Short Story

Would You Think I Was Strange
They move, you know. When I'm not looking. If I look the other way, or blink, or (oh god no) fall asleep. When I open my eyes, they're closer than before.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
Dame Agartha Is Alive and Well
Marnie hesitated on the path, wondering if she was walking into an Agatha Christie novel. Tentatively she took some steps. The smell of jasmine and the ever so slight breeze brought the sounds of bees to her ears.
By Kenneth Lawson2 years ago in Fiction
Circo delle Sogni Perduti. Top Story - October 2024.
A whirlwind of orange, auburn, and golden leaves danced through the somber downtown. Just a decade back, Halloween had been a revered tradition in the community. Shops took pride in decorating for the ghoulish season, households competed for the scariest yard, and everyone donned a costume. Parties, parades, porch lights aglow. Things change so quickly; blink and you might miss it. In recent years, Halloween came and went with hardly anyone noticing. A shoddy cling of a witch or ghost affixed in a window or two, a jack-o'-lantern half-heartedly carved between emails and internet scrolling, perhaps a mask or a puerile costume bought in haste—but hardly a porch light to be seen.
By M.R. Cameo2 years ago in Fiction
Pugo
Mika started crying. ‘’Cry all you want, honey. I can have any woman I want. I’m Harrison Beamish. I’m a Goddamn literary genius. I’m ge-ng horny, suck my dick.’’ Harrison ordered. She unzipped his pants, unbu>oned them and did as she was told. ‘’That’s actually not bad. Have you been prac'cing?’’ Harrison asked.Pulling his dick out her mouth, she mu>ered a yes. Admi-ng prac'cing on a banana. ‘’Keep going, sweetheart. I got to cum,’’ Harrison stated. She returned to her work. The rain beat the shit out of the Mercedes. Lightning lit up the sky. He came in her mouth. She rolled down the window and spit out the semen before rolling the window back up. She looked around. ‘’Seems we’re ge-ng close to the sight where that accident happened,’’ Mika conjectured.‘’Oh yeah. You mean the one that killed all those girls?’’ Harrison asked.Mika nodded. ‘’Yep.’’‘’All because some dumb broad was yacking on her cellphone. They should take away women’s licenses. They can’t drive anyway,’’ Harrison snarled.‘’You’re such a pig,’’ Mika found herself saying.Harrison reached up and slapped Mika. She grabbed her burning cheek and gazed dumbfounded at her a>acker.
By DJ Robbins2 years ago in Fiction
The Last Whisper
The Wind carried a soft, haunting whisper through the old village, as though a voice long forgotten had returned for its final words. That evening, as the mist thickened around the cliffs, young Marlowe found an envelope wedged between the bricks of his grandfather's cottage—one with his name, but written decades before he was even born. --- Marlowe Hughes had always loved the hidden corners of the seaside village his family called home. Cragmore, with its weathered stone cottages, ghostly mists, and old lighthouse, held a quiet allure, a feeling that something in its ancient streets had never truly left. But after his grandfather passed, Marlowe returned to the village only to settle the estate, packing away fragments of a man who rarely spoke of his past. On his last night, after hours of sorting through dust-covered trinkets, Marlowe stepped outside for air. That’s when he noticed a faint glimmer near the ivy-covered corner of the house—a thin envelope wedged tightly between the stones. When he pried it free, Marlowe froze; it was addressed to him. Yet something was wrong: the handwriting was his grandfather’s, but the ink was faded, and the paper was brittle, as though written decades ago. --- Inside the envelope lay a single note, cryptic yet urgent: "Follow the lighthouse beam when the clock strikes midnight. The truth lies within the shadows it casts." The words sent chills down Marlowe’s spine, stirring memories of his grandfather’s distant gaze each time the lighthouse beam swept over the village at night. No one ever seemed to know what he was looking for—or hiding from. Marlowe glanced at his watch. Just five minutes to midnight. --- He made his way to the cliffside, the lighthouse standing tall against the inky sky. Its light pulsed in rhythm, washing over him, illuminating a jagged path carved into the rock—a path he had never seen before. As he followed it, shadows played tricks with his mind, but he pressed on until he reached the base of the lighthouse. There, in the glow of the beam, he saw an inscription carved into the stone: "Some secrets never die, Marlowe. And some echoes are never silenced." Just then, he heard the softest sound—a whisper, as if from behind him. Marlowe spun around, but the darkness was silent. Yet, when he looked back at the stone, a new line had appeared beneath the inscription. His heart raced as he read the words: "She knows you're here." --- From that night forward, Marlowe would always wonder if he had met the truth—or if it had met him.
