Short Story

She Sat in the Third-to-Last Chair for Three Years—Then Spoke Once and Broke the Company
Isabel Moran left the office at five-thirty every day. The lights in Finance stayed on; junior analysts rubbed their eyes at their screens. She walked through the cubicles, a canvas tote slung over her shoulder. Inside was a Norwegian textbook with a cover wrapped in a supermarket receipt. Jason at the front desk said, “Right on time again.” She smiled. The elevator doors closed.
By Jin3 months ago in Fiction
The Key Nobody Turns: What Happens When Two People Wait for the Other to Speak First
Henry Walter pulled into the Trout Creek gas station with his left front wheel wobbling for the last ten miles. He had no spare. Just a crate of sample cans of maple syrup.
By Jin3 months ago in Fiction
Our Last Ride
She would think it is a gorgeous day. The sun is high and shining hot, with not a cloud to cover. A slight breeze tickles my neck. This is how she would expect the first day of summer to feel. Beautiful and inviting. She never stopped talking about weather like this, how the sun could grow endless flowers and vegetables for us to snack on. But instead of enjoying this beautiful day together, breathing in the fresh air that the wind carries, I am attending her funeral, alone. Tears run as the memories of our past years together play in my head. The pain of her loss makes my heart feel a deep bruise that will never heal. I miss her, I miss her so much.
By Emmie Falbo3 months ago in Fiction
In the Ring. Top Story - July 2026.
That was a damn strange fight. At least they went the ten rounds for it, but I wouldn’t have believed my own eyes if I did not sit at ringside and watch it all go down. Needed to have these notes as evidence for it, too.
By Kendall Defoe 3 months ago in Fiction
The Things I Meant To Come Back To
My inbox was full. Not emotionally. Literally. Years of newsletters I’d never read. Shipping confirmations. Password resets. Coupons from stores I’d forgotten I’d ever shopped at. Google Photos had slowly turned into a massive, digital junk drawer. It was an attic of screenshots, receipts, duplicate pictures of my dogs, and memes I forgot were funny.
By Tifani Power 3 months ago in Fiction
Three Red Scarves
The boys had known each other so long, they couldn’t even remember a time when they weren’t friends – Jerry, Terry, and Michael. Their mothers had all grown up friends, as had their fathers, and their families had lived in the same little Washington town their entire lives, making friendship almost inevitable.
By Shannon Hilson3 months ago in Fiction
Season Of The Witch
11PM: September 22, 2026 It was almost time. Alana had been planning since the summer started, as she had every year, even though it was just her, Bob, her lovable golden retriever, and Fred… her cockatoo.
By Crystal Nicole3 months ago in Fiction
Bite the Hand 🐺
After supper, I scraped the still-warm entrails into a metal bowl, and took it out to feed the werewolf. It'd been over forty degrees again today. The temperature had hardly dropped since the sun went down. As a result the ground was bone-dry and packed hard. He'd have tried to dig his way out anyway, no matter how much his paws bled and his claws broke and tore. That is, if not for the Collar.
By L.C. Schäfer3 months ago in Fiction
Jackjot
Long time ago there lived an old man named Highsti. Highsti was quite an aged guy who always wanted a companion which he never had. He had no companion because in his neighborhood only young folks and kids lived who were least bothered about him. As he was very old, he stayed at home and continued his life as it is and in it. One night he was very upset and saw a shooting star. After seeing the star, he wished if it could give him a companion which may be in any shape, size or form.
By Air Herk3 months ago in Fiction
The Architect of Forgotten Seconds
Arthur Penhaligon did not live in a house he lived in a building with a lot of gears. He was in charge of the Great Pendulum, a clock that went from the bottom to the top of the building. People in the city of Oakhaven thought the clock just told them what time it was. Arthur knew the truth the clock actually made time.
By Zak3 months ago in Fiction
The Cartographer of Silences
Julian was a cartographer. He did not make maps of mountains or rivers. He made maps of the moments in peoples lives. In a world where every conversation was recorded and stored privacy was valuable. And quiet moments were the most valuable of all.
By Zak3 months ago in Fiction
The Glass Weaver
Elias sat at his loom the strands of memory-silk shining under the dim light of his workshop. He was the last of the Glass Weavers in Oakhaven a city made of stone and quiet streets. In Oakhaven people did not keep their memories in their minds. They pulled them out. Wove them into fabric. People wore their memories as scarves, cloaks and veils wrapping themselves in the comfort of what they had lost.
By Zak3 months ago in Fiction