Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Memories
I’d count up the days. It had been some time now and although the memories had lingered, I couldn’t remember the specific day she was taken away. The pamphlet said the promised land would be something to behold. We arrived hand in hand, onlooking the glorious nature of our new landscape. Except I lost her hand as we were separated at the gates. I stood strong, demanding answers, but the shadows in Kevlar had nothing to say to me. They just poked deeply into my kidney, moving me back in line.
By The Passionate Autistic5 years ago in Fiction
Searching for Iris
January 18th, 1937 My name is Saul Randolph. My dear friend, Edgar Trafton, at last has succumbed to the Human Circulatory turovirus -or as it is better known, the “Red Death.” He had come to my residence so that we might take shelter together from this vicious plague, infamous for its tendency to mutate and adapt. Over the last two years the Red Death had managed to rapidly decimate the global population, inspiring riots and panic as the death toll climbed.
By Kevin Gard5 years ago in Fiction
Drifting Dunes
Sand got in my face, and I almost threw it away when I brought my hands up to brush my eyes. It was a small thing--little, I mean; insignificant and little and adrift amidst the massive dunes that had piled up against the glass of the city buildings. But I had kept it, and as my hands came up, I clutched them tighter to keep it in my grasp--too tight, and the metal's edges cut against my palm. Wincing, I opened my eyes again against the wind, and opened my hand to look at it again.
By Justin von Bosau5 years ago in Fiction
Two Guys Walk Into a Bar...
Looking around, it was more or less what I had imagined – a cozy, dimly lit, undeniably chic, underground affair that owed much of its appeal to its incidental borrowing of 1920s speakeasy aesthetics. Though its ethos was founded on anything but the historical marshes of American culture. The Lobo was prided on a pedigree; passionately and purposefully Cuban.
By Brandon Lever5 years ago in Fiction
Eve Alone
Eve looked down at the silver locket in her hand. It was shaped like a heart, two curves at the top leading down to a point. She hadn’t looked inside for years, and she didn’t now, instead letting it slip from her fingers to fall onto her chest. Carefully, she turned to look out the window sill, doing her best to keep as much of her head out of sight from anyone who might be scouting out her little home.
By Bradley Freeman5 years ago in Fiction
From the Ashes
“I still believe in love,” The face shield of my gas mask was covered in scratches, rendered almost useless from the ash, when I found that abandoned convenience store. The thin man had been inside, hacking whatever dry phlegm he could clear from his lungs into a “Let It Burn” t-shirt he seemed to have found in the store.
By Nancy Gwillym5 years ago in Fiction
Tarnished By Sin
My name is Diavol. I am a smoke devil, which is a caste of daemon that resides in the house of Lust within Pandemonium, or, as humans knew it better, Hell. Following the fall of man from the home he once called Earth, I have been tasked to document our glorious victory over this world. Frankly, I love this kind of work, being an amateur archaeologist of all things. We would have documented it at the time, but we daemons were busy laying waste to the world, now that man had wilfully allowed us passage to it.
By Clive Ewers5 years ago in Fiction
