Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Fiction.

"Tell me a story, please?"
I didn’t know what it was. All I knew was that something shook the earth so hard, I couldn’t imagine it not reaching every corner of the planet.
By Nikko Savoy5 years ago in Fiction
Freeing Azria
7 years ago the world broke out into the biggest, most violent, war the world had ever known. Several nuclear weapons were launched and weaponized contagions were released. Pockets of survivors scattered the land but most of the population was dead or dying. Those left alive had to raid and pillage. Grocery stores and gas stations and restaurants were favorite targets. Some survivors resorted to raiding other groups.
By Billy Rose5 years ago in Fiction
Ke Mea o Pule Aku
Of dust she knows nothing. Lehua balks in the face of faith. Her conversations with God go something like this: Blessed be the Father, the Son, and the Holy Unknown
By nicole sakai-aviles5 years ago in Fiction
Please, My Son Will Be Home Soon. He Can Explain.
The door to the woman’s home was on the ground, the hinges still clinging to the doorframe by splinters. She was on her knees beside the couch, wailing as if Katie and Chris were going to kill her. She clutched her hands together and begged in her language. Or maybe she was praying. She kept bowing her head like she was trying not to look at them. Katie hated people like this. People who would try to get pity when they broke the rules. People who would spend all their time and money getting over here, but wouldn’t put in the basic effort to learn the laws or language. They wouldn’t even do the bare necessities to communicate.
By Blake Smith5 years ago in Fiction
Telescan 12
Margaret is sitting still like wax figure. Her face is numb and emotionless, like in a deep sleep, just with her eyes open.
By Katya Volchkova5 years ago in Fiction
A Toy’s Story
It was at a toy store when I met my “sister” for the first time. She walked through the doors of the shop with her younger siblings in tow. If my memory serves me right, she couldn’t be more than 10 years old at that time, while her siblings couldn’t be more than 5. From the corner where I was placed, I could see them walking through the different aisles of the store, and browsing through the items they had to offer. I could also see her younger siblings looking and exclaiming with enthusiasm, like any other children. She on the other hand, was looking with disinterest that didn’t seem to befit her age. I don’t know why but this behavior struck my fancy, so I kept gazing at her. Finally, they reached my spot, and when my eyes met hers, the previous bored expression left her face and was replaced with a vivacious smile. I was extremely enamored by her that my mind went blank and the next thing I knew I was being put back in my place with the promise of, “I’ll come back for you.”
By Arung5 years ago in Fiction
Humanzee
I know, I know, this doesn’t seem fair to you right now. Still, just give me a chance, listen to my story, my past, and maybe you’ll understand why this is happening.
By Shawn Daring5 years ago in Fiction
No Ferry Today (Part 2)
Previously in Part 1 They’d eaten surprisingly well, Margo thought, for people who were worried. And that they were worried was not in doubt.
By Paula Shablo5 years ago in Fiction
Wake TF Up?
It was that little shop off 33rd and Greenmount. I want to say shortly after the second oil outage. The one they thought was going to last forever, I guess. It was easy for those who poised themselves as Intellectuals to be the saviors of the world effectively making obsolete all religions. Only the Ignorant called what the Intellectuals did "punishment".
By Dan-O Vizzini5 years ago in Fiction
The Death of William Hollow
It was the wash of sound that stirred the man awake, the metal ringing of rain hitting the tin roof above him and the slow rumble of thunder that passed through the concrete walls. The smell came second, the comforting scent of vanilla from a cigarette, grounding the man to reality and pulling him out of his dazed stupor. A tight pain throbbed at his knees, a cramp from being in the same position for a few hours.
By Zero Sparrow5 years ago in Fiction
The Last Survivor
Mila ran to the pond facing her house and started to dig in the mud. It was wet, gooey, and had algae growing throughout the watery muck. Yet with her bare hands, no gloves on, she managed to dig a hole about 3 feet down and less than 1 foot across. It had to be here. She was sure of it.
By Carol Eliassen5 years ago in Fiction
Call me Snipet
“Call Me Snips” – David Smith Call me Snips. Everybody does. Well, everybody who’s with me in the workbox that is, the needles, the bobbins, the pins – so many pins – all dear friends. Being from North Queensland, some of my friends call me Snippo, the jokers. My beautiful and creative owner doesn’t call me anything particularly, but she does treat me with love and care. She gets extremely upset if anyone, including her children, start using me to cut bits of cardboard and plastic and food containers. I’m only for cutting the finest fabrics, silks, lace. She does have a habit of putting me down, and then patting the tops of her thighs as she looks around the room muttering, “Now, where did I put them?”
By Ruth Groundwater5 years ago in Fiction