Short Story

Possibly Maybe
I sit in our room waiting for the nurse to come grab me. There is a sense of déjà vu looming over me as the scrubs they gave me hang loosely over my jeans and my t-shirt. The slip covers on my shoes make it difficult to keep my feet planted underneath me with the slick tile floors. It is a miracle I haven’t slipped and hurt myself. Not like it will make much of a difference. I am in a hospital surrounded by dozens upon dozens of trained medical professionals.
By Gunnar Andersonabout a year ago in Fiction
Justice Reimagined
In the year 2040, the world of law and governance was undergoing a transformation unlike any before. Courts that once dealt with towering piles of paper, endless manual research, and delayed verdicts were now hubs of high technology. Artificial Intelligence had stepped in to streamline justice, making it faster, fairer, and more transparent.
By The voice of the heartabout a year ago in Fiction
The Personalized Classroom
📖 Story: In the year 2035, education had taken a giant leap forward. Classrooms were no longer limited to four walls, dusty chalkboards, or rigid schedules. Instead, AI-powered systems personalized learning for every student—making knowledge accessible, interactive, and fun.
By The voice of the heartabout a year ago in Fiction
The Strangeness. Honorable Mention in The Second First Time Challenge.
The day began at just before 11 am, with the same old route I had taken hundreds of times in the past… one that was suddenly jam-packed with lines of honkin’ cars…
By Taylor Rigsbyabout a year ago in Fiction
Parapraxis. Honorable Mention in The Second First Time Challenge.
She appeared across July like an occasional hobby, and brought that Bronco with her-- scratched scarlet paint, exhaust pipe coughing black tar. Where she drove it, its wheels left dents in the ground. And every time she walked out his door she left dents in his heart too.
By Ameliaabout a year ago in Fiction
Bride and Groom. Runner-Up in The Second First Time Challenge.
Bride and groom. She did this first, of course, and she walks with me now. I’m wearing the most comfortable suit I’ve ever owned. I was prepared for it to be less than perfect - a pinch too tight around the chest, perhaps; maybe trousers too long because of the waistband sitting a little lower on my hips. But it’s like I’m wearing pyjamas, soft and warm against the autumn air. A contrast waistcoat for a little flair, and a coordinating burgundy tie that my oldest friend bought me for the occasion.
By Kay Knightingabout a year ago in Fiction
Whispers Between Raindrops
The city wore its rain like a whispered secret — soft, unassuming, yet impossible to ignore once you tuned in. The steady rhythm of droplets fell over sidewalks and rooftops, painting everything with a subtle sheen, a reflective glow that softened the sharp edges of the world.
By Ghaniabout a year ago in Fiction
My Pills, Her Pills
There was footage. Wasn't there? She turned at the gate, right hand over her chest, held it there, six or seven seconds. Is that right?
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
Breath Between Notes
The first note rises through the floorboards, and Janet pauses with her hand on the kettle, listening as the second follows, then the third, forming a phrase she knows by heart. It’s the piece she played every Sunday afternoon, the one she carried to Madeline’s bedside while the child drifted into sleep with one foot always dangling over the edge of the quilt.
By Fatal Serendipityabout a year ago in Fiction
Oh Death. Winner in The Second First Time Challenge.
It was a hot, hot summer when I turned sixteen. Not hot like it is these days of course, but still one of those summers where the humidity and the heat marry and conceive a life all its own.
By E. L. Stacyabout a year ago in Fiction
Gerald’s Stars. Honorable Mention in The Second First Time Challenge.
Gerald kept his head down, the sky a detestable sight. Sun or rain, it didn’t matter. Hanging his shopping bag on his wrist, he pulled out a cigarette and sought a lighter from his pocket as he waited by the side of the road.
By Euan Brennanabout a year ago in Fiction
Seven Years. Runner-Up in The Second First Time Challenge. Content Warning.
You press the door closed behind you, soft and final. Even after all this time, you still don't want it to be heard. The air smells like birch and chicken cooking. Instead of the chill of danger, the warmth of safety has wrapped around you.
By Autumn Stewabout a year ago in Fiction