Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Jaws of a Rodent
Fifteen years ago, when the very ground below us became blanketed with the thick, unbreathable smog, the only way we had left to go was up. The few who didn't manage to fall ill spent months attempting to build skyscrapers to salvage all that was left. They turned out to be mostly just skeletons of a sound structure, warped wooden platforms held together with metal beams and wooden planks hundreds of meters above the ground. Despite the distance, the fog is still smothering and grey, though my grandfather insists that it was much worse during his time below. When I was younger I used to pry for information about where the fog came from, but my grandfather would often just look askance and somehow avoid my questions. I still often find myself wondering how my mom could have possibly welcomed a child into a world full of wretched smog and swaying towers, but I'd never say that directly. I'm well aware that my family does all that they can for me, despite the circumstances.
By Devyn Lofthouse5 years ago in Fiction
Epilogue
She doesn’t listen anymore- not that she ever really did. I think, sometimes, she could hear me or sense me and direct the story accordingly. Now, she simply ignores me, pays me no mind or attention. She got what she wanted, after all, she got the satisfaction of typing out a pretty, perfect ending to a tragedy she didn’t have to survive. I think she enjoyed it, honestly. She invented a world and smashed it to pieces with plague and fascist warfare. She invented me, gave me long, black curls that flashed violet in the sunlight. I should be grateful to her that she went out of her way to make me exceptionally beautiful. My creator birthed me to be perfect. Then she took her perfect creation and battered, tortured, and exhausted it. Why breathe something so lovely into existence only to ruin it?
By Laurena Fauie5 years ago in Fiction
Silent Dawn
The blood eclipse was the last thing in my mind today, though I should've feared everything about it. Today also happened to be my twenty first birthday, normally a time of celebration and drunken foolishness. Not for me however, no. My birthday consisted of darkness, the sickness and one birthday gift that would change the entire world.
By KC Enterprise5 years ago in Fiction
A TALE TAIL HEART tale no.2
Freyja couldn’t figure out how she had been caught, but she knew that Bogran must have flipped on her the second her locket started burning inside her chest. It wasn’t just the normal soul-sucking sensation, it felt like her sternum was being ripped inward as the wicked thing took sinew and bone with it. It damned near felt like it would take the earth beneath her feet if she stood still for too long. Worse than that, the one installed in Delphi was starting to send jolts and her little neck was red. She could hardly breathe. Those massive fucking assholes. Big gaping pile-stricken taint pustules… enough.
By CK Henson Hayes5 years ago in Fiction
Recoil
My alarm going off was like a bell swinging back and forth in my head and rattling my brain. Those two hours of sleep were as useful as an umbrella in a hurricane. Since my husband died last year, I haven’t gotten more than four hours of sleep in a day. I finally went to the doctors last week to try to break this cycle, and the doctor started by recommending melatonin and a regular nighttime routine. Clearly, that hasn’t been working too well. I have another appointment today where I will hopefully get something stronger for my insomnia.
By Mikayla Plett5 years ago in Fiction
The inception of the Heart-Shaped Locket USB Drive
Scott left his wife and daughter and moved to New Zealand when Trump was elected in February 2016. Scott had severe PTSD from Iraq, it made him hyper-vigilant and very sensitive to his faith, or lack thereof in the American government. He was a huge doomsday prepper from 2011, he thought the world would end in 2012. He had 37 solar panels on his house, a massive garden, and installed a French drain around his property to harvest rainwater. He had a goat, two mini pigs, 10 chickens, rabbits, guina pigs, and a year supply of bottled water, and rice, and beans.
By Sustainable Scott5 years ago in Fiction
A TALE TAIL HEART
“Move. You,” he barked to the masked man closest to him. “Clear off the table. GO people. NOW” he ordered them as his hands cooked to a deep red under the ultraviolet solar dry-scrub vent. He winced as the denature was painful and everyone scrambled as they had done so many times before but this time was different. This time the patient was an eleven-year-old girl. This was the youngest so far. No one knew what would happen if you did this to a newborn baby, but if you did it to anyone over forty-six, up till now the outcome was usually bad. After thirty-six, the outcome was better bad, but you risked a scrambled mind about half the time and a sociopath the other half. Once someone came out sort of normal.
By CK Henson Hayes5 years ago in Fiction
Filled to the Brim
New Dreamstone City District Entry #1 I am beginning this entry under the north bridge. The water has receded away because of the changing seasons, leaving the underbelly of litter that this city throws off of the bridge. I am on a piece of stone that was once built into a building; 30 years or so it’s been here without needing to be moved.
By Jackson Burt5 years ago in Fiction
The Illustrator
The truck came during the early morning, around 6 am. The sound of the engine outside our bedroom window stirred me awake. I felt my wife roll over, irritated at the disturbance. ‘Isaac, go pick it up. It gets smelly if you leave it out too long.’
By Orlagh Billing 5 years ago in Fiction
Coming Home
It has been almost 50 years since the world crumbled apart into the ruins of society, we find ourselves struggling to survive in today. Ever since the bombs decimated over half of the population of this dying planet, I have come to realize that we are undeniably a virus. The thought of being in control of our own destinies blinded us from the truth and that truth is, we were destined to fail. Instead of coming together and working out our differences, we pointed fingers while making excuses rather than accepting the consequences of our decisions. The crumbling and desolate landscape we scurry around in trying to make it another day is the result of our own demise and hubris.
By Joseph Ruhl5 years ago in Fiction
SARS-CoV-2 Vaccine Researcher Beginning to Get Kind of Tired of Constantly Having to Save the World
Author's note: Dearest Moderators, I am writing this author's not to apologize for my previous submission of this story which came in at <600 words thus not meeting the requirements of at least 600 words for any story to be published in the pages of this long admired and well established icon of the new media business, Vocal.media. I should have read the rules of this legendary enterprise before shelling out the $99 required for a one year membership. Had I done so I would not have made the grave error of submitting a story that did not meet the word count minimum. In retrospect it was ridiculously stupid and short sighted of me to think that anything meaningful or interesting or humorous could be said in <600 words. I mean, what was I thinking? Particularly in this day and age people are known to have very long attention spans and they hate reading things which are short and to the point. They much prefer to slog through dense, long form, serious content that they can spend hours of their plentiful free time perusing at their leisure and reading over and over again. I am just about the dumbest person alive now aren't I? Duh? Oh well, I won't make that mistake again and am proud to present to you the new and improved 600 word + edition of my original humorous satirical article written in the classical fake news format pioneered by the truly legendary humor magazine, The Onion. Of course The Onion has nothing on Vocal.media when it comes to gravitas or reputation but they are still pretty OK, for a bunch of hacks. I am pretty sure the word count of this now exceeds 600 but I am too lazy to plop it into Microsoft Word to check so I will rely on you, the fine moderators at Vocal.media to do that tedious task for me. If only the website itself included a word count function or feature of some sort. I guess that is probably asking for too much for a $99/year subscription to this religious and graphic content free new media publication with stories all of at least 600 words. How's that for expanding upon my ideas and resubmitting? Pretty darn good I'd say.
By Everyday Junglist5 years ago in Fiction
