Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Lucinda's New Life
Lucinda stepped off the elevator into the parking garage. Her head was still spinning. She wasn’t accustomed to decisions, much less making them under pressure. After taking the envelope, Mr. Stamps had just disappeared. She’d walked out of the conference room into the office, but it was empty, not so much as a sheet of paper on a desk or a sign on the wall.
By L. Lane Bailey5 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap 7 - Pt 2 (AND THEN TWO HOURS THERE BEFORE...) Artie stepped outside, walking to the small pen on the other side of the house where he’d tied the horse up for the night. He reached into his pocket and took out the apple he picked up off the counter in the cluttered kitchen on his way out. Offering it to the horse and stroking its neck gently, he thought about what happened earlier.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
The Embalmer's Husband
With the passing of her husband, it was no surprise to anyone that Rita withdrew from public life and the glare of the spotlight into which Estan’s job had so often dragged her. Preferring always the intimate company of her husband in their cottage, it was testament to conjugal devotion that she was invariably found on his arm at any and all social functions he was called on to attend. A loyal wife from the instant she uttered her vows, Rita’s devotion had been repaid by Estan’s unquestioning acceptance of her pastimes, which some might have said bordered on the macabre and were certainly well ensconced in the realms of the unusual.
By Jodie Adam5 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap 7 - Pt 1 (But then two hours there before...) Artie woke up before the dawn. His muscles ached from the climb up the wall last night, but he fell to the floor and did forty quick push-ups regardless. He wasn’t getting any younger, he told himself as soon as he finished. Still, it had been an exhilarating climb, even if he felt as if he’d been beaten with a cricket bat. He remembered how the first time he’d tried climbing he nearly fell; since then, he carried a rope in case he ran into any obstacles. So far, that only happened the one time, in London; and he’d broken a finger that time.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
The Debt Must Be Paid in Full
My chest tightened; it was squeezing my heart to a standstill. Every muscle in my body seized. I held my chin high, and looked serene, just as my mother would have. My steely hair up in a bun on top of my head, just like she wore hers. I look like her from the iridescent scales that run down my midnight colored shoulders and thighs to my fingers, overly long for a human with fingertips more talon than fingernail. Still in moments like these—a very human cold sweat rolls down my back. My breaths are short and shallow enough to remind me that I am not a fierce, powerful half dragon who commands fear and respect. I’m just a lone hatchling of a meager 13 years. For three seasons I’ve been running my family’s inn—the exact number of seasons that have passed since my father died of grief.
By Krystena Lee5 years ago in Fiction
7 Days
The transformation is complete. I take a gasping breath. Who am I this time? I quickly look around. I’m in a kitchen. People around me are working at the many counters, some mixing dough, others putting finishing touches on creations. I look down. I’m wearing an apron and my male hands are covered in flour. In front of me is some sugar cookie dough rolled out. It’s a bakery. I reason that it may be easier to pretend I know what I’m doing than if this had been a full restaurant kitchen, with many recipes to learn on the fly. I realize baking can be a sophisticated and delicate craft, but hopefully I’m not expected to be at that level. I remember being a teenaged girl about 40 weeks ago, give or take. I was watching my grandmother make cookies. I take the cookie cutter and start pressing it in the dough, trying keep the circles close to have less dough to reroll. Just when I’m feeling proud of myself for jumping right into the situation, a woman walks up behind me and yells, “Walters, pick up the pace! You should have had two batches in the oven by now. Either finish or I’ll hire the next homeless person who comes through the door begging for a handout.” She’s intense, with her hair pulled back severely in a bun, arms behind her back like a drill sergeant. I’m thankful that customers are not privy to this rant.
By Julie Lacksonen5 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap 6 - Pt 2 (A PRINCESS IN INTERVENTION...) Sonia followed Nigel around the circular driveway, looking up at the facade that was the front entranceway of Bedloe Manor. The masonry was trimmed with a light cream coloured brickwork, the building itself was brownstone; there were hedgerows and garden-beds running along the length of the foundation, as well as manicured walking paths that would have done any groundskeeper proud.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
bread for the maestra.
i. As far as Nina and Kiki know, the first time I met their Father was at the Bakery. It was easy to assume, as Ryohei wasn’t exactly the most sociable person, and most of the few people he did know were Bakery regulars. In some way, it was the truth.
By A Baptiste5 years ago in Fiction
the mourning before.
It was the idle times like these - with the steady sound of chopping carrots, the quiet gurgling of boiling water, the soft plop of potatoes being dropped in, the smoke curling up and vanishing - that I allow myself to remember the night we first met.
By A Baptiste5 years ago in Fiction
