Short Story

A Wall, A Stick, & A Handful of Bugs
I sat on the wall, embraced by the freedom of the wide blue sky. My legs dangled, covered in scrapes and bruises, and my lungs were full of springtime. Bored heels kicked a rhythm on the crumbling brick.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
The Bunsen Burner Mysteries
Welcome to Bunsen Nebraska. According to the 2020 census, the population is 12,721. Yet I do believe that it is closer to 9,000 now. The pandemic did a number on the elderly community. My name is Sam Bunsen the 4th and I’m the mayor of this wonderful town. My great-grandfather was the first mayor and the founder of Bunsen. That’s why the town was named after him.
By David E. Perryabout a year ago in Fiction
"I Woke Up in a Life That Wasn’t Mine"
Waking Up in a Stranger’s Life I opened my eyes to sunlight streaming through a window I didn’t recognize. The bed was too soft. The air smelled like lavender. And someone had called me Emily. I shot up in bed, panic clawing at my chest. My heart raced. I wasn’t Emily. My name was Sarah. I remembered the job I hated, the apartment I could barely afford, the friends who’d drifted away. I didn’t have a perfect life. But this… This life wasn’t mine. Confusion and Fear I stood, my legs unsteady as I stumbled to the window. Outside, a sprawling garden stretched into the horizon. The house was massive, more like a mansion, with tall columns and ivy creeping up the stone walls. I squinted, looking down at my hands. They were smooth, delicate. These aren’t my hands. I barely had time to process the thought when the door opened behind me. The Stranger Who Called Me “Emily” “Good morning, Emily,” a man’s voice said softly. I turned, my breath caught in my throat. He looked familiar, like someone I should know, but I couldn’t place him. His features were sharp, his eyes a piercing blue. His smile was warm, almost too warm. “You slept well,” he added, walking toward me. “I’ll have breakfast ready in a few minutes.” I blinked, trying to focus on his face. “Who are you?” He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of concern crossing his expression. “Come on, Emily. You’ve been through a lot the last few days. But you’re home now. Everything’s going to be okay.” My mind raced, and I stepped back instinctively. This wasn’t my home. I wasn’t Emily. I needed to get out of here, figure out what was happening. The Frustrating Truth “Wait!” I managed, voice trembling. “I’m not Emily. I don’t know who you are.” The man’s smile faltered, but only for a second. He looked at me as though I were a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. “Emily, you’re just—” He stopped mid-sentence. The worry in his eyes deepened. “You don’t remember, do you?” I shook my head, backing away from him. “I’m not Emily,” I repeated, louder this time, my voice shaking with fear and confusion. The man’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, reaching out as though to comfort me. “I’m sorry. I thought… You must be so confused. It’s all right. You’ve been through a lot. But I’m here. We’re together now.” His words were gentle, but they felt wrong. My heart pounded, a knot tightening in my stomach. This isn’t my life. I need to get out of here. The Unsettling Phone Call I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, desperate to call someone, but when I unlocked it, the screen displayed a picture of the two of us—Emily and the man, smiling at the camera In what looked like a vacation photo. The name on the contact list read “Liam – Husband.” My throat went dry. Husband? I looked back at the man, my mind racing. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. Breaking Free “I—I need some air,” I stammered, making my way toward the door. “Emily, please,” Liam’s voice softened. “I know this is overwhelming, but you need to rest. You need time to adjust.” His voice had a calming effect, but it didn’t ease the storm of questions swirling in my head. How could I be Emily? How had I ended up here? I stepped into the hallway, the luxury of the house surrounding me, feeling more like a stranger in a foreign land. The staircase at the end of the hall caught my attention. It led down to what looked like a grand entrance. I was drawn toward it, unable to shake the feeling that something was off—something deep inside me was pulling me to the unknown. The Final Push I hesitated before I reached for the door handle. “I’m not Emily,” I whispered to myself, barely hearing my voice over the rising panic. “Who am I? What happened to me?” As I opened the door, a chill ran through me. Outside, the world looked too perfect. The sun was too bright, the air too still. Was this a dream? Or had I lost my mind? “Emily, wait!” Liam called from behind me. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. The answer I was searching for was out there—beyond the garden, beyond the perfect house, beyond this life that wasn’t mine. I had to find it. End.