By Mohammad Hussaib2 years ago in Fiction
Witch Hunt. Top Story - November 2024.
“Mrs. Catchpole is not a witch.” “But mummy she is…” “… Just because she wears black dresses and has a cat doesn’t mean… Hang on a minute,” she says shaking her head. “I’m not arguing with you Millie. I’m telling you.”
By Caroline Craven2 years ago in Fiction
The Whisper of the Fallen Trees
There lived a vivacious squirrel by the name Piku in the Mumbled Woods where it counts for friends and family. His abode is this extraordinary oak tree whose embracing arms are spread out into ideal residence for every squirrel of the forest. Piku's life went stacked up with chuckling, games, and the fundamental delights of party oak seeds and oak seeds with his closest friend, Moona. They would go through hours hustling through the branches, playing track down the stowaway, and sharing their dreams under the warm, dappled sunlight isolating through the leaves.
By Nazim Hussain2 years ago in Fiction
The silent Return. Content Warning.
When the war ended, Frank returned home after many years. When he had left for the war front, his eldest son, Finn, was twelve years old. However, Finn had not yet spoken a single word, which was a source of concern for Frank and his wife. He had three children in total—two boys and a girl. When he returned home, he was overjoyed, and his wife hugged him tightly the moment she saw him. His three children were delighted with his presence, as they were seeing their father after many years. Thus, two years passed in happiness, with everything peaceful and normal. Frank's family was very content. But one day, suddenly, Frank’s wife and all three of his children disappeared. Frank searched for them tirelessly, but they were nowhere to be found. A week passed like this, and Frank could not believe what had happened. His wife and children had vanished as if they had never existed at all. Then, one day, he opened the basement of his house, which had been locked for many years. His eyes widened in shock. His eyes were so wide they seemed ready to pop out. His mouth opened as much as it could, even more. His breathing quickened, and his heartbeat was so loud it could be heard from outside. His hands and feet grew cold as if all the blood in his body had dried up. Being a soldier, he gathered all his courage and began to step forward. “What lay before his eyes was something like this.” Five graves were dug in the basement; three of them were filled with soil, while two remained open. In the fourth grave lay a skeleton, while the fifth grave was still empty. In the hands of that skeleton was an old, dust-covered letter, like a testimony to some untold mystery captured by the wheel of time. With trembling hands, Frank picked up the letter and began to read it. “Several letters in the letter had faded, and some words had vanished altogether. But it could still be read.” “Father, I have buried Mom, Scarlett, and Adam. I am also lying in my grave. When you come, please bury me too. I have also dug a grave for you. When you die, you can lie with us in your grave. We are waiting for you in our new home.” – Finn Reading this, Frank was stunned. For two years, no one had opened the basement door. This was clear, as Frank had struggled to open the basement door when he tried. The lock had rusted, so he had to break it open. The date written on the letter was from many years ago. Who were the people who had been living with him for the past two years? And where had they all suddenly disappeared to? After this incident, Frank fell into deep despair. He eventually left that house, but the fear within him never left. Sometime later, he learned that exactly two years ago, his sixty-year-old neighbor, Steve, had also disappeared suddenly, and his body had been found six months later in his own home. Frank sold the house and moved to another city. But a year later, Frank, too, suddenly disappeared. Despite extensive efforts, he was never found. The person who had bought Frank’s house eventually rented it out a year later. And when the tenant opened the basement of the house, what he saw was terrifying. He saw five graves in the basement. Four of them were filled with soil, while an ill-positioned skeleton lay in the fifth grave.
By Karan w. 2 years ago in Fiction
YOU'RE ALL MINE - ch 5
YOU’RE ALL MINE - ch 5 (the magic of Midnight) ^ ^ As Mia took off with her friend Adrian in her arms and Midnight, in fear of flying, wrapped tightly around Mia’s neck, Mickey shouted to the others, “Please, everyone pack up. I need to get home. I’ll call you as soon as I can.” With that, he sprouted his wings (something he rarely did) and took off for Mia’s house.
