Top Stories
New stories you'll love, handpicked for you by our team and updated daily.
Autumn Findings. Top Story - October 2026.
Come with me, through the trees as they take their last breath of Fall. Together, just you and me, will witness the glory of enzymes slipping from leaf to storage to root through soil as Earth takes care of hibernation. We will sit upon a damp log, one that is sturdy and sprouting pale mushrooms and hardened sap and take in the darkening sky, ever gray and expansive. We will point out the chipmunks and mimic their fattened cheeks as we act brave to every random rustle of the crackling brown leaves. When the coming chill travels down your spine, as electric as the tree's final crack, I will throw my jacket over you and though all I wish to do is hold you close, I will walk you home instead. The fallen ginkgo berries pop, and the sudden swell of bitter smell unleashed in yellow jelly splat so crudely that you laugh so sweetly and warm our autumn bodies. I let your gloved hand go, once we make it back to town but I keep you in my sight as the orange glow of Halloween lights embrace you on my behalf.
By Kera Hollow18 days ago in Poets
Whatcha' Doin?. Top Story - October 2026.
Pardon me, but what exactly are you doing here? You keep invading this space, regardless of the fact that you're clearly not naturally equipped for it. Biologically, that is. Your long, narrow body. Those long, mutated appendages, evolved to facilitate grasping on one end and locomotion on the other. To be honest, your locomotion in your own environment isn't exactly elegant.
By Dana Crandell18 days ago in Fiction
October Is Strange, But Strange Is Where I Belong. Top Story - October 2026.
I found the road to October behind the abandoned railway station. It wasn't there yesterday. On the first cold morning it appeared between the birches. I followed it downhill, while the crows sang their dirge* for the shedding trees drenched in crimson and amber, still holding secrets of summer. I found myself in a strange place where the breezes sigh and the meadows are yawning. Where purples, pinks and pale oranges tint the skies. "The year is dying"—dead leaves whispered grieving, but for me the world never seemed more pulsing with life than in the slumber of October. Fog settled in the hollows, rain showered my face clean, the path cleared under my feet, as I walked deeper in the pines and stones worn by the years. Mushroom circles marked my way, their tiny caps turned toward me. A bell rang beyond the pines— Wait, there isn't a church nearby! I still made my way 'round the shimmering pond. I walked and walked, crossed a ravine swollen with rain, until I reached the heart of October where I was greeted with cold kisses on my rosy cheeks. I took a seat on a mossy log to rest my legs from the hike when a marginalian rabbit climbed in my lap holding a feuillemorte* crown. I reached out to touch the leaves when the bell rang twice. She looked at me, eyes aglow with warmth and wonder. Before I even knew it— leaves crunched between my fingers, something ancient tingled under my fingertips. Dazzling yet crumbling in my hand, I lifted it and placed it on my head. The wind stopped on the trails, birds changed their flights, November nodded with a sigh on the other side of the ruddy moon, and the bell began again in the distance. That's how I found October behind the abandoned rails where nothing was like yesterday, but I minded not. I never trusted a world that promised to stay the same.
By Imola Tóth18 days ago in Poets
Blameless in a mad world. Honorable Mention in You Are Here Challenge. Top Story - October 2026.
It would have been nice to have had advanced notice that Optix Automation, the company you work for, would be shutting down for two and a half months, effective immediately.
By Lamar Wiggins19 days ago in Fiction
Through The Door. Top Story - October 2026.
Under dusk's light Everything burns Stained a reddish hue The air crisp, Like an apples first bite Are those whispers? Perhaps not. Crackling of the fire Hissing of the wood Just keeping the hearth warm As it should But, a shriek? No, no. Must be the kettle letting its steam. Mother has on evening tea. O child, O child Find ye way home O child, Through the door The autumn meadows -- STOP. I will not go. I have chores Bread to make But this feeling One I cannot shake O child, O child Find ye way home O child Through the door The autumn meadows A sight to explore With an owl's cry To our cottage I turn My feet move, Like a heart that yearns O child, Beyond the orchard With whispering leaves A cobbled path which, The Black Cat leads Just a few steps more I am at the door O child, Welcome home! Witches cackle Ghosts ramble Skeletons shake for a musical gig My eyes deceive? What a place I see! Goblins and ghouls Witches with caramel apples Swirls of maple leaves Lightning bugs in the eaves A place I know But have not seen O child, you have seen In your dreams On a summer's eve Always waiting For the nights That come before Halloween A place with magic Before the frost turns You find yourself in a town One called October
By Analesia Giammusso20 days ago in Poets
Poetry Talk. Top Story - October 2026.
Alison Prine I really don't know who Alison Prine is and gravitated to this poem of hers titled Yellow shortly after I wrote my poem with the same title. I have now idea where this poem has come from, only that I had found it on the internet and filed a screen shot of it.
