Short Story

Testament to the Last Show
Music has always been my drug of choice. The addiction started while listening to old tunes in my dads truck as we drove to town, air drumming the dashboard and belting out lyrics together as if we were on stage in front of a crowd of fans.
By J.C. Rebelabout a year ago in Fiction
Memories Aren’t Always Real
As the dust settles around me, I'm drawn back into the memories of what had been. The memories fly past in a whirl of emotions. I can't seem to stop them as they quickly blur through my mind. All those times when I needed your love and you gladly gave it.
By Kristen Barenthalerabout a year ago in Fiction
Stabbed
Here I am bleeding out on to the pretty redbricks of the High Street, when a familiar face looms into view above me. It's pale, almost luminous, and framed by very sleek black hair. Her lips are dark, and her eyes glitter. Questions spool through my mind in quick succession, but none of them get snagged on my tongue. Is it bad? Am I going to die? How long have you had a face? I don't have to ask who she is, of course. I'd recognise her anywhere. It's so rare that characters arrive in my head so fully formed, with such clear features. She really does have clear features, too. Like porcelain. She's not in her scrubs right now. I wonder if I'm going to make her late for work. She's wadding up some kind of material and holding it against the wound. It hurts, quite a lot actually, but it's a relief to have someone helping me, even if it's a... Well. "You might be lucky," she is saying, "It looks like your jacket was thick enough to take the worst of it... I can't guarantee that the knife didn't hit any organs though..." Her eyes are glittering more than ever and her teeth are lengthening. "Why don't you just leave me here. Ring an ambulance and go?" I press hard against the pad of fabric. "See, I'm keeping the pressure on it. I've seen enough movies. Go on. You need to go. Before..." She's going to lose it any moment. Maybe it's already too late. The way that smile is blooming over her face like that, those white, white teeth... "You wouldn't," I tell her, but lacking any conviction. "You can't. I didn't write you that way." "Shhhhhh," she hisses, and there's nothing soothing about it. Since when have any of my characters done what I wanted them to do? I'm a goner. The wail of the siren and the wash of blue light bring a wave of relief. My toothy rescuer has already melted away. I'm loaded into the vehicle by more people without faces. I'm almost used to it now. It maybe it's the hole in my side taking up all my concern. Faceless they may be, but they are efficient to a fault. Where are they taking me? Any chance they will take me home? My real home, I mean. There's a hospital not far from there. My heart sinks. I realise where they must be taking me. I think I'd rather have taken my chances with the vampire.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
Stay Awake
"Did you pack enough socks, Ted?" "Yes, Mom. I'm 17, not seven. We've been to the cabin loads of times." "I know, but the mountain will be cold, and we have to keep our feet warm."
By Julie Lacksonenabout a year ago in Fiction
Missing You
So maybe signing on for a work trip in New York wasn’t my best idea. I really didn’t do it because of Seren. I just thought that maybe if I ran into her while I was here, it would be fate. Or maybe just seeing a glimpse of her would settle the weight that had been in my stomach since we broke up. The first few days I focused on work. I didn’t think of her. I stayed mostly in my hotel room and only ventured out for food. But today is a free day, and I find myself at places I think she’d like. Like my soul is trying to pull me toward her without my knowing. I get lunch at an Italian restaurant that specializes in vegetarian cuisine. She doesn’t eat meat. I sit on a bench in the park with absolutely no shade in sight. She loves the sun. I walk past and through bookstores, wandering aimlessly. She says books find a direct line to her soul.
By Raine Nealabout a year ago in Fiction
The Day I Accidentally Became Someone Else Online. AI-Generated.
It was 2:17 a.m. when I created the account. I had no intention of becoming anyone other than myself. I was simply trying to register for a forum dedicated to obscure science fiction novels — the kind with interdimensional librarians and planets powered by poetry.
By Ahmet Kıvanç Demirkıranabout a year ago in Fiction
Vette Regret
Phil and I had been texting for two days — just two — when he invited himself on a four-hour drive from Vancouver to Kamloops to meet me. Time was of the essence. He’d previously wasted a whole week messaging another woman, only to complain that her body wasn’t “appropriately proportioned” enough for him when they met.
By S.E.Linnabout a year ago in Fiction
The City That Dreamed Itself . AI-Generated.
In the heart of a desert where no map dared to extend its lines, there once appeared a city — not built, not planned, but dreamed. Travelers swore it had not existed the day before. Sand dunes that once rolled endlessly now bristled with towers made of mirrored stone, reflecting not just the sky above, but the desires buried deep within whoever gazed at them.
By Atifa Iqbalzadaabout a year ago in Fiction
Comfort Character. Runner-Up in You Were Never Really Here Challenge.
The ceiling fan whirs, dust-laden blades circulating stale air. A soft clicking accompanies every rotation, sounding in time with the thump of Jane’s heart. As an amalgamation of cat hair and neglect drifts like dandelion fuzz across Trinity Bellwoods park, Jane blinks and the warmth of the sun, the screech of the streetcar disappear.
By Cacia Gillianabout a year ago in Fiction
Road to Rebellion The
The late 19th century was a time of lawlessness in the New Mexico Territory, where the lines between justice and vengeance blurred like dust storms across the dry plains. In this harsh and unforgiving land, power was law, and those without it were trampled underfoot.
By khanabout a year ago in Fiction
Find me in the gold.. Runner-Up in You Were Never Really Here Challenge.
She can still see me. It’s rare, but on occasion, she can still see me. When she does, it comes in glimmers of light and shadows, the way water reflects off the bottom of a pool, but every so often, she can still see me. My friend. My real, living, breathing, atoms and molecules shaped into the body of a real girl, friend. When she does, when she sees me, the electricity courses through my entire being. The joy of being seen literally electrifies me, and sometimes it makes the lights flicker, and I know she shrugs it off as a power surge or something else as equally rational of an explanation. This is what always happens, as they grow up, but I was hoping this time it wouldn’t. She was the girl I loved the most.
By Morgan Longfordabout a year ago in Fiction
How Jane Turned a Layoff into a Launchpad
Introduction: A Career at a Crossroads Jane Alvarez had spent a decade building a career with a Fortune 500 firm in marketing. Her strategic mind, her detail-oriented nature, and her ability to transform data into compelling campaigns made her an indispensable member of the team. But then she received an email in the spring of 2023 that would change the direction of her professional—and personal—life: her position was being cut as part of a restructuring initiative. Thirty days’ notice was given, and Jane was thrust from safe familiarity into the uncertain world of unemployment.
By Martin Williamsabout a year ago in Fiction