Short Story

Bog Hag's Tale
The swamp had always been kind to me. Taking shelter beneath the grand willow, I allowed myself a long sigh. Roots like long fingers brushed against my skin.
By Panda of Pandemonium2 years ago in Fiction
The Last Thing She Engineered. First Place in Fantasy Prologue II Challenge.
A prologue for the Fantasy Prologue II challenge...you can listen to the professionally narrated version here as you read along.Let me know in the comments if you'd like to hear the full story!
By Tiffany Harris2 years ago in Fiction
Peanuts, Walnuts, Pecans
This story was originally published on Medium. ************** It’s been a long day for Sam, running everywhere, running every which way, it felt as if he was running for his life at every turn.
By Stephen Kramer Avitabile2 years ago in Fiction
The Real Key To Problem Solving:It's Not About Education Or Exposure
Title:The Real Key to Problem Solving: It’s Not About Education or ExposureSubtitle:Why True Change Comes from Those Who Understand the Problem at Its Core---Article:In today’s world, we often look to people with degrees and extensive backgrounds for answers. It’s a common belief that those with more education or wider exposure hold the solutions to the toughest issues we face. But is it really about credentials? Or could the truth be simpler—and closer to home?Consider Sara, a high school dropout in a small, tight-knit town. She never went to college and hadn’t traveled beyond her state. Yet, she saw her community’s struggle with youth unemployment, addiction, and a lack of opportunity. Sara knew these problems intimately—she’d lived them herself. Rather than accept them as just “the way things are,” she saw potential for change.Sara understood the problem deeply, more than any outsider could. She didn’t have a polished resume or academic accolades. But she had one essential quality: an understanding of her community's needs and the determination to make a difference. She began organizing local workshops for teens to learn skills in carpentry, gardening, and basic tech. With every workshop, another young person found hope, confidence, and a pathway forward.Sara’s story challenges the notion that education or exposure are the most valuable tools for change. The reality is that those closest to the problem, who understand its nuances, often hold the clearest vision for solving it. And with a capacity for action, they become powerful agents of change.Perhaps we need to shift our gaze. Real solutions don’t always come from polished presentations or high-ranking officials. They come from people like Sara—those who understand the pain points deeply and possess the courage to make an impact. The key to change is not about where you’ve been, but what you know at your core and your commitment to bettering it.
By Samuel Asamoah2 years ago in Fiction
Cold Turkey
The silence between tick and tock stretches, threatens to suffocate me. They all hate me. I wish I hadn't come. I don't even like turkey.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
"On the day the queen died, the river ran backward!"
Author: Dream Books Sanjeevi "Spring River" is a sacred site where people share sorrows and find peace of mind in the shadow of love.
By Sanjeevi Kandasamy2 years ago in Fiction
The Fall of Styx
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. The souls of Tartarus cheered in ecstasy as the forces holding them prisoner died down, and those of Elysium begged for aid as they were pulled forth ‘gainst their will. The true horror was Asphodel, as their typical moaning, groaning, and unenthused, hushed voices rose in a symphony of distress, uprooted from their peacefully average days. Each soul, regardless of their prior lodgings, howled in agony as they reached the last remaining shreds of barrier that coated the river’s surface and made up the gates of the Underworld. It clawed at them, wrestling to hold onto its prisoners as it was tasked to.
By Lizzy Rose2 years ago in Fiction
YOU'RE ALL MINE - ch 7
YOU’RE ALL MINE - ch 7 (the magic of Midnight) ^ ^ Mia carefully read Finola’s book on Ley lines and realized they were much more than the lines indicating longitude and latitude. If you knew where you were going, jumping a line was as easy as breathing. Jump on a wrong one, and, well? You could end up in Timbuktu or at a sudden stop that propelled you in a sprawling fall which resulted in you lying flat on your face. If Mia were truly serious about learning how to jump a line, she’d have to fiercely study Finola’s book and experiment, but not without heeding her great aunt’s warning: “until you have excelled at jumping a line, never go without me.”