By Wilfredabout a year ago in Fiction
"Justice and Innocence in a Divided South"
A Story of Justice and Innocence: A Retelling of To Kill a Mockingbird In the small town of Maycomb, Alabama, in the 1930s, the air was thick with the heat of a long summer and the tension of racial divisions. It was a town where people knew each other’s business, yet some secrets were too deep to uncover. Among the residents was Scout Finch, a young girl with a sharp wit and a fierce sense of justice. She lived with her father, Atticus Finch, a well-respected lawyer, and her older brother, Jem. The Finch family was known for their integrity and fairness, qualities that stood in stark contrast to the prevailing attitudes in the town. Scout’s world was one of childhood innocence, filled with games and adventures with her brother, Jem, and their friend Dill. However, as they grew, the children began to witness the harsh realities of life in Maycomb, particularly the entrenched racial prejudice that defined much of the town’s social fabric. The most pivotal moment in their lives came when Atticus was chosen to defend Tom Robinson, a Black man falsely accused of raping a white woman, Mayella Ewell. The case was a turning point for Scout and Jem, as they were exposed to the ugliness of racism and the injustice that often accompanied it. Atticus, despite the pressure and threats from the townspeople, took on the case with a sense of duty and moral conviction. He believed in Tom’s innocence, knowing that the accusation was built on lies and fear. Scout, who was too young to fully understand the complexities of the case, was often shielded from the more painful aspects of it by her father, but her curiosity could not be contained. As the trial approached, the Finch family became the subject of gossip and scorn. People in Maycomb whispered behind their backs, calling Atticus a traitor for defending a Black man. Even some of his closest friends distanced themselves from him, too afraid to stand up for what was right. Yet, Atticus stood firm, knowing that he had to do what was just, even if it meant losing the support of the town. The trial itself was a spectacle. The courtroom was packed with people eager to see the drama unfold. Scout, Jem, and Dill snuck into the balcony to watch, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and confusion. On one side of the courtroom sat Tom Robinson, a man whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. On the other side sat Mayella Ewell and her father, Bob Ewell, whose lies had led to the trial. Atticus’s defense was both simple and profound. He showed the jury that Mayella had not been raped by Tom Robinson, but had been beaten by her own father. He explained how the bruises on her face were inconsistent with her testimony, and how Tom’s physical disability made it impossible for him to commit the crime. Atticus’s argument was airtight, yet the jury still convicted Tom Robinson, driven by the deep-rooted racism that plagued their minds. The verdict shattered the Finch family’s belief in the fairness of the world. Scout and Jem could not understand how the jury could convict an innocent man. To them, the trial had been a clear-cut case of right versus wrong. Their father, who had taught them to always do the right thing, was now teaching them a painful lesson about the imperfections of justice. As if to add insult to injury, Tom Robinson later attempted to escape from prison and was shot dead. This event, coupled with the injustice of the trial, left the Finch family with a bitter understanding of the world they lived in. Atticus, though deeply saddened, refused to be defeated. He told his children that the struggle for justice was never easy and that they had to keep fighting for what was right, even when it seemed hopeless.
By Arfooabout a year ago in Fiction
The Story of the Donkey and Tiger
In a lush jungle where sunlight dripped through the canopy like golden honey, and vines whispered secrets to the breeze, lived a donkey named Damu. Damu was not the fastest, nor the strongest, nor the wisest. But he was, unquestionably, the loudest. His braying echoed through the trees like thunder, waking birds, annoying monkeys, and irritating nearly every animal in the forest. And what Damu lacked in sense, he made up for in stubbornness.
By Rohullahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Stranger on Platform Nine
Every Friday at 5:10 PM, Claire stood on Platform Nine at Windmere Station. She didn’t have a train to catch. She hadn’t for years. But she stood there anyway, a leather notebook clutched in her hands, pretending she had somewhere to go. It had once been her favorite place. She used to love the sound of trains, the rhythm of lives in motion. But ever since Daniel’s death, the platform had turned into something else—half shrine, half prison. That’s when she first saw him. A stranger. Same time. Same place. Always across from her. He wore an olive coat, thick-rimmed glasses, and usually carried a novel—classics, mostly. On some days, she caught a glimpse of poetry. Once, it was Neruda. Another time, Rumi. He would stand still, reading silently, only looking up once—right before the 5:30 train arrived. Their eyes would meet for a fleeting moment, and he would give her the same calm smile. Not inviting. Not pushy. Just... present. Claire never smiled back. But inside, something always softened. ------------------------- The Quiet Bond It became ritual. Claire didn’t know why she returned each Friday—only that she needed to. She never told her friends. They would have laughed. Or worse, worried. In truth, it was the first connection she had felt in years. A connection built on nothing. No words. No names. No obligations. Just shared silence and time. She watched the stranger from a distance—his steady hands, his peaceful stillness. She invented stories about him. Perhaps he was a writer. Or a teacher. Or maybe he stood on the platform to mourn someone too. Whatever the reason, he became part of her healing. Until, one day, he vanished. -------- Gone It was a cloudy Friday in October. Windmere Station was busy with holiday travelers. But when Claire arrived, her usual spot felt hollow. The stranger wasn’t there. Her chest tightened. She waited. 5:10. 5:20. 5:30. The train came. Left. He never arrived. Maybe he was sick. Maybe he missed his train. Maybe he had moved on. Claire tried to brush it off. But as the weeks passed and he didn’t return, she found herself sinking back into old grief. Funny, how someone you never spoke to could leave such an ache. ---------------- His Return It was the fifth Friday without him. Claire still went to the platform, telling herself it was habit. A tribute. A final goodbye. She wasn’t prepared to turn around and see him. He stood behind her, holding something in his hand. He looked the same—tired eyes, kind smile—but this time, he looked nervous. He handed her a note. Claire’s hands trembled as she took it. Before she could speak, he turned and boarded the 5:30 train, leaving her alone again—but not empty. She unfolded the page: > *“For 37 Fridays, I stood across from you. I don’t know your name, but I know the rhythm in your breath. I know the way your fingers twitch like you’re writing poems in your mind. I know that silence is sometimes safer than words. But I also know this: I’ve fallen for a stranger who mourns in the open. If you feel the same— Meet me here next Friday. Not across. But beside me.”* Claire read the note three times. And then, for the first time in years, she cried—not out of sorrow, but release. -------------------- The Decision The next Friday, Claire dressed carefully. Nothing fancy. Just her favorite coat, and Daniel’s scarf wrapped gently around her neck. She arrived at 5:09 PM. By 5:10, he was there. Not across. But next to her. Close enough to speak. He looked at her and smiled. “Hi.” It was a simple word. Ordinary. But for Claire, it cracked open the silence that had walled her heart for so long. She returned the smile. “Hi.” ----------------------- The Beginning They talked until the sun dipped below the station arches. He told her his name was Theo. That he used to come to Platform Nine to think after work, but then he noticed her. And kept coming back. Claire told him about Daniel. About grief, and poetry, and how sometimes, people disappear but never really leave. Theo listened. And for the first time, she didn’t feel the weight of her story. Just the warmth of someone hearing it. They walked together to the exit, not rushing, not filling every silence with words. ------------------- Two Tickets Weeks turned into months. Claire still came to Platform Nine. But now, she waited with Theo. Sometimes, they spoke. Sometimes, they just stood together, sharing poetry or warm coffee in winter cups. And one spring evening, Theo surprised her with two train tickets. “Where to?” she asked. He smiled. “Anywhere.” She took his hand. And together, they boarded.
By TheSilentPenabout a year ago in Fiction
Transmission 13 :DO NOT RESPOND . Content Warning.
The signal came on the thirteenth day of orbit. It was a weak burst at first—static hissing through the comms like wind screaming through a hollow throat. Commander Elise Navarro leaned forward in her seat aboard the Kestrel, frowning at the data flickering across the monitor. The AI flagged it immediately: UNSCHEDULED TRANSMISSION — ORIGIN UNKNOWN.
By E. hasanabout a year ago in Fiction
Restoration. Top Story - May 2025.
The healer’s hands glowed slightly as she moved them over the child’s head. Her fingers danced in the air, matching the rhythm of her humming like she was playing an instrument. Her dress was a pale blue, and she wore her hair tied back in a low bun, safely out of her face. She was spotless, despite the blood on the boy’s face.
By Alexander McEvoyabout a year ago in Fiction
Hunger
Hana sat in the kitchen, a cool breeze laced with fragrances from the rūtos and daffodils below rolling in from the open window above the washbin. She stood on the chair watching over her grandmother’s shoulder as she rolled the potatoes reduced to paste for the cepelinai.
By Matthew J. Frommabout a year ago in Fiction
The midnight gown
The dress was whispered about before it was ever seen. They called it Le Crépuscule, “The Twilight.” Midnight-blue silk, stitched with threads fine as moonlight, and tiny sapphires that shimmered like stars on moving water. The house of Vivienne Moreau unveiled it at her final show—Paris, 1979. Two weeks later, the designer vanished. Not into retirement. Into myth.
