Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Salvations' End
The smell of the salty air, the sounds of waves crashing, and the warmth of the sun; that is where Pietro’s mind drifted. . His little girl Evangeline and his darling wife Sarah running back and forth in tandem with the waves. Memories of watching the sunset disappear and watching the night sky rise before returning home. A vision of a time that seemed to have occurred a lifetime ago. Looking around now all he saw was the dark clouds that never gave way to that beautiful radiant light. He shifted in his position and grimaced at the pain from his wound. He hated that incessant howling that, at first, had curdled his blood, however now just annoyed him. He glanced around in the distance and saw them moving back and forth ever so quickly and cautiously. There was no need for them to be worried as he hurled his gun into the pile of other useless wooden pieces, but they didn’t know that. He questioned all the choices he had made that had led him to this moment. To die in this dingy old barn. He sighed deeply, watching the chill materialize his breath, and began to let his mind fade.
Luis Omar PadillaPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Woman From My Dreams
Darkness asserted itself like a solid force gently pressing me into my bed. Autumn’s cool breath drifted in through the open window. Curtains danced somewhere near the window, filling the darkness with the whispering of their skirts. My eyelids grew heavier and slower with each blink. Nearby, the purring of my feline companion washed over my consciousness like a little living motor. There was a moment in which a waking thought conjured an important memory; then the waking thoughts were no more.
Michael SeanPublished 3 years ago in FictionMischief at the Barn
Thomas pulls up to the old barn just outside of town. It had been old when he and his peers were young, and 20 years of exposure to the elements without upkeep has only degraded it more - hardly any of the paint that once adorned it remains. He wasn’t at all surprised when Jim and Ross pitched it as the meetup for their class reunion; they all have a history with it. He’s passed several familiar vehicles parked in the nearby empty field to reach the barn - he’ll park in the field after they unload his truck. He can hear a din of voices through his open window.
Megan Baker (Left Vocal in 2023)Published 3 years ago in FictionBeware Those Below
The howling wind was nothing compared to the cries of her mother. The thunder couldn’t rival the sound of her father’s fists.
Rebecca RahmePublished 3 years ago in FictionIncoming, Chapter One
Less than an hour had elapsed for Joe and Gala since receiving the horrendous news that they were already parents-to-be of Harbin, The Foretold One, whose adult life would be distinguished by a universe-wide reign of terror. Now amidst the grotesque greenery of The Back Garden, where living fungi of monstrous size snared whole planets in their twining grip, the first of The Four Heroes and the first of the Next Four braced for battle as that same son barrelled down upon them. Harbin, a grown man on his second time-travelling trip to the present day, was a gaunt blur of twilight wrapped in a ragged cloak as he alighted on the tangled stalks and stems that made up the flooring where his parents stood. Those two at once bore the piercing white light from Gala’s cutlass and the fiery blaze of Joe’s fists directly to the heart of Harbin’s preternatural dusk, as the family reunion made its less-than-promising start.
Doc SherwoodPublished 3 years ago in FictionChance, Fate & Chocolate Cake
London was everything Sophie dreamt it would be. After a long day of sightseeing, she was exhausted yet satisfied. She had one last stop on her tour before she could finally retire to her hotel room for the night. Although she was seriously considering skipping the last stop and sneaking away to her luxurious hotel bed early, she knew she'd regret it tomorrow.
Jessie WaddellPublished 3 years ago in FictionElegy of a Farmer's Daughter
Horse had been on the farm the longest, and so had known the Farmer’s daughter, little Fern, the best of all the animals. In all his years on the farm, he had seen many cows, chickens, and pigs come and go, gone to slaughter when they stopped producing milk, eggs, or young. And as soon as little Fern was old enough to know what that meant, as the only one around to advocate on their behalf, she had protested to her father not to kill the “cute hens” or “sweet piggies.” And she always did so, despite the loud crashes and weeping the animals would inevitably hear later that night after the axe was put away.
Sarah SheaPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe End of the Road
“What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.”
Barb DukemanPublished 3 years ago in FictionA Cherished Classic
The other day, I really couldn’t sleep… and I fell on this bedtime story. I guess it has a special meaning for me, I mean it inspires my imagination to the point that I actually feel it. It’s as if, I am being transported by it in real time.
Alice K.S.Published 3 years ago in FictionHome
“You know, we used to use the word ‘Earth’ to mean ‘ground’ or ‘dirt’,” James Macready said conversationally over the inter-helmet comm. “Synonymous with ‘habitable land’, you know?”
EquinoxNightPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe ABC’s of Cosmic Love
The year is 3030. I’m a resident of what was the USA before we all became one giant global economy—we had to if we wanted to survive. After The Great Fall, there was a melding of human and robot assimilation. Except the AI are not us—I feel like I’m putting on a show portraying my AI personality. It’s a difficult impersonation for me, but not to say I won't do it. What choice do I have? One thought—die. I did that once, before I became part of AI. My family and I have been designed this way through generations of programming.
Jessica CranePublished 3 years ago in FictionPandora's Locket
Tick. Tick. Tick. I have never had a birthday. Birthdays are reserved for those lucky enough to have been born, rather than created.
Tanya HankinsPublished 3 years ago in Fiction