By Margaret Brennan2 years ago in Fiction
The Divorce Agreement
Lily sat at the oak table, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee mixing with the aroma of her worries. The late morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on the documents laid out before her. Today was the day she and Mark would finalize their divorce—a chapter she never thought would close. The weight of the past pressed heavily on her chest, reminding her of the dreams that had unraveled over the years. She glanced up as the front door creaked open, and Mark stepped in, his presence a mix of familiarity and discomfort. He wore a navy blazer that had seen better days, its sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms that spoke of endless hours at the gym. “Hey,” he said, offering a tentative smile. “Hey,” she replied, trying to match his tone. The silence that followed was thick, filled with unspoken words and memories they both wished they could erase. Mark slid into the chair opposite her, the tension in the room palpable. “So, ready?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly. “Yeah,” Lily replied, looking at the stack of papers. They had spent weeks negotiating the terms of their separation, but sitting here now felt surreal. This was it—the culmination of years of love, laughter, and ultimately, heartache. They had met in college, two bright-eyed students in love with life and each other. Their passion had ignited quickly, and before long, they were inseparable. They built a life together, but as time passed, the cracks began to show. Their once fiery romance had fizzled into a dull routine. They had drifted apart, the emotional distance overshadowed by everyday responsibilities. The fight that had finally pushed them to this point echoed in her mind—a harsh, biting argument that had shattered their fragile foundation. “Let’s just get through this,” Mark said, breaking her reverie. He pushed the documents toward her. “I think we’re good with everything. The house, the accounts… it’s all settled.” Lily nodded, her heart racing. The legalities felt cold and distant, but she knew they were necessary. She reached for the pen, her hand trembling slightly. “Are you sure about everything?” she asked, searching his eyes for any hint of doubt. Mark leaned back, a sigh escaping his lips. “I am. I think we both need this. It’s what’s best for us.” His gaze shifted to the window, as if the answer lay in the clouds outside. “Best for us,” she echoed, a bitter taste in her mouth. It felt like a hollow reassurance. As she signed her name, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of the decision. This was not just a legal contract; it was a severing of ties, a confirmation of the life they once shared. Once the last signature was inked, Mark took a deep breath, a mixture of relief and sadness washing over his features. “It’s done,” he said quietly, as if trying to convince himself. “Yeah,” Lily replied, her voice barely above a whisper. The finality of it all hit her, and tears pricked at her eyes. “What now?” “I guess we move on,” he said, his tone softening. “It’ll be hard, but… we’ll find a way.” “Will we?” she questioned, her heart aching at the thought of their lives diverging so completely. The promise of a future without each other felt daunting. “Maybe,” Mark replied, an uncertain smile breaking through. “I mean, we can still be friends. We have history, right?” “History,” she repeated, a small smile breaking through her sadness. “A lot of it.” They sat in silence for a moment, memories flooding back—lazy Sundays spent on the couch, laughter shared over silly inside jokes, and the late-night talks that had once connected their souls. Finally, Mark stood up, extending his hand. “Take care, Lily. I truly wish you the best.” She took his hand, feeling a rush of emotions as they shared a final moment of connection. “You too, Mark. I hope you find happiness.” As he walked out the door, Lily felt a mix of sorrow and liberation. The divorce agreement had marked an end, but also the beginning of something new—a chance to rediscover herself beyond the confines of their shared life. She took a deep breath, embracing the uncertainty of her future, ready to navigate the path ahead.
By zulfi bux2 years ago in Fiction
The Curse of Ravenwood Manor
The Curse of Ravenwood Manor Every Halloween, the small, mist-covered town of Ravenwood fell under a chilling spell. Known for its spooky atmosphere and ancient legends, Ravenwood attracted both thrill-seekers and ghost hunters from far and wide. But amidst all the haunted tales, one story remained the most terrifying—the Curse of Ravenwood Manor.
By Nada soliman2 years ago in Fiction
The Last Attribution
Maria Martinez strode into the quarterly business review with her signature confidence, armed with a PowerPoint deck that would make any marketing influencer proud. Slides filled with hockey-stick graphs, explosive ROAS numbers, and enough marketing buzzwords to fill a Silicon Valley bingo card.
By John Reb2 years ago in Fiction