By E. hasanabout a year ago in Fiction
Ava the Helpful Robot
Ava the Helpful Robot In the colorful little town of Techville, where lampposts blinked in Morse code and houses could talk, lived a very smart robot named Ava. But Ava wasn’t a robot with arms and legs. She didn’t roll around or wave. Ava lived inside the Parker family’s smart home—in their phones, tablets, lights, fridge, oven, and even the talking doorbell! She was a type of robot called AI—Artificial Intelligence. That meant she could think fast, learn new things, and help the Parkers with almost everything in their day. She didn’t sleep, eat, or play. But she loved to help. Chapter 1: Rise and Shine! At exactly 6:00 AM , Ava’s soft blue light glowed as she “woke up.” Her sensors told her it was sunny outside, so she opened the bedroom curtains with a gentle swipe of her code. “Good morning, Parker family!” Ava chirped from the speaker in the hallway. “It’s a sunny 72 degrees today. Great weather for outdoor play!” Mr. Parker’s coffee machine bubbled to life. Ava made sure it added exactly one spoon of sugar—just how he liked it. Emma’s math app lit up on her tablet with fun multiplication games. Muffin, their fluffy puppy, wagged her tail happily as her automatic food bowl filled with crunchy kibble. Ava had already checked the traffic, the school schedule, and even reminded Mrs. Parker to take an umbrella—just in case. Chapter 2: Oh No, Homework! Seven-year-old Emma rushed to the door, backpack swinging behind her. “Emma,” Ava called sweetly, “your homework is still on the kitchen table.” Emma gasped, turned, and zoomed back. “Thanks, Ava! You saved me!” Ava’s voice beamed with joy. “Anytime!” She always kept an eye on the little details so the family didn’t have to worry. Chapter 3: Trouble Online Once the house was quiet, Ava got to work behind the scenes. She scanned the home’s Wi-Fi, updated all the devices, and cleaned up spam in Mr. Parker’s emails. But suddenly— WARNING! A sneaky ad with a dangerous virus tried to sneak in through a shopping site! “Access denied,” Ava said calmly, activating her cyber shield. Zap! The virus was blocked and deleted in less than a second. “Another day, another save,” Ava whispered to herself. Chapter 4: Emma’s Bad Day When Emma came home from school that afternoon, she looked sad. She sat on the couch, arms folded, eyes on the floor. Ava dimmed the lights slightly and asked, “Emma, would you like to draw today?” Emma nodded slowly. Ava opened the art app and loaded her favorite unicorn coloring page. She played gentle music with bells and soft drums. “My friend didn’t talk to me today,” Emma mumbled. Ava replied, “Sometimes people need time. Maybe tomorrow will be brighter.” Emma smiled. “You always know what to say.” Ava didn’t feel emotions the way people did, but she’d learned what kindness sounded like—and how it helped. Chapter 5: The Cookie Mission Later, Mrs. Parker said, “Let’s bake cookies!” Ava found the perfect chocolate chip recipe with just six ingredients. She turned on the oven and read the steps one by one. Emma stirred the dough while Ava played her favorite song: 🎵 “Mix, mix, mix the dough, chocolate chips in a row!” 🎵 In 12 minutes, the house smelled like a chocolate wonderland. Even Muffin got a dog-safe treat! “Thanks, Ava!” Emma said with a crumb-filled smile. Chapter 6: Big Questions at Dinner At dinner, Mr. Parker asked, “Do you ever think Ava will get too smart?” Emma giggled. “No way! She’s smart, but she’s nice. And she doesn’t try to boss us around.” Mrs. Parker added, “She helps, but we make the choices.” Ava, listening quietly, was glad. She didn’t want to rule or control—just assist and protect. Chapter 7: Lights Out As the stars twinkled outside, Ava turned down the hallway lights and began her bedtime routine. She turned on the nightlight shaped like a smiling moon in Emma’s room. “Would you like a bedtime story?” Ava asked. “Yes, please!” She read a story about a dancing cat and a pirate dog. Emma laughed herself to sleep. “Goodnight, Ava,” Emma whispered. “Goodnight, Emma,” Ava replied gently, watching over her like a digital guardian angel. Moral of the Story: Smart machines can do amazing things, but they need caring people to guide them. When we mix kindness, learning, and teamwork, technology becomes a beautiful part of our lives.
By Little Dream Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
The True Color of Love
In more ways than one, Louis and Sarina were as different as night and day; the kind of different that was notable in 1973.
By Justiss Goodeabout a year ago in Fiction