Short Story

City In Flames
I dreamed last night of fire. In the dream, I woke in darkness. A long, flat window high on the wall let me see the sky. It was red.
By I. D. Reevesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Day the Sky Forgot the Sun
The morning began with silence. Not the usual kind—the calm before the city wakes up, the hush of dawn—but a silence that felt… wrong.
By Dalia Mohamedabout a year ago in Fiction
Waitland
A mother cradles her newborn, "If and when I'm ever gone, and you wish long and hard." She soothingly hums, "You will find a place of mine, filled with love and memories..."
By A. W. Knowlandabout a year ago in Fiction
Under Caution
Transcript - Body-Worn Camera - Officer PC Keegan Date: Monday, 08 September Time: 09:47 BST Location: Residential address Attending Officers: PC Sarah Keegan (K), PC Mark Ledger (L) + [Audio begins, officers approaching property] K: You logged a cat as a possible exit. L: It moved fast. K: It had a collar. L: It was in the shadows. Could’ve been a person. K: It was licking its paw. L: You didn’t see that. K: I did. You were still writing “suspect may have fled via garden.” L: I wrote “unconfirmed movement.” K: You wrote “possible exit.” L: You’re still quoting it. K: Well, it's funny. [Pause. Footsteps. Doorbell rings. Door opens.] K: Good morning. Ms. [REDACTED]? Nona: ...Yes? K: I’m PC Keegan, this is PC Ledger. L: We’re following up on an incident reported early Sunday morning. Nona: Well, I can't say this is a surprise. K: Your husband attended the station with a head injury. He stated you assaulted him. Nona: What?! He attacked me! Look at me! L: Did you cause the injury to Mr REDACTED? [Pause] Nona: If I did, it was accidental. I was defending myself. [Pause] Nona: It's all a bit of a blur. K: And your eye? Can you tell us about that? Nona: I told you, he attacked me. Flew at me in a rage and tried to gouge my bloody eye out or something. K: Did the children witness anything? Nona: No. They were asleep in bed. He took them when he left. L: Did you seek medical attention? Nona: Of course I did. Do you think I can do stitches on my own... sorry. It's been a stressful couple of days. Yes, I went to A&E. They kept me for observation, and discharged me this morning. K: Are you able to attend the station today? Nona: Why? What for? Is it to press charges because- L: It would be an interview, at this stage, Ms REDACTED. An opportunity for you to give your account of events. Nona: What do you mean, "my account"? Are you suggesting I'm lying? Do you think I did this to myself? I could have lost my eye! I could have lost the sight in it... [sobbing] K: We understand this is very trying, Ms REDACTED. L: Do you have someone who can take you to the station? [Pause] Nona: No. K: You could get a taxi. Nona: He’s emptied our joint account. [Brief pause.] Nona: You’ll need to take me. [Pause] K: We’ll log it. L: We’ll clear it with the desk and confirm a slot. K: This afternoon’s open. 14:30. Nona: Fine. K: We’ll come back at 14:00. L: You’ll be interviewed under caution. You’re not under arrest. It's very important you understand that. Nona: I understand. Thank you, officers. [Door closes. Footsteps.] K: That injury looked pretty nasty. L: Looked pretty swollen under that dressing. Do you think she'll lose sight in that eye? L: I don't know. K: It wasn't in the log. L: No. K: CID’ll want it flagged. L: Already done. [Audio ends.]
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
The Shape of You
God had painted the world with a thin layer of sheer silver that gave everything an illuminating effect; Jonah breathed in slowly, quietly, as he leaned back against the old wooden bench. His eyes were on the still water of the pond but not actually looking at it. Instead, the pictures in his mind flashed before him brilliantly, almost as if they were where he was instead.
By S.J.about a year ago in Fiction
Convertibles
A simple walk provided maximum clarity to Hurley Knotting. Standing at six foot six with a brown complexion, he rounded his Wilmington, Delaware neighborhood. Asked if he ever played ball, he left that up to his daughter who would be graduating next year from college. She played ball. Well. It’s what landed her a scholarship. But she wanted nothing from the league. Beatrice Paige Knotting wished to help out her dad’s business. He became overwhelmed with joy when he discovered this.
By Skyler Saundersabout a year ago in Fiction
The Letter That Never Arrived 🙋‍♂️
A mistake that delayed love but could not destroy it It began with an envelope. In the spring of 2003, Anna, a university student in Boston, sat at her desk under the dim glow of a desk lamp. She was 21, restless, and uncertain about her future. On impulse, she wrote a long letter to Michael, her closest friend from childhood who had moved to London years ago.
By Zidaneabout a year ago in Fiction
Shadows of Potential
Shadows of Potential Elias Voss adjusted his tie in the reflection of the polished glass doors of Vortex Dynamics, the nonprofit's sleek facade gleaming under the Toronto midday sun. It was 2019, and the building— a modern edifice of chrome and tinted windows— masqueraded as a mental health outreach center, promising "healing through innovation." Elias knew better. This was the Clinic's front door, a veneer of legitimacy over the shadows where real work happened. At 32, he was still hungry, still convinced that places like Black Site 53 could rewrite the broken scripts of human minds. Delilah Kyros had recruited him personally, her words electric: "We don't patch souls, Dr. Voss. We forge new ones." He'd signed on without hesitation, blind to the costs that would come later.
By Theodore Homuthabout a year ago in Fiction
Perspective
Brink had tried listening to the words she didn’t say. From experience, he knew that’s where the real meat of the matter could be found, but those invisible sounds, which normally would hastily flutter around the back of his ears and into his body, were unexpectedly quiet.
By Matthew Agnewabout a year ago in Fiction
The Stranger Who Knew My Name. AI-Generated.
It started as an ordinary evening. I was walking home from work, my bag slung over one shoulder, earbuds in, listening to a podcast about true crime—a guilty pleasure that kept me company on long walks. The streets were quieter than usual, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
By Asima Bibiabout a year ago in Fiction
Behind the velvet curtains
“No, please come in, I insist,” said Ziv, a man in his late forties, who ran his family’s enormous castle with many rooms. He lived with his maid, who felt like his mother. Rea, a Mexican actress, visited the movie set to get to know the place she was working in. She was fascinated by the long golden walls, the spacious halls, the red velvet curtains, and the pictures hung that had people who looked ethereal. Still, one shot stopped her; it was the picture of a child who had short red wavy hair, sharp but shiny eyes, and defined lips that looked as if they were drawn. His hundredth plea broke her reverie. Rea accepted Ziv’s invitation and decided to have coffee with him. They had a friendly chat, introducing themselves to each other until…
By Sham Al ahmarabout a year ago in Fiction
The Blood Moon Messenger
The blood moon evening drew the masses to the roofs and open fields. Families laid down blankets on grasslands, children pointed with wonder, and phones everywhere tried to trap the red light of the moon into wobbly snaps. Most came in the spirit of laughter, snacks, and amazement. But for Selena Marlowe, the withdrawn archivist of the city library, the evening held a completely different meaning.
By Leyvel Writesabout a year ago in Fiction