Short Story

The Undulating Field. Top Story - September 2023. Content Warning.
This is for Mother Combs "Twisted Endings" Challenge that you can read about here The Undulating Field I had a restless night and kept getting up for some reason, but I don't know why. Eventually, I decided I might as well just get up, so went to the bathroom shaved, cleaned my teeth, took a shower, took drugs and got dressed. It was six in the morning, and I was on holiday, so there was no need for me to be up at this unearthly hour, but I was and went to the kitchen and made coffee, instant, with oat milk in the microwave.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 months ago in Fiction
Crowned By Kindness. Runner-Up in You Had to Be There. Top Story - July 2026.
It's the last day of the Medieval Faire, the sky is darkening, and the announcer has been dropping increasingly un-subtle hints about what time the grounds will close to the public.
By Natasja Rose2 months ago in Fiction
Swirling
Zito Park: Autumn 1969 "Who left that toy in the tree?" Abigail Anosetti asked as she played with her friends. "I don't know, but it's tangled there and it doesn't look like it can be loosened without cutting its strings." Louie Binetti said, staring at it.
By John Scipio2 months ago in Fiction
Before Hell Had a Name: The Morning Star’s Bride
Before Hell had a name, Heaven had no shadow. There were depths beneath it, of course. There were outer darks where unfinished things moved without song. There were ancient hungers beyond the ordered light, things that hated form because form meant they were no longer free to be everything.
By Alejandro Arango2 months ago in Fiction
When Monsters Pass . Top Story - July 2026.
The phone buzzes, jarring, but quiet enough to have two missed calls when she answers it. "Hello?" Sleep clings to her voice like steam to glass.
By Laura Lann2 months ago in Fiction
A Night Between Three Skies. Top Story - July 2026.
I thought the end of the Camino would be tranquil. After over a thousand kilometres of walking, I imagined reaching Finisterre would feel almost sacred.
By Imola Tóth2 months ago in Fiction
Dream Anthology Pt. 1
In an apartment mother feeds me mushroom sprouts with black pepper. She says it'll keep me healthy, however I don't understand how. She lays in her bed, unmoving, yet I still feel her caring for me. At some point she stops talking. I feel uneasy. I go find help.
By Ducky Joe 2 months ago in Fiction
Twenty-Seven Minutes. Honorable Mention in You Had to Be There.
“You’re going down.” Jeff nodded, then turned towards the makeshift bench. His eyes narrowed, as he grabbed his right ear, wiggled his nose and stuck his tongue out. Sitting on the makeshift bench made of two overturned buckets and a big rock, his two friends nodded in understanding. They paused as they contemplated the unspoken message, then responded. Each message was unique. Ears were tugged, feet were kicked and eyes were blinked. One hat even turned sideways.
By Adam Kolozetti2 months ago in Fiction
The Last Empty Chair
The village café had only six tables. By any reasonable standard, nothing remarkable had ever happened there. No famous visitor had stopped for coffee. No dramatic declaration of love had echoed beneath its yellowed ceiling. No history book would ever mention the place.
By Alain SUPPINI2 months ago in Fiction
A Thousand Nights from Myself
The first time I died, I had paid for company. That was the part I hated most later. Not the blood. Not the teeth. The money.
By Alejandro Arango2 months ago in Fiction
Wallace’s Radio
I worked the loading dock the summer after I dropped out of a college program I never much liked, mostly because the pay covered rent and the schedule left my mornings free. The job amounted to little more than moving freight from trucks to shelves and back again, hour after hour, the sort of work that dulls a mind if you let it, though most of the crew found small ways to keep from going numb. Some brought paperbacks to read on breaks. Others ran betting pools on which supervisor would lose his temper first on a given shift. Wallace brought a transistor radio that seemed older than either of us, its antenna bent at an angle that only worked if you propped it against something metal.
By Nolan Reed2 months ago in Fiction
Lavender Girl
They sat on the dirt patches between the rows of blue and purple lavender. The English, Spanish, French, and Lavandin plants were grouped by type and planted in rows. I prefer the English type, but the girl seemed to gravitate toward the blooms of the rabbit-head Spanish lavender. Her hands gently swiped upward on the spikes as she giggled. Her mother tickled the girl’s nose with a piece; the girl exclaimed, “It smells so good, Mommy!” Pulling scissors from her pocket, she began cutting the stems, creating a small bouquet. When the girl spotted the pink lavender, she ran to the rows and sat behind the tallest plants, trying to hide.
By Andrea Corwin 2 months ago in Fiction