Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you'll love, handpicked by our team.
No Man's Land. Top Story - October 2026.
You will enter no man's land. A siren call from a foreign nation will beckon to you. But you will fear it. Neptunian escapism will try to comfort you, all to no avail. "I'm scared about what will happen to me after you die," you will tell your friend.
By ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR28 days ago in Fiction
The Whole World is Watching. Top Story - October 2026.
There you are. Yes, you with your Converse that never go out of style. Your hair that falls like a wedding veil you never got to wear around your face, shielding innocence that never existed. The blue light penetrates your glasses, as if your eyes are revealing a relationship with modern technology that should remain private. You sit, listening to the wheezing sounds your dad makes. A medically induced coma is what the doctor called it when he explained the situation to you, along with the expensive details of the procedures he would need to save his life.
By L.M. Marlin29 days ago in Fiction
A Dyad of Dunces. Top Story - October 2026.
It had been six days since two kingdoms fell around them. The Lady and the Brute could only listen from their cell within the castle walls as opposing armies ripped each other to pieces. The invasion came swiftly, whereas the moans of the dying lasted far too long after the battle was finished.
By John Dodge28 days ago in Fiction
The Lotto Ticket. Top Story - September 2026.
Arthur sat with a €4 cup of coffee before him and approximately a quarter billion euros in his pocket. The lotto total the previous night amounted to €260,936,087.86, but rounding down to the nearest fraction proved less threatening. Arthur amused himself with quick calculations in his head; he would be able to buy fifty-million cups of the same just okay dark-oak coloured coffee that now looked up at him, reflecting his own pallid face back at him on its shiny roasted surface. Even blacked, the thinning short hair of strawberry-blond, making Arthur look his thirty-eight years, and then some, his bright cyan eyes which fought against his drooping, black bags, and the lines carving deep ridges across his high forehead were all unmistakable. It wasn’t a great cup of coffee, Arthur thought.
By Conor Matthews29 days ago in Fiction
The Girl in Car Seven. Top Story - September 2026.
It is a normal day, unfortunately. The platform is crowded with weary souls walking fast, hoping to find marginally less full cars farther down. The regional train is deep within the poorly maintained station. The yellow paint on the metal at the edge of the platform is patchy from so many tired souls walking over its surface. The train’s crew members stand in stiff blue shirts and black pants, each an echo of the next a few cars away.
By Leigh Victoria Phan, MS, MFAabout a month ago in Fiction
Epiphany. Top Story - September 2026.
The first snow was late. It fell on the fire-watchers at the Hasbaughs’ annual Epiphany tree burning. Melting flakes hissed on the Christmas trees flaming in the stone-edged pit beside the house at the top of the lawn. Neighbors had strapped the season's desiccated totems to the tops of their cars. And brought them for a final salute to another Christmas past.
By Pitt Griffinabout a month ago in Fiction
Black Blizzard. Top Story - September 2026.
The old woman found her neighbor behind his barn, where he'd shoveled dirty snow off the two graves. ELIZA DILTS WHITAKER August 1910- December 1932 INFANT SON December 19 Resting in hope of a glorious resurrection
By Lightning Bolt ⚡about a month ago in Fiction
The Easter Rarebit. Honorable Mention in Out of Season Challenge. Top Story - September 2026.
For some context, watch this: The first thing to note was the temperature. For a rabbit, this was a strange sensation. With all of his fur and energy, he should be just fine with this type of weather. But there was the bigger problem of knowing too much about what time of year it should be.
By Kendall Defoe about a month ago in Fiction
the gift. Top Story - September 2026.
The third one arrived on the summer solstice, cocooned in shades of evergreen and holly. The scent of pine clung to its crisp folds with ink the shade of ripened cranberries sprawled across the muted expanse spelling 'Mrs. Aribella Niccoli' in swirling loops of elegant script. Her hands shook as she traced the familiar writing.
By Heather Hublerabout a month ago in Fiction
