Top Stories
New stories you'll love, handpicked for you by our team and updated daily.
Negative Space Challenge Winners
For Negative Space , we asked writers to explore how much can be said through what's left out. Our favorite entries found clever ways to make those silences, gaps, and unanswered questions feel just as important as the words themselves.
By Vocal Curation Team14 days ago in Resources
All the Broken Thingsđź’ś . Top Story - October 2026. Content Warning.
Personal Disclaimer: This poem is to spread awareness for all women and men who are affected by it. It's not a direct reflection of my relationship with my husband, but there's something hinting at that in this poem as well, so enjoy! Also, If anyone you know is being abused, suspected of being abused, or are a victim yourself, there is help available. Local shelters and organizations are a good way to start. However, if more in-depth help is needed, call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233. And remember, love shouldn't hurt. đź’śđź’śđź’ś
By Rain Dayze18 days ago in Poets
Give Warning. Top Story - October 2026.
Turning on the radio, you were trying to listen to something to pass the time as you drove home. Trying to not fall asleep as you did so. It had been around eighteen or so hours since you’d last slept. Or at least you think it’s been that long since you’ve had a proper eight or seven hours of sleep. Time was really starting to slip away from you on this dark stretch of highway.
By Raphael Fontenelle15 days ago in Horror
Your first 24 hours on my rock by the sea . Top Story - October 2026.
Hey you! Yes, YOU! This rock you see in the photo before you? It belongs to ME! My family and I discovered it while exploring an untamed, island wilderness east of New York City. The Atlantic island we traversed was largely unpeopled (or at least unsettled by Spinellis).
By Sam Spinelli18 days ago in Fiction
Legacy. Top Story - October 2026.
The dead never stay dead. Lost loved ones live on through the memories, lessons, and messages they left behind. They persist through the stories we tell, the pictures we took, and the family they created. That is their bequeathal to humankind. That is their legacy.
By Nathan Sanders17 days ago in Horror
Dial-a-Soulmate. Top Story - October 2026.
Ingrid checked her phone again, no reception. The cabin was exactly like she remembered it, no wifi and no cable. Of course that was one of the reasons she was here, to get away from it all. She made herself some tea and went to look for a book to read.
By Amos Glade16 days ago in Horror
10 Obscure 90s Alternative Rock Tracks With an Emo Tinge. Top Story - October 2026.
While grunge went mainstream in the 90s, hundreds of pop-punk, post-hardcore and early-emo bands were bubbling under the radar, waiting for their genre to have its turn in the spotlight. Unfortunately, many of these bands dissolved before the culture shifted in the mid-2000s. We can't go back in time and change the course of history, but we can enjoy their albums today--and I think it's time for the Internet to appreciate what these groups contributed to the music world.
By Kaitlin Shanks17 days ago in Beat
The End of The Row. Top Story - October 2026.
It’s bright in this room, almost dazzlingly so. That cold, astringent bright that throbs behind your eye balls and puckers your brow. Clinical bright. Bright enough to make the tears begin to simmer, to make you pause, close your eyes against the light, repeat the words you’ve been saying to yourself since last night, last week, last month, “it’ll be over before you know it, you won’t feel a thing”. Except it turns out it wasn’t pain you were worried about, not really, not the physical kind, not the burn or the sting or the tearing kind. It was this other kind, the kind you’re feeling now, the kind where your heart is hammering against the inside of your sternum, a rhythm so quick and a beat so fast you don’t know if you’ll make it, hammering so you can hear it fill up your skull with its din, hammering so you don’t know if your ribs might crack and your heart might burst into bloody remnants inside your chest. This kind, where you can feel the breath coming fast, in and out, in and out, cold and raw in the passages of your nose, sound like bellows huffing as your nostrils flare and push and your head begins to spin and you wonder whether a drop of air is making it to your lungs, or if you might pass out through lack of it. The kind where your vision narrows and you can see in razor sharpness the line where the linoleum meets the painted brick, wipe clean floors and wipe clean walls, and the wipe clean window onto black nothing, and then the thought, some part of your mind still curious in all the chaos, “I wonder if they thought green would be a calming colour.”
By Hannah Moore18 days ago in Fiction
Worth. Top Story - October 2026.
How will I know my worth if no one is here to assess me? To assign value? To rate me somewhere between not enough and too much? I know I am pretty. I know I am funny, that I can make a home out of wishes and violet paint. I am clever and strange in ways I’m fond of. Still, I want to be chosen. Not like a dress pulled from a clearance rack, or the last unbruised apple at the market. I want the kind of choosing that happens after you’ve learned when I say rest in peace I mean sleep well. After you have heard me turn the details of ordinary Tuesdays into epic tales. I want you to hear my laugh from another room and smile before you see me. I want you to know my oddities the way people drive the streets of their hometowns: without looking, without thinking, by heart. I want you to find value in all the little things I love about myself and the things I don’t. Not with a number. Not with a ranking. Not by comparing me to someone less strange, someone more hinged. I want you to look at me with certainty and know.
By Tina D. Lopez21 days ago in Poets
Party. Top Story - October 2026.
Standing in this cavernous room, dwarfed by the vaulted ceilings and feeling as small as the coconut shrimp, you realize you've no business throwing a party in honour of yourself. The vast grey linoleum floor makes your sparkly flats look like tiny doll shoes. And you feel like a little girl in a frilly dress, waiting for your friends to come through the door.
By Marie Wilson20 days ago in Fiction
