Short Story
Selections from the Grand Bazaar
It was odd how cold the room was where Lisa Moreaux was set to conduct her final interview with Vargos serial killer Carter Erikson on the night of his scheduled execution. She had done many of these interviews at Vargos’ various penitentiaries, including one built smack dab in the middle of Smog City’s coolant manufacturing campus, where the surrounding atmosphere maintained a steady ten degrees below average temperature. Even there, the interview room hadn’t been this cold.
By R.R. Stephenson2 years ago in Fiction
Red Envelopes
The warmth of the sand at my toes and the sunshine on my face put my mind at ease. The waves of the ocean rocked gently on the salted sea shore, every now and then, some sea weed or fragments of fossilized sea creatures washed up on shore. My wife lie beside me, clad in a white bikini and reading some trashy romance novel. I wrote trash myself. Horror junk, but I liked to think that my trash was be$er than the trash my wife read. Perhaps the two of us could be characters in some novel. I, a man of thirty &ve, pudgy white belly, wearing red swim trunks. My wife Anita’s abdominal muscles tensed as she periodically applied generous amounts of suntan oil to the muscles. I was deaf to the world, wearing my headphones and reading my own li$le horror novel and periodically I would scribble down some notes on my yellow legal pad. My wife was a Florida na*ve. I was a Midwestern boy. Ini*ally from Ohio. Before I moved to Florida, the only beaches I had ever seen was on the television. I was on a book tour promo*ng my &rst book when I met Anita. She had come to hear me speak at Walmart and from the moment I &rst saw her, I said there is nothing for me in Ohio and I did not even bother going home or packing. I learned she loved the beach, but had never owned beachfront property before. Bought a beachside house and we were married in a year. We had been married eight y ears. I had wri$en four books since then and had acquired a net worth of about sixty million dollars. A seagull landed next to me and snapped at me.
By DJ Robbins2 years ago in Fiction
Inconvenient Love. Top Story - March 2025.
This is bad. I knew immediately from the look on Mark's face that I had made a mistake. Shit. I had just woken up from a nap on the couch to the sound of a car door slamming. I scrambled to my feet to greet Mark at the kitchen door as the memories of what I’d done came back to me. I slowed. Waiting.
By Siobhan McSweeney2 years ago in Fiction
Endless Tides of Love. AI-Generated.
"For a truly immersive experience, we invite you to listen to Arrival of the Birds as you read." 🎶✨ The first time Elias saw Seraphina, she was sitting alone on the edge of the old pier, watching the waves crash against the rocks. Her hair was tangled by the salty wind, her eyes distant, as if she belonged to the sea itself.
By Luna Everhart✨2 years ago in Fiction
The unfortunate space marine
I awoke in the wreckage of my shuttle, checking for my limbs and inhaling the burning oil. Wait, burning oil? I scrambled up, grabbed my rifle and rolled out. I had no clue where I was besides an alien planet with possibly man-eating animals and aliens. Looking around to the dual-finned tail end of our shuttle, I saw a rock outcropping dropping into a dip in the ground. Getting my very jelly legs under me I tossed my rifle and myself into it. The shuttle finally burned back to its fuel source and both engines combusted flinging metal and burning fuel in a cluster about the forest. Thankfully it was wet enough that it would not ignite the greenery.
By Winter Songbird2 years ago in Fiction
