Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Gossamer
"Murray! Wake up!" He loved that period between waking and dreaming. To him, it was like entering another dimension; more of a dreamscape than dreaming itself. There was an otherness to it that he wanted to grasp and yet deeply respected the fact that it could never be his totally. This is what gossamer was; flighty and light, a wisp of smokiness, an idea suggested but not fully revealed, a slit in cloth, a copse in the wood.
Rachel DeemingPublished 8 days ago in FictionA CLOSE ENCOUNTER
Stars twinkled brightly in a moonless sky, reflecting in the calm waters of Lake George in the Adirondack mountains of upstate New York. It was a warm August night, as we laid back in the boat, marveling at the magnificent Milky Way. Dark skies made the stars more brilliant at this time of year, especially during a new moon, causing wonder and enchantment. We never tired of stargazing while floating on water, a truly immersive experience.
Jon H. DavisPublished 8 days ago in FictionBlossom
A dead past does not put a halt to a new future. A year later, Kaffy, a highly intelligent, creative, bookish, and preppy Nigerian-Canadian 15-year-old girl was released from juvenile prison. She was arrested and charged with petty theft and assault, and was sentenced to a year in prison. Her sentence was supposed to be 6 months for stealing a lollipop, a chocolate bar, a pack of playing cards, and a bag of Cheeto's cheesies from 7-Eleven, but she received another 6 months for kicking, punching, and hitting another female inmate across the face during an altercation in the canteen.
Talia DevoraPublished 10 days ago in FictionThe Dangling Bead
My life is splashing before my eyes, as I precariously suspend and prepare for the end, the consumption of my Self and identity. I know that gravity will be the victor in this struggle. Like a pendant, slipping from the chain, the tension has caught me in this moment, bestowing one last gift of reflection. I cling desperately, questioning my purpose. Searching for comfort. And I remember…
Leslie StavenPublished 5 days ago in FictionClinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
Marti MaleyPublished 9 days ago in FictionA Lady in Red
Beware! Beware! Heed my tale! Don’t let the same fate befall you as those who fell before you. Don’t make the same mistake as those who have fallen for her. Beware! Beware!
Mother CombsPublished 9 days ago in FictionThe Fish Song
The room didn’t smell like disinfectants. Its fragrance seemed light and not overbearing. A soft mixture of lavender and mint permeated the space. No beeping machines or any tubes hooked up to four-year-old Kaleeka. Her cacao skin seemed to glow from the light over her head. The family, save for one and the doctors and nurses exited the room like a trail of saints showing their last vestiges of regard.
Skyler SaundersPublished 7 days ago in FictionHow the Harvest Mouse Came to Suisun Bay
A long, long time ago there was a family of harvest mice. Mice are common, but these were unique – born to those who had lived in the salty, marshy bay for many generations, these mice ate and drank from the sea as well as the land and rivers. For generations, there were only the southern families, scattered along the marshes of Corte Madera and in the San Francisco Bay (U.S. Fish & Wildlife, 2013). One family, however, would undergo strife and conflict before reaching a whole new world. What became of them after is another tale entirely – but this is how their story begins.
Taylor InmanPublished 9 days ago in FictionJust One Minute
Alice could feel her heart beating out of her chest. She tried to calm herself as she flexed her fingers and reached for her glass, bringing it to her lips and taking a sip. As the cooling liquid pooled beneath her tongue, her eyes met with his.
Amber BristowPublished 8 days ago in FictionJust Sixty Seconds
Oliver sat at a cold, grey steel-covered table. He knew he was next. The longer he sat here, the more confident he knew he wouldn’t make it. His hands were tied to the chair he was sitting on, pushed up against the steel table. A small camera in the corner of the ceiling with a tiny red flashing light was the only thing he was focused on. He felt sick to the stomach. He knew he didn’t have long.
Joshua MaggsPublished 11 days ago in FictionFaedaze
Daisy leaned back against the wall of the window bench, the dress she was embroidering on falling to her lap, all but forgotten. Her gaze rested on the trees just beyond the edge of her garden, watching with dreamlike expression on her face, waiting for something others doubted would ever come.
Kelsey ClareyPublished 11 days ago in FictionDisarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
James U. RizziPublished 10 days ago in Fiction