Short Story
The Lookout
The wind blew from the east that evening. Or maybe it was the west. I can't remember. Danny would know. He always knew that sort of thing. I never understood how or why he remembered such things but I didn't need to understand. I trusted him. That night was much like this one, where the breeze mingles with the pinks and yellows of the sky at dusk as if the spirits use their breath like paintbrushes, whistling and blowing their creation into the atmosphere. I remember that evening. It hangs clearly on the white wall of my room, like a living mural only I can see.
By Bugsy Wattsabout a year ago in Fiction
Jane
It was raining that day. The day I met her. I woke up to birds singing in my window. The soft glow of sunlight beginning to creep through the soft white curtains. I ran down the hallway excitedly. She had promised me that if it was sunny we would go to the neighborhood pond.
By Jennidoll of (jennidoll.inc)about a year ago in Fiction
A Friend
Have you ever met a true friend and then realized that the day you first met would be the last. That’s the way it was with me and Nightingale. I never found out his first name, but it didn’t matter. All of his friends only called him Nightingale. Let me tell you how we met.
By David E. Perryabout a year ago in Fiction
The Absence of Me. . Winner in You Were Never Really Here Challenge.
The door is locked. It hasn’t been opened in six days. Beyond it, the world hums like a distant machine. Muffled footsteps of a mother too afraid to knock can be heard outside the door. The whirring pulse of the ceiling fan overhead adds an off rythm ticking and underneath it all, the quiet click-click of something inside my skull trying to reboot itself.
By Stacey Mataxis Whitlow (SMW)about a year ago in Fiction
Searching
Summer was Lily’s second favorite time of year. Summer meant adventures and endless play - things she'd been missing out on. She hadn't meant to give up those things. They slipped away with time. Just like that little girl did. But Lily was on quest to revive her.
By Taylor Westwoodabout a year ago in Fiction
letters, elephants, and heartbeats . Top Story - July 2025. Content Warning.
"What is grief, if not love persevering?" - Vision, from WandaVision Today is a hard day. I stand in front of the door, brushing my hand on the small elephant patch glued to the center.
By Alexandria Stanwyckabout a year ago in Fiction
She Feared This All Along. Runner-Up in You Were Never Really Here Challenge.
It’s a bad day. It’s sunny outside and the faint scent of salt blows inside on the fall breeze, but it’s always fine weather for her parents to fight. She follows her mom into their bedroom, hoping her presence communicates the fact that she cares and doesn’t want to leave her alone. She’s twelve, but nearly as tall as her mom.
By Leigh Victoria Phan, MS, MFAabout a year ago in Fiction
Colder Weather
How long has it been? A week? A month? Maybe a year? I can’t remember the last time you talked to me. Yet here you are, an echo in my head refusing to let go of the pleasant memories we shared together. I can still see you sitting on the couch, curled up with the books you used to try and get me to read. I always told you I was too busy to sit and join you while I started up the car and started driving. Driving away from you.
By Gunnar Andersonabout a year ago in Fiction
A Rooftop Tradition. AI-Generated.
In a small village surrounded by gentle hills, summers were always hot. The sun burned bright all day, and the walls of the houses held the heat like stones from a fire. People tried to stay cool by sitting under trees, drinking cold water from clay pots, and fanning themselves with palm leaves.
By Bilal Mohammadiabout a year ago in Fiction
