Short Story
Wonderment
The rough-hewn field stones that composed the tower wall almost started to feel soft every time she leaned against them. The effort of holding herself up was becoming so tiresome that it was preferable to lie on the dirt and straw floor than keep standing.
By K.B. Silver 2 years ago in Fiction
Where the Music Stopped, We Started
The sun hit the cobblestones just right that afternoon, spilling gold over the street like something sacred. Shops buzzed, dogs barked, children weaved between legs and tables, and above it all, music floated—bright, bold, and utterly unexpected.
By Alpha Cortex2 years ago in Fiction
The Last Letter She Never Sent. AI-Generated.
The rain was light but steady, soaking into cobblestones that had seen centuries pass. It was the kind of rain that blurred the edges of everything—buildings, thoughts, memories. Elena walked slowly through the narrow streets of the old quarter, her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her gray wool coat. A scarf with fading floral prints hugged her neck, and her red hair, damp at the edges, clung to her skin.
By Alpha Cortex2 years ago in Fiction
Like a house on fire
The fireplace had breathed its last in the wee hours of that morning. Powdery grey ash now lounged where hot flames had sprung to life only hours before. It was Sam's job to clean it out every morning, and he hated doing it. But Jill had said he didn't do enough around the house, and she had been really angry about that this time.
By Marie McGrath2 years ago in Fiction
When the Sky Took Over
It was on the night of March 31, 2025, just like any other. It was a quiet evening in a coastal town. Mark Ellis was a grease-stained 42-year-old mechanic with a passion for old radios. In his garage, he was fine-tuning a radio. On the corner, his teenage daughter Ellie sat; she was reclining on the ground, playing on her phone with her earbuds pumping music. It was the same old refrigerator hummy quiet outside combined with the dim light of streetlights reflecting off the street. But then at 8:47 p.m., utter silence—lights flickered off, the screens of every electrical device bid adieu, and a deathly stillness fell. Mark flipped the switch on the garagelight; nothing.
By Nayan Jonaki Bora2 years ago in Fiction
A Killer, A Victim, An Old Friend, And A Cop Have Lunch And A Confession
A man in dress pants and a black button-down pours a cup of coffee as the phone on his desk rings continually. He looks at his watch and realizes there’s nobody else in the office. Walking from the breakroom to his desk, Danny picks up the phone. In mere seconds, his face turns from stoic to a subtle mixture of confusion and shock. It was the last person he expected to call him, especially in a world where everybody turns to text messages as their primary way of communicating.
By Jason Morton2 years ago in Fiction
War Bride. Top Story - April 2025.
Princess Kathryn hadn't expected to actually marry her kidnapper. Kathryn would have done her duty as it was laid before her - she'd fantasized only briefly about shipwrecks and daring rescues, or the carriage breaking a wheel and necessitating that they turn back - on her way to her wedding. The price of a princess's privilege was that her life was not hers to command, but at the service of her people. That didn't mean that she couldn't have quiet complaints about marrying someone nearly her father's age, as Duke James of Slesian was.
By Natasja Rose2 years ago in Fiction
The Girl Who Dreamed of Gold
Lena wiped the sweat from her brow, her small hands trembling as she scrubbed the last of the dishes. The kitchen was cramped, the air thick with the smell of grease and boiled cabbage. Through the thin walls, she could hear her father coughing—a deep, rattling sound that made her chest ache.
By Patrícia Prado2 years ago in Fiction
