Top Stories
New stories you'll love, handpicked for you by our team and updated daily.
The Story Writes Itself. Top Story - March 2025.
I think it might do some good to discuss structure at this point, or at least the concept of structure, where it pertains to writing. What the story is, where it's going, how it's relevant... and what our motivations are from moment to moment. Let's take a plain, ordinary piece of writing as a stepping-off place:
By Alexis D. Smolenskabout a year ago in BookClub
My Friend The "Cancer Lady". Top Story - March 2025.
That is not a picture of her, but it does remind me of her. She will remain anonymous as she does not want to be 'killed' by the pharmaceutical industry. She treats people with cancer in her home/office daily. She was a teacher once and continues to be a teacher.
By Denise E Lindquistabout a year ago in Humans
A coffee nightmare!. Top Story - March 2025.
"Where, What, Why are my pants running away!" "No, No, I don't want you to follow!" I held the rest of my clothes tightly and squeezed under the bed after I fell to the ground to see if anyone was around. I held my breath in flight and fight mode but couldn't see anyone.
By Parvathi Jabout a year ago in Humor
Death by Moonlight . Top Story - March 2025.
I put down my sandwich, the salty pickles and melty cheese not hitting like usual; each swallow felt hollow. I sighed. Comfort food had lost its comfort. I reluctantly switched on the TV, wishing I could stay in denial. I slid the curtains closed to block the glare.
By Steph Marieabout a year ago in Fiction
Picking the Right Moment to Start. Honorable Mention in Self-Editing Epiphany Challenge. Top Story - March 2025.
You’ve likely heard some of this conventional writing advice before: Start “in media res” A reader can tolerate proportionally as much exposition as the plot has achieved momentum – Stephen King (I think) Begin in the moment and feed the reader details as the plot progresses
By Stephen A. Roddewigabout a year ago in Critique
The Last Set. Top Story - March 2025.
I haven’t seen Rosemarie since high school when we were in a band called Living on the Wind. We performed in small coffee houses on the New England coast. Now, I’m a retired vocalist and a former hippie, volunteering at shelters. I see her standing in the food line with her incomplete wishes.
By Pamela Williamsabout a year ago in Fiction
Architect. Top Story - March 2025.
A mighty bridge, you kept us safe from drowning in thoughts and restricting feelings from the past , by shepherding us between the guard rails that threaten to give way and let us catapult into the troubled waters below. You will not let us go under though , and the undertow is no match for you because your strength comes from He who created the waters.
By Colleen Waltersabout a year ago in Poets
The Bitter Winter of 1944. Top Story - March 2025.
The cold in 1944 was unnatural—it was a cold that breathed. It moved beneath your skin, coiled in your lungs. Private Ben Mercer had stopped feeling his fingers days ago, but each morning he counted them like rosary beads. Ten. Always ten.
By Sandor Szaboabout a year ago in Fiction
Life in paradise. Top Story - March 2025.
I wake up on our anniversary to see those eyes, his beautiful blue eyes. And the way the sun glistens off his ebony skin, it could stop anyone's heart. Still I don't believe he is mine. He has always been too good to me. He gently brushes a strand of hair behind my ear and his touch still sends electricity through each nerve ending. He is fucking incredible. I remember our wedding 20 years ago, I was a true bridezilla. He says I was perfection, but of course the other person is always viewed as perfect in the puppy love phase. Yet, to this day he still calls me perfection. He made me breakfast in bed. A BLT with extra bacon, my favorite. I kiss him and thank him for the thoughtful card, then I reach in the desk and hand him his. The dimples in his smile never get old. We cuddle and make sweet passionate love for the next hour. We would stay in bed all day if we could, but we have to get Zoe up and ready for school. She's in her senior year of highschool. My god how time flies. I will always be grateful I was lucky enough to raise such an amazing girl. I'll miss our cuddles and dance offs forever. Now I get the basic hugs, but that's enough for me. Her sweetheart Jayden Is the one who gets her love these days. He's such a great kid. They were accepted into the same college. I really think they might marry one day. Zoe comes into the kitchen as I'm making her eggs, and what's left of the bacon. Wow, she looks so much like her father. Long black hair, bright blue eyes, and dimples a little smaller than his. I'd almost be jealous of him if she wasn't so beautiful. *** Another 20 years have passed. We aren't the same youthful couple we once were. Yet he still calls me perfection. And I was right, Zoe did marry her sweetheart. Now they have their own little one, Isabelle. Somehow it must have skipped a generation, because she looks so much like myself. I smile as I watch them play. I look over at my husband, and he is already looking at me. We smile and communicate our love non-verbally. He grabs my hand, and places a gentle kiss on it as we- *** I feel like a jolt of electricity just hit me, and I see nothing but white light. I call for my daughter and husband, but I hear another familiar voice. My sisters yelling something. After a moment my vision starts to clear, and when I see my surroundings, reality starts sinking in. “Why did you do that??” I shout at her. It's dangerous to disconnect without finishing the simulation!” I yell. But that's not really why I'm angry with her. “Your husband and Zoe are gone… you can't keep living in a fake future." “Please sis, let me just one more time.”
By Tressa Roseabout a year ago in Fiction
Absurdist Awakening Challenge Winners
Reality took a coffee break—and the ordinary went off the rails. In this challenge, we asked you to transform everyday moments into wild, wonderfully absurd adventures. From misplaced shopping carts leading interdimensional rebellions to elevator rides that spiraled into existential debates with talking pigeons, your stories cracked open the mundane and spilled out pure chaos.
By Vocal Curation Teamabout a year ago in Resources
Life, Death and Onions. Top Story - March 2025.
The familiar blend of Victorian and modern architecture shifts my thoughts between past and present. Craning up at the glass tower where my wife lies in pain and uncertainty, I wonder what might come next in this continuing period drama. As I enter, the warm disinfectant air hits my nostrils and I drift back twenty years. My very first day as a hospital Porter …
By Simon Aylwardabout a year ago in Confessions
Party Foul. Top Story - March 2025.
“Who is this person again?” I calmly asked as I adjusted my unruly boxers for the twentieth time. “A friend from college, I told you, a sorority sister. We went to their wedding, remember? The one in Italy?” Of course, how could I forget? Star-crossed lovers from the Midwest opted out of a thirty-minute drive to their local church so they could force three hundred people to buy a 1500-dollar plane ticket, yeah I remember. “And Jason remember, her husband, you and him hit it off?” We in fact did not hit it off. I clocked Jason from a mile away, slick-backed hair, Oakleys hanging from his pastel color shirt. Speaking with him only affirmed my assumptions: trust fund baby with a high seat at his daddy's company table. I was shocked he could even talk with that silver spoon in his mouth.
By James U. Rizziabout a year ago in Humor