By Gerry Thibeault20 days ago in BookClub
I Will Hack Through You. Top Story - October 2026. Content Warning.
I wish I could hack you to pieces with a dull knife. Or be satisfied with how easily a sharp one slices through you. I want your blood on a garage floor I will never clean. I want your parents and friends on my side. I want them to know what you did to me, and what you took away. I want them to witness the blank stare my lovers know too well because you put it here. I want to rip your arms off myself, and I want you alive for it. I want your screams to ring painfully through my skull. I want my tears and your blood to mix a disgusting palette on my cheek. I want to swing at your groin with an axe, ungracefully and enthusiastically. I want to forget your face. I want to pop out your eyes with my thumbs. I want to burn all copies of your dissertation. I want to be the virus that eats it on internet servers. I want to bite off your fingers like baby carrots. I want to tear your ears off. I want to leave your mutilated body deserted.
By Ariana GonBon21 days ago in Poets
The Pink Gallery. Honorable Mention in You Are Here Challenge. Top Story - October 2026.
You knew the Livingston Hotel was a place of old, upfront luxury. Black marble floors and pillars decorated its lobby, wrapped around a double-sided hearth, and sneaked their way right up to the front door where everyone could window shop a life they could never have. Its hearth was never without a strong fire in its belly or men circled around its glow.
By Silver Daux20 days ago in Fiction
New Babies, No More Marlboros & Quilts.... Top Story - October 2026.
The following microfiction piece that I wrote entitled "New Babies, No More Marlboros, and Quilts!" was inspired by uber-talented visual artist Annie Lee's fab-tastic painting titled Grandma's Hands .
By Tiffany Gordon19 days ago in Art
The Funhouse. Top Story - October 2026.
Gather round little kiddies! Take a seat, come and park Listen to tales we spread when the forest goes dark Who doesn't adore the spine tingling chills When a spooky old story rolls down from dark hills Huddle in close while the firewood pops Wait for the moment the narrative drops Get ready to shiver I'm gonna scare you with the things that hide among the dark and the goo "Oh, look!" whispered Jimmy and pointed his hand "I see a new friend and a whole wonderland!" For out of the darkness with big hot pink hair steps Sprinkles the Clown from her little red chair "I have popcorn and ice cream and candy so sweet!" She looks like a friend you are happy to meet She giggles and smiles a big porcelain grin She points to her Funhouse and welcomes you in "Oh don't be afraid of the dark!" she calls out with a twirl and a cartwheel She's dancing about "I'm Sprinkles! The happiest girl you will find! I brought yummy treats! The very best kind!" She reaches inside of her shiny gold cup and hands sugar clouds to each kid stepping up They taste like fresh strawberries starlight, and dew! The most magical snack tastes too good to be true "Now who wants to play?" she sings out with a cheer "We'll play tag in the woods! There's nothing to fear!" She pulls out a big box of shiny new toys She jingles and rattles for the girls and the boys She juggles bright balloons up in the air She places a flower in Lucy's blonde hair She tells funny jokes about tigers and mice then hands each little child a cup of sweet flavored ice The children are giggling shouting with glee! "She's the coolest friend that I ever did see!" "She's not as strict as Mom! And she's cooler than Dad! She's the very best friend that we've ever had!" They pull on her fishnets They climb up her knees They beg her to stay here "Oh, pretty please!" Sprinkles smiles and hugs them all back right on cue "Oh, I'll never leave here! I'm sticking like glue!" They march to her Funhouse what a treasure they've found! The luckiest children to ever walk ground! The tent flaps are open the circus lights glow She welcomes them in to her wonderful show They scurry inside feeling cozy and warm Safe from the monsters outside in the storm Sprinkles giggles and tells them to close up their eyes "Get ready for magic! A special surprise!" They all shut their eyes tight one, two, three, and away! They're hoping for games They're all ready to play! That's when it happened Sprinkle's smiling face turned into red fury and consumed the whole place! The laughter was cut by a juicy, wet snap Her Funhouse turned into a shiny steel trap! Jimmy's head rolled away towards the carnival door leaving a trail of blood on the sugar stained floor Sprinkle's sweet little giggles turned raspy and low And she locked up the doors to her one-woman show She ripped off their legs and she ripped off their arms She tore out their eyes and replaced them with charms A horrific bloodbath! A screaming red wave! No corner to run to No soul left to save! Her fangs sank right into their tasty young skin That's the price you must pay when you choose to come in She drags weeping children away in the night and she eats them all up in one single bite With screams of betrayal and little scraped knees They vanished forever straight into the trees Now the Funhouse is quiet the children are dead and the sweet cotton candy is dripping with blood So, if you see a clown and she beckons you near Remember the sweetest of smiles might be something to fear
By Sara Wilson21 days ago in Poets
