Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
- Runner-Up in Whispering Woods Challenge
The Legend of Ardanor
The trees are talking. At least that's what it sounded like to Rin, he could hear the birds tweeting, and the rustling of leaves replying. He imagined deep and long conversations happening between all the creatures of the forest and the trees of old.
Liam StormPublished 16 days ago in Fiction The Goblin
I wake up and he's there. He dogs my steps all day, like an especially loyal... well... dog. Except I like dogs, and he's loathsome.
L.C. SchäferPublished 17 days ago in FictionThe Culling
I was fourteen when the culling occurred. Old enough to vaguely remember, young enough not to fully understand but smart enough to know it was wrong. Perhaps necessary but wrong all the same.
Ghosted
Her house was once a rustic retreat: Grammy’s ancient Afghan draped over the cracked, leather chair next to the wood burning fireplace. Sun-faded yellow gingham curtains in the kitchen danced in the afternoon breeze. She kept the windows open year-round, demanding to breathe in only fresh air. I spent many afternoons curled up with Aunt Bette, watching raunchy movies and drinking good tequila. That was her poison. She hasn’t been gone six months, but I still feel her in the weathered boards of the sagging front porch. I sit on the rough-hewn stairs, avoiding the papaya-colored porch swing. Can’t sit there. It’s not meant for one. Without a hint of a breeze, the swing slowly comes to life.
Cathy SchieffelinPublished 16 days ago in Fiction- Runner-Up in Whispering Woods Challenge
Ruby's Tree
You are close now. Very close. The Great Tree spoke inside his mind. Thank you Great Tree. Master Jigmond brought his hands together in focus, slowing the hollow wooden sphere that carried him down the trunk of the Great Maple, a mountainous tree that grew several hundred miles northeast from the center of the forest. Reaching out with his mind, he merged with the tree's consciousness, allowing it to fill him, pointing the way forward. Toward the runaway child.
Michael J. WinePublished 16 days ago in Fiction The Forest of Lost Knowledge
Tomorrow marks eight hundred years since the great Celestine Library vanished. Einar rested his pen on blank pages. Some scribe he’d turned out to be. They were a week into their journey and not once had he written about their travels or findings. Not that there was much to report on that had not been recorded a thousand times over.
M. A. MehanPublished 18 days ago in FictionStacked Up Reasons
Somehow she kept finding excuses not to leave. She excavated them from her underwear drawer, blew dust bunnies off them from underneath the bed. She found them at the bottom of her tea mugs, even borrowing the maintenance mans’ ladder to reach the forbidden depths of the highest kitchen shelves.
Ariana GonBonPublished 18 days ago in FictionTimber
"To the left," the wizened Oak hissed, its brow of cloven bark furrowed above the deep brown knots of its eyes. "The left, I said!"
James LeekPublished 16 days ago in FictionThe Forest of Cigam ( I )
Dusk was settling upon the sleepy town of More Bay, that sat on the outskirts of the Enchanted Forest of Cigam. Which began to awaken with activity. Firefly-like lights bobbed and weaved through the underbrush, some ascended tree trunks until they disappeared beneath the foliage.
Donna Fox (HKB)Published 29 days ago in FictionThe Guardians
“Where are they?” “They swore to protect us!” “Who even saw them last?” Wind carried the chatter from tree to tree as the Great Everlasting Council gathered to discuss the latest round of forest fires. Even some of the local wildlife had dropped in to listen to the grand pines converse.
Stephanie HoogstadPublished 17 days ago in FictionFriend of the Family
When people say that someone is a family friend, it usually extends to an entire family being friends with another. In small towns where the average-tasting barista coffee is served with a side of gossip, and the elderly eye everyone with a certain disdain, the true meaning of this phrase isn’t yet lost.
Eloise RobertsonPublished 18 days ago in FictionStarving
Without a doubt, Isabella had an eye for beauty. In the early morning frost, she would set out to walk with Dilly through the thicket behind her grandfather's half standing barn. Dilly scouted for critters in the woods while she carefully etched the ice laden branches dangling from the naked birch and maple trees. Her breath formed a haze around her pale, young, yet serious, face. Dilly leapt abruptly out of the dense wood with wet, forthright paws then pounced jovially upon her drawing. With his own signature upon her pallet, color rose in her cheeks with fury as she scolded the cowering hound; he fell by her feet like a pouty child. Being an easy, forgiving soul, she scratched the back of his neck. "It's alright boy, silly pup."