Short Story

A Father's Love
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. Riley scooped up the water, urgently filling every pot and pan he could muster whilst his hands trembled. Placing the various containers into the wheelbarrow, he rushed back down the hill towards the house, trying desperately not to spill.
By Sian N. Clutton2 years ago in Fiction
The Children of Ra!
Chapter 1: The Birth of Chaos In the beginning, there was only Nun, the primeval waters. Infinite, dark, and formless, Nun contained all that would be, yet held nothing. From this timeless void emerged Ra, the god of the sun, shining brighter than anything that had ever existed. His light cut through the darkness, creating order from the boundless chaos. From Ra’s breath and power, the first gods were born: Shu, god of the air, and Tefnut, goddess of moisture. Together, they brought balance to the world, separating sky from earth and creating space for life to begin.
By Zainab Adamali2 years ago in Fiction
𝕱𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗'𝖘 𝕷𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖓
This was written for Mike Singleton's Octoberon Challenge for the International Walk To School Month: * * * The girl craved attention. No one understood why — her parents loved and cared for her, yet she still didn’t feel right in her own skin. People often told her things like, “Others have it worse” or “You should be happy to be healthy,” but those words didn’t make her feel any better. At school, she tried to fill this emptiness by picking on her classmates. She’d make rude remarks whenever she felt like it, and soon enough, everyone started avoiding her. One day, her parents found out she’d been bullying others, and they were shocked. They thought everything was fine—she’d come home, go to her room to study, and stay out of trouble. They never imagined she might have trouble fitting in. Her dad was especially upset. After a serious talk that night, he decided on a lesson. The next morning, as she was about to get into the car, he stopped her. “You’re walking to school today,” he said firmly. Annoyed, the girl sighed and started heading toward the bus stop. But her dad called after her, “I’ll go with you by car to make sure you don’t take the bus. If you try to, we’ll have a big problem.” The girl was shocked. “But, Dad, school is five miles away…” Her father's response was firm and cear.
By Anna 2 years ago in Fiction
Lenny the Artistic Squirrel. Top Story - October 2024.
You’re never too young to start writing. In Britain, the BBC 500 Words competition is currently underway, challenging children aged 5-11 to try and create their own short story.
By Andy Potts2 years ago in Fiction
The Final Journey Home
Jared ran through the station and barely caught the last train. Jared sat beside an older woman who stared out of the window. "You look just like my son," she said turning to him her eyes filled with memories. He listened for the whole ride to her tales by the time they reached the last stop, he had a second mother.
By Nasser Mahmoud2 years ago in Fiction
The Last Train Home
Jared rushed through the station, barely catching the last train. As he settled into a seat, he noticed an elderly woman staring out the window. She turned to him, eyes filled with memories, and said, “You look just like my son.” He listened to her stories the whole ride, and by the time they reached the last stop, he felt like he’d gained a second mother.
By Mercy Sigilai 2 years ago in Fiction
Lemonade on Ash Tree Lane
The summer I turned twelve was the hardest summer of my life. My family had just moved to a new town, and nothing felt familiar. The kids at school were polite but distant, and the days seemed to stretch on endlessly with nowhere to go and no one to talk to. I spent most of my time on the front porch, reading or simply staring out at the quiet street, wondering how long it would be until this place felt like home.
By 6087 Swathiga2 years ago in Fiction
The Slope Beneath My Feet
The sky was that fierce blue you only get in the middle of winter, the kind that cuts you through the eyes and sets your bones trembling. I stood strapped into skis that still felt like planks of lumber strapped to my feet, watching people shoot down the slope like it was nothing. Up close, you realize how brutal the Remarkables really are, no matter how picturesque they seem from down below in Queenstown. Standing at the top, it felt like staring off the edge of the world, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why anyone thought this was fun.
By CableGuy2 years ago in Fiction
The Giver
Jennifer heard a loud thud on the roof, and sprang out of bed. Her pink pajamas fluttered as she ran down the hall of her house.
By Clay Robbins2 years ago in Fiction
The Bus on the Island. Content Warning.
“We came here because Naomi is clearly not doing well and we need to do something about it,” Trevor, Naomi’s oldest brother, said to the therapist who had been working with Naomi for a year.
By Naomi McDonald 2 years ago in Fiction
Money Well Spent
Only in our dreams are we free. The rest of the time, we need wages. I read that somewhere, once upon a time. The blank walls stared at me as I contemplated the equally blank ceiling, my hands behind my head. Somewhere, a cell door slammed.
By Laura Pruett2 years ago in Fiction
Ol' Silas
Silas shuts the door with a click. A slice of the child running away from his house caught for a moment in the doorframe. His hook gleams at him from where it's hanging with his overcoat and waterproofs. Leaning on his stick, he peers past the dying houseplant on the sill. Almost dark, the back of that cheap polyester costume only just visible. See how they run. This one is carefree, now. All trace of fear gone. Excited to get back and show off the generous hall in that tacky orange bucket. Brag about the encounter with scary ole Silas Crowley. Stumping along the hallway, Silas reflects that that was the main thing that kept it alive: it would tell its friends. Let this one go, and more would surely follow. Silas tipped away his cold cocoa, and washed out the mug. He didn't like people. Didn't care to be liked, either. The rumours about his wife and daughter had flown around freely for years. It'd never impacted him after the police lost interest. Except... He'd had to behave. No more experiments. Give them no more reason for suspicion. Subsisting on scraps of fear from kids like that one, creeping up to his door on a dare. Already he could feel the aches in his joints easing. Walking a little straighter, he entered the dining room, and kissed his dear wife with a flourish, such as he hadn't for decades. Her desiccated skin hung off her bones.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction