golden sands of Egypt, there lived a noble prince. Though he belonged to royalty, he possessed neither the pride of kings nor the arrogance of power. He ate the simplest of meals, lived among his people, and spent most of his days serving them and remembering God. His kindness and humility were well known across the kingdom — virtues inherited from his compassionate father, the late king. One quiet afternoon, after hearing the grievances of his subjects, the prince wandered into the forest to meditate in solitude. The gentle whisper of the trees and the soft songs of birds surrounded him. As he sat under a tall cedar, lost in prayer, his attention was caught by a strange sight — a poor woodcutter chopping logs, speaking tenderly to his donkey as if it were a close friend. But soon, the man’s tone changed. He dropped his axe, buried his face in his hands, and began to weep bitterly. Day after day, the prince watched the same scene unfold. The woodcutter would chop wood, talk to his donkey, then cry uncontrollably. The sight troubled the kind-hearted prince. Finally, unable to contain his curiosity or his compassion, he stepped out from behind the trees and approached the man. “Old man,” the prince said gently, “I have seen you here every day, speaking to your donkey and then crying in sorrow. Tell me, what pain burdens your heart?” Hearing these kind words, the old woodcutter’s eyes filled with tears. He fell to his knees before the prince and began his tale. “I was once a man blessed with a son,” he said in a trembling voice. “God had granted him wealth beyond imagination. But alas, that very wealth destroyed him. Pride poisoned his heart. He saw no one’s worth except his own. He mocked his poor relatives, turned away the needy, and humiliated those who came for help. “One day, a distant relative of ours — a pious old woman from another kingdom — came to our door. Her daughter’s wedding was near, but she had no money for the ceremony. She begged for a little help, believing that in hardship, family stands together. But my arrogant son, blinded by his riches, shouted at her, pushed her out, and slammed the door in her face.” The old man paused, his voice cracking with grief. “That night, a red storm swept across the land. Thunder roared, lightning struck, and rain poured down like never before. While my son and I slept comfortably in our warm beds, that poor woman remained outside our door — shivering, weeping, and praying for mercy that never came. By morning, she was gone — her soul taken by the cold and the storm. “When I awoke, I found my house in ruins. Lightning had struck it; our wealth was turned to ashes. But the greatest punishment awaited me — my son had been transformed into this very donkey you see beside me. That day, I realized my own sin — I had stayed silent while my son grew arrogant. I never stopped him, never guided him back to kindness. His curse is my burden.” The prince’s eyes filled with tears. “Indeed,” he said softly, “to remain silent before wrongdoing is to be its accomplice. But God is merciful. Ask His forgiveness with a sincere heart, and perhaps He will show you the way to peace.” The old man nodded and fell to the ground, weeping and praying for forgiveness. At that very moment, the sound of galloping hooves echoed through the forest. A young princess, radiant and noble, appeared on a white horse. She dismounted and looked at the prince and the woodcutter with curiosity. “What has happened here?” she asked. The prince told her everything — the tale of the proud son, the curse, and the old man’s regret. As the story unfolded, tears welled up in the princess’s eyes. When the prince finished, she stepped forward, trembling. “That poor woman,” she whispered, “was my mother.” The prince and the woodcutter froze. “Yes,” she continued, her voice heavy with sorrow. “My mother came to your house that night — tired, poor, and desperate. Your son’s cruelty drove her out into the storm, where she prayed for mercy until her last breath. By dawn, she was gone. When the king — my father — found her lifeless body, he took me in as his own daughter. I was raised in his palace and later married his son — this very prince standing before you. God raised me from dust to the throne, while your son’s pride cast him down from man to beast.” The woodcutter dropped to his knees, trembling. “Forgive me, my princess,” he cried. “Forgive my son, forgive me!” The princess, moved by his tears and repentance, looked toward the sky. “God is just,” she said gently. “He punishes, but He also forgives those who truly repent.” Then, as if by divine grace, a bright light surrounded the donkey. The creature brayed loudly, stumbled, and fell to the ground. When the light faded, a young man — the woodcutter’s son — stood there, human once again, weeping uncontrollably. He turned to the princess, tears streaming down his face. “I was blind with pride,” he said. “Forgive me for the pain I caused.” The princess placed her hand on his head and said, “May your repentance be your redemption.” The old man and his son returned to their humble hut, forever changed. They lived the rest of their days in prayer and service, never again forgetting the mercy of God — who humbles the proud and lifts the humble. --- Moral: Pride leads to downfall, but true repentance brings divine forgiveness.
By Khan 12 months ago in Fiction
The Night the Sky Caught Fire
The Night the Sky Caught Fire It began with whispers carried through small towns and quiet cities. People spoke of a light that would tear across the heavens, brighter than any star we had ever known. The scientists called it Comet C 2025 41, but to most it became the Fire Tail, a name that felt older, something our ancestors might have whispered when the world was still young. On October twenty first, they said, it would come close enough to see the ice melt from its skin, close enough to make the night burn.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 12 months ago in Fiction
The Bear in the Big Blue Box
I could see it. There it was in the middle of the room. “What is it?” Bobby asked. “It’s a box. A blue box.” “What’s in it?”
By David E. Perry12 months ago in Fiction
Just a Peek. Top Story - October 2025. Content Warning.
Madame Sylvie Revealer of your Past Teller of your Future Madeline, or Mad as she preferred to be called, studied the sign before her, wondering if it was really worth it to follow her unexpected urge. She had never once wanted to know her future, and even now, Mad still didn’t want to know. Mad had read enough Greek myths to know that it never ended well. Granted, she believed in herself enough to think that she wouldn’t go try to kill a baby or something like that, but still. Mad was content enough to live in the present and not stress about a future she may not be able to change, thank you very much.
By Rebecca Patton12 months ago in Fiction
The Two Twin Williams
The Two Twin Williams The night their mother died, the wind carried no song. The house stood still beneath the weight of sorrow. A candle flickered beside her bed as the midwife whispered prayers. One child cried in his Mothers arms, strong and fierce, the other weaker, silent as the grave she would soon fill. The nurse lifted the quiet one, wrapped him in cloth, and looked to the woman who was slipping away. She will not live till dawn, the midwife said. The nurse nodded once, then vanished into the cold with the child. No one saw her leave, no one asked why. By morning, only one boy lay beside the mother’s still hands. They named him William and buried her beneath the cypress tree. The other child was carried far into the dust to grow among strangers and silence, his name whispered only in dreams.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 12 months ago in Fiction
The Door Knocks Before Dawn
The knock at the door that changed my life came at exactly 3:07 a.m. I was awake, though I pretended not to be. Since the fighting started, no one has slept deeply anymore. The factions had no pattern, no rules. One night they fought each other in the market square; the next, they raided homes and dragged people away for questioning that no one returned from.
By Grace Kusta Nasralla12 months ago in Fiction
Memory Stain
The girls at work laugh at me. They all have fancy cars with all the bells and whistles, and here's me with my old banger. It's not, of course. It doesn't bang, and it doesn't rattle. Drives smooth enough for me. It doesn't have the bells and whistles, but that's the way I like it.
By L.C. Schäfer12 months ago in Fiction
Ship Of Dreams
It's April 14 1912, I never could have imagined that my life would change on this faithful day. It was supposed to be a day of joy and excitement but instead it ended in tragedy and sadness. A day no one would ever forget.
By KENDY SEREDA12 months ago in Fiction
Fostering Doubts
Author's Preamble: As noted above, this is my 22nd rejection, in my ongoing attempt to win something or have something published outside of Vocal. The following story was written for the 2025 Ligonier Valley Writers' Flash Fiction Contest. The prompt was simply, AI/robots, the light or dark side. 1000 words or less.
By Paul Stewart12 months ago in Fiction