Short Story
Last Call At Murphy's
By six o'clock each evening, Thomas Murphy could have unlocked the front door with his eyes closed. After sixty-two years behind the same bar, there wasn't much he had to think about anymore. His body remembered the routine better than his mind ever could. The old brass key disappeared into the lock with a familiar click, the front door groaned against the warped hardwood floor, and the faint scent of stale beer, pine cleaner, and old cedar drifted out to greet him like an old friend who had been waiting all day.
By Megan Janousek2 months ago in Fiction
Three Sandwiches
“At a wake, mourners may eat no more than three sandwiches” * Senator T.C. R. Noble: So, it was really hot and Old Man Keller’s funeral was the biggest event in town and Madame Curry’s bakery provided all the fixings for a feast for the parishioners. What we didn’t know was that the Gordon Sisters (you know who) would be there to inhale so much before anyone could even see the tables that you would hear stomachs grumbling from here to Nashville. That made a lot of people really red in the face and hot in the head so there were fists flying, legs kicking and even dogs got into it. Poor things kept getting chased away from the tables like it was their fault and my own Rufus…he got hurt. Now, I don’t care what they do when they have a funeral in my church and they are all respectful, but when they go after the dogs, I have to put my foot down! I know that you are going to handle this in court, but don’t forget the rest of us who are just trying to do God’s will and remember the miracles and the loaves and fishes. Maybe if people remembered that they had to share things out, these things wouldn’t happen. And maybe if the judges in this state actually gave us a number – something like the Trinity – there would be real peace when a life passes on.
By Kendall Defoe 2 months ago in Fiction
The Forest of Eden
“And from his rib a woman was born. In that moment Adam – the father of all – had found his true companion, and it is this moment that declares something grand for the rest of humanity.” Father stood tall amidst the kneeling crowd - a few dozen figures with bowed heads all listening intently to the honey filled words of Father. “Marriage, a most wonderful covenant!” His voice became low once more so that the multitude of ears needed to lean in further, to soak in the joyous proclamation.
By caitodoesstuff2 months ago in Fiction
Chapter 3: Angehlah and the First People
Not caught up yet? Check out Chapter 2: The Creation Gods , here on Vocal! Listen along here! A phrase and story as old as the Sentience of The First People- life is yours for the taking - still echoes in the minds of the people of Rhyonis. Were it not for those few simple words, there would be no written history, no memory, nor would there be anything of The First People at all. Every humanoid lineage knows the story; the tale being an innate part of their consciousness from the moment of their first thought. This being, of course, Angehlah's sacrifice and Gift of Sentience.
By Austin Rose2 months ago in Fiction
The Letter Behind the Clock. AI-Generated.
AI-Generated Content Disclosure: This story was written with the help of Claude (Anthropic) The letter was tucked so far behind the old mantel clock that Nora almost missed it — and she would have, if her hand hadn’t slipped while dusting. It was not addressed to her. But the name on the front stopped her cold: it was her own handwriting.
By 10min Stories2 months ago in Fiction
Shadows of Lure
I was found here, swimming giddily amongst the blue-grey panels that surrounded me, my feet sinking into the grey as though succumbed by rough sea waters. I was drowning, amongst the loud silence, reaching for the Shiraz wine bottle to scull and numb my hectic mind. In peaks of time, against the saturation of outside nightclub chaos, I blocked my mind from the noise, sitting cross legged with my hollow guitar and tapping deeply into its soul. Its reverberations assured me that I wasn't the only one seeking a rhythm beyond the predictable paved streets and noise of the city. I craved a warmth that pricked me at times in my aching heart, sparking its urgency deeply within my soul.
By Susan L. Marshall2 months ago in Fiction
My Grandmother's Garden
It was the beginning of summer. The garden smelled of fresh, sweet honey and fruits from the warm sun beating down on them. The carrots crunch at the sound of your first bite. Honestly, Lilyanna loved the garden. It was so warm and peaceful. Sometimes she would look up at the sky and see the trees shimmer with life from the sun. That’s when she noticed her first creature and called for her grandmother, Kathy.
By kayla painter2 months ago in Fiction
The Author
The desk was cluttered with scattered notes and a laptop displaying a blinking cursor. Violet had her chin in her hands as she stared at the white screen, her mind was racing with a sudden spark of inspiration. She'd spent months trying to write her first romance novel, but today, the image of her ideal hero had finally solidified inside of her mind.
By Sara Wilson2 months ago in Fiction
