Short Story

Tea For Two
I paced. Bladder pressing, head pounding. My bedroom door tightly closed and just as locked as it had been last time I rattled it. It glared right back at me.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
Once Upon A Second Chance. Content Warning.
I remember dying vividly. It was 1977 and I was a nineteen year old who thought I had figured it out and had nothing new to learn. There was nothing to look forward to and nothing to look back on.
By S.about a year ago in Fiction
"A Kite Taught Me the Meaning of Freedom"
A child's view of liberty, shaped by the sky I still remember the day I flew my first kite. It was an ordinary day for the world — but for me, it became unforgettable. The sky was painted a gentle blue, the wind was soft and playful, and the rooftops were alive with children, all clutching kite strings with bright eyes and big dreams. In my small hands, I held a vibrant orange-and-blue kite, adorned with a crescent and star. I named it Freedom.
By M.Bilalabout a year ago in Fiction
The Bench of Second Chances
On the edge of a quiet city park stood an old wooden bench. Faded, cracked, and partially hidden under a tall sycamore tree, it had silently witnessed countless stories—some joyful, some heartbreaking, and some unfinished. But the story that truly gave it meaning began one chilly autumn afternoon.
By NIAZ Muhammadabout a year ago in Fiction
Ever Bound
It was my first day at a new school. I had been unhappy and bullied at the public school. My cousin went to a private school, and he talked me into joining him there. As I walked inside I saw my cousin with a group of boys a lot older than me. My cousin was a senior, so I assumed his friends were too. I pulled my bag up higher on my shoulder and headed that way, because I didn’t know anyone else. The room was small, there were only about fifty students in the entire school. My cousin saw me and waved, then waved me toward them. I waved back. The guy right beside of him stared at me, he had long black hair and wore jeans and a black band shirt. I smiled at him, and he smiled back. My breathing halted for a second, but I shook it off and kept moving.
By Raine Fielderabout a year ago in Fiction
A Stranger Who Changed Everything
A Stranger Who Changed Everything I don’t remember her name. I don’t even know if she gave it. But I remember her face — the kind that could’ve belonged to anyone’s grandmother. Soft eyes. Wrinkled skin like creased paper. And a voice that sounded like it had spent a lifetime soothing frightened children.
By Kine Willimesabout a year ago in Fiction
In Defense of the Quiet Ones
In Defense of the Quiet Ones Not all heroes arrive with grand entrances. Some slip into a room like a change in the weather — unnoticed at first, but impossible to ignore once you realize how they’ve shifted everything. This is a story for them, the quiet ones.
By Kine Willimesabout a year ago in Fiction
The heat of the day
The Heat of the Day Evan Caldwell woke to silence, the kind that screamed trouble. No blaring alarm, no buzzing phone. He bolted upright, heart racing, and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. Dead. He’d forgotten to plug it in. The clock on the wall read 7:42 a.m.—he was already an hour behind.
By Armando gomesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Revolution Will Not Be Circumcised
The revolution... ...will not take something away from you before you have had time to enjoy it. * The revolution... ...will always leave a tip, something off the top, a little bit extra, whether it is asked for or not.
By Kendall Defoe about a year ago in Fiction
Lights Over London . Runner-Up in The Summer That Wasn’t Challenge. Top Story - July 2025.
“Madam, you should come below.” Elizabeth took a long drag on the cigarette tucked neatly in the ornate silver holder. She ashed it in the ivory tray sitting beside an untouched glass of brandy. “You know Dickie, I still remember the fireworks at old Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee. Sat right in this spot. I was sixteen, fresh from New York. Archie and his father lined the streets that day, and god knows what they did once the fireworks started,” She watched the horizon alight with activity while the tendrils of discarded cigarette ash swirled into the night through the open sitting room window. It was odd to see her London street all alive yet silently empty at the same time.
By Matthew J. Frommabout a year ago in Fiction
Where the Waves Remember Us. AI-Generated.
Some loves are not lost—just carried away. The sea did not keep time as humans did. But he did. Every year on the same day—August 17th—he returned to the shoreline where the cliffs curled like question marks and the wind never remembered to rest.
By Ahmet Kıvanç Demirkıranabout a year ago in Fiction
He Left Me a Letter Instead of a Goodbye — and I'm Still Crying
It was a typical Tuesday. The kind where the coffee tasted a little distant, the sky hovered between blue and gray, and I didn't see anything unusual in his eyes. We shared breakfast, talked halfheartedly about bills and weekend plans, and exchanged "see you later" before heading out the door. Only... he didn't mean later. He meant forever.
By Echoes of Lifeabout a year ago in Fiction