By Margaret Brennan2 years ago in Fiction
Bound By Blood
The storm outside raged, casting lightning that flickered through the tiny gaps in the closed shutters, illuminating the old manor. Sarah, seated by the dim fireplace, waited in tense silence. Her fingers tapped nervously on the worn wood of her father’s armchair as she waited for her twin brother, Daniel, to arrive. They hadn’t seen each other in nearly a decade, and tonight was the night they were to discuss the inheritance—the one thing their estranged family was bound by. When they were younger, Sarah and Daniel were inseparable, the very definition of bound by blood. But their lives diverged sharply when their mother died, and their father remarried a woman who wanted nothing to do with his children. She made sure they felt unwanted, and eventually, Daniel left, furious with their father and vowing never to return. Sarah had stayed, mostly out of necessity. She felt a sense of obligation to their father, no matter how strained their relationship became. The door creaked open, and Daniel entered. The years had changed him; his face was sharper, his eyes hardened, but he still had the same determined stride Sarah remembered. They exchanged a brief, awkward greeting, both aware that the weight of the past hung heavily in the air. Their father’s death had not brought either of them any grief. He was a man of wealth, but his life had been devoid of affection for his children. His will, however, had left everything to the siblings, on the condition that they lived together for one year in the family home. If they couldn’t fulfill this term, everything would go to charity. Daniel scoffed as they read the terms together, his voice dripping with bitterness. "So, even in death, he wants to control us," he muttered. Sarah glanced at him, and for a moment, the anger and resentment they both felt toward their father was visible. She felt her own frustration bubble up but quickly forced it down, reminding herself that she had spent years learning to be composed. “I don’t want anything,” Daniel said after a moment, surprising Sarah. "I just came because… I thought maybe it was time to bury the past." The words shocked her. She’d expected a fight, some explosion of anger that would reaffirm the distance between them. But here he was, suggesting peace. “Do you mean that?” she asked softly, her voice laced with disbelief. He nodded, his expression softening. “I don’t want to spend another decade filled with hatred. We lost so much already.” His voice trembled slightly, betraying the years of pain he’d carried. For the first time in years, Sarah felt her heart open to him. “Maybe we can try, then,” she said, a hint of hope flickering in her voice. “We’ll stay here, fulfill the condition, and… see if we can build something from the ashes.” They fell into silence again, but this time, it was a more comfortable one. They spoke about old memories, their mother, the good times they’d had before things went wrong. The hours passed, and by morning, they had started to rebuild the bridge their father had worked so hard to tear down. As the first rays of dawn filtered through the window, Sarah looked over at her brother. She knew they had a long road ahead, but for the first time, she felt they might be able to heal. Their father’s legacy might be wealth, but their true inheritance was the bond they shared, one that no will or condition could sever. Bound by blood, they had a chance to reclaim the family they’d lost—and, together, start anew.
By zulfi bux2 years ago in Fiction
"Trump's Health Shakeup: What Robert F. Kennedy Jr. Could Mean for Public Health and Drugmakers"
Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s potential role in U.S. health policy under a second Trump administration is drawing significant attention and concern, particularly among healthcare professionals and public health experts. Former President Donald Trump has suggested appointing Kennedy, a prominent vaccine skeptic, to oversee public health agencies, including the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) and other major agencies like the CDC and FDA. This potential appointment is part of Trump’s plan to “shake up” these institutions, which he claims are bogged down by bureaucracy and corporate influence.
By Red Light signal2 years ago in Fiction
See the world through touch
Alex had always been a man of vision. As a young boy, he'd spent countless hours lost in the world of art, his fingers tracing the lines of masterpieces and his imagination soaring beyond the canvas. But fate, with a cruel twist, had a different plan. A sudden accident left him with a scarred eye, a constant reminder of the fragility of perfection.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction
Echoes of the Raven
The night my husband drew his last breath, a raven perched itself on the windowsill, its obsidian eyes piercing into my soul. As Jonathan's life slipped away, the raven's haunting caw echoed through the room, a melancholic requiem bidding farewell to the man I loved.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction