Short Story
Blaze. Top Story - September 2025.
“Mom, wake up. Mom! Quick, look! That’s Brandon, right?” “Where?!” Mrs. Lockwood sat upright and groggily looked around at all the passersby. Then she looked in the direction Scarlett was pointing. It indeed was him! It was her Brandon! She quickly got off the pavement and ran towards him, “Brandon! Brandonnn! Brannnndonnnn!” He heard a voice calling his name. It was his former name and it was a voice he hadn’t heard in years. He closed his eyes as he cringed internally. He didn’t want to turn around. He had forgotten she existed. He increased his pace but she caught up to him. “Oh Brandon, it really is you!” Tears were streaming down her face as she pulled him into a tight hug. He just stood there, stunned. Mrs. Lockwood seized that opportunity to drag him to where Scarlett was. She wasn’t as happy as her mom to see her brother. “Scarlett, I can’t believe it’s really Brandon!” “Um, I go by Blaze now”, he said, without meeting their eyes. “Wow. You really don’t want anything to do with us, huh? To the extent that you even changed your name!” Scarlett spat. Blaze let out a hollow laugh, “All of you were the reason I moved out and cut ties completely. I wanted a fresh start, away from all the toxicity, narcissism, and gaslighting. I don’t want to be part of this family anymore and I don’t need any reminders of you either.” Scarlett hadn’t heard a word of what he said as she was looking for more things to blame on him, “You changed your number too! And we don’t even know your new address! Dad died, you know that?!” This news shocked Blaze but he recovered from it fast. Dad was already dead to me when I moved out. “How did he die?” “WHAT DO YOU CARE HOW HE DIED?!” “Scarlett please, we’re not in a position to have a fight now”, Mrs. Lockwood pleaded with Scarlett before turning to Blaze, “Heart attack. It was a few days after we lost our house and started living on the streets.” Blaze looked past his mom and sister. Behind them was a small camping tent with their belongings scattered around. “Brandon, I know—” He glared at her. “—sorry, Blaze it is. Blaze, I know this is too much to ask, especially after everything that we did to you, but could you find a place for your sister and me to stay?” Blaze was dumbfounded by her audacity. After all the psychological, emotional, and mental abuse, his mom still thought he would do this for them? “How would you pay the rent?” He sure as hell wasn’t going to pay for them. “Well, both of us lost our jobs, but…but we do have some savings that we could get by on.” He pretended to look around to buy some time and then shifted his gaze back to his mom. She was looking at him earnestly, hoping he would say yes. He sighed, “I’ll make sure you have a place to stay.” “Oh dear Lord! Thank you, thank you so much!” He didn’t say anything. He turned around and walked away, eager to get away from them. ~~~~~ “But Detective, it wasn’t us! I don’t know what else to say. Is this what you do, try to frame the homeless for crimes that you couldn’t solve?” Mrs. Lockwood looked both indignantly and helplessly at Detective Torres and her lawyer, Ms. Robbins. Ms. Robbins rubbed her temples as everything was against Mrs. Lockwood and Scarlett. Chances of her proving their innocence were very slim. “Mrs. Lockwood, I’ve already showed you, your daughter, and your lawyer all the evidence that places you at the scene of the crime, where the murder took place.” Detective Torres pointed at the case file on the table in between them. “It’s wise you and your daughter come clean.”
By Dharrsheena Raja Segarranabout a year ago in Fiction
The Candidate
Wilma sat waiting to meet the would-be President. Would-be and could-be. Surely all presidential candidates are “would-be” presidents, Wilma mused, nervously flicking her mind from subject to subject in order to occupy her time. In Wilma’s defence, the fate of the world depended on this meeting. And she should know; she’s from the future.
By Conor Matthewsabout a year ago in Fiction
The Hollow Door
Prologue: The Knock The first knock was so soft Mara thought she had imagined it, a trick of the storm or the restless old bones of the house. She set her book aside, fingers pressed flat on the cover a moment longer than necessary, as though the weight of her hand could anchor her.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzalesabout a year ago in Fiction
Don't Do It. Top Story - September 2025. Content Warning.
Emery stood at the bottom of the escalator, fingers clutching the strap of her purse. The lobby was mostly dead, with the exception of the maintenance man. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to turn back—to return to the safety behind the desk.
By Baby Josieabout a year ago in Fiction
The Knock at Hollow Lane. Top Story - September 2025.
The first knock was so soft Mara thought she had dreamed it. The cottage was always quiet in the evenings, but that night the silence was heavier, as if the walls themselves were listening. The fire guttered down to a bed of embers, pulsing faint orange. The mantle clock ticked with a thin, nervous rhythm. Wind shouldered the house, carrying rain across the moor, brushing the windowpanes with long, wet fingers.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzalesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Silence and the Song
Prelude “Before crowns were forged, there was silence and song – and the choice between them.” In the age when crowns were heavier than mountains, and thrones cast shadows longer than rivers, a hunger stirred that no kingdom could name. It was older than stone, older than fire, older even than the first song of the stars. Yet the stars endured, distant but steadfast, keeping their silent watch. Their light bore witness, silent but unwavering, as the Shadow spread its hunger across the earth.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzalesabout a year ago in Fiction
Where the Paint Peels
The town clung to the rocky shore like barnacles on a ship's hull, its buildings weathered into something between architecture and driftwood. What had once been pristine white clapboard siding now bore the scars of countless storms—paint peeling in long, papery strips that curled and fluttered in the salt-heavy breeze like dying moths.
By Parsley Rose about a year ago in Fiction
Lost And Found
Anne Bernays and Pamela Painter — What if? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers prompts — The Exercise: Work with one of your completed stories that has a character who needs fleshing out. Take out a sheet of paper and number from one to thirty-four. At the top of the page, write in the title of your story and the main character's name — and start filling in the blanks. No doubt you will be able to add to this list printed below. Note: This exercise should be done after you have written your story. It is not a way to conceive a character, but rather a way to reconceive a character. It is designed to discover what you know about your characters after you have written your story — and what you don’t know. For example, one writer, Samuel R. Delany, tells his students to know exactly how much money their characters make and how they make it. And why not apply this list to some of your favorite stories? Note how much is know about the unforgettable grandmother in Flannery O’Connor’s story “A Good Man Is Hard to Find” or about the compelling narrator in Peter Taylor’s story, “The Old Forest.” The Objective: To understand how much there is to know about a character that you have created. Of course, it is possible to write a successful story about a character without knowing everything on this list — or perhaps only knowing two or three things. On the other hand, beginning writers often don’t know more than a character’s age or gender — and frequently neglect an essential piece of information that would have greatly informed or shaped their story. You needn’t include these details in the story, but their presence in your mind will be “felt” by the reader.
By Denise E Lindquistabout a year ago in Fiction
Wouldn't It Be Nice. Top Story - September 2025.
He was smiling into the cameras, waiting patiently. This was not his forte, public speaking had always been a weakness as far back as school. Oh, school, how simple the world had been when he hadn't known what was going on.
By Alexander McEvoyabout a year ago in Fiction
Ditched
An elderly couple was driving their Buick on a country road in Georgia to Florida after a great Labor Day weekend at their kids'. It was early in the morning and they enjoyed their ride with no cars on the road, just the calm and beautiful late summer scenery with occasional farms.
By Lana V Lynxabout a year ago in Fiction
