Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Don't Open the Door. Runner-Up in Instructions Included Challenge.
Wakey, wakey! Congratulations! You're alive! That's more than most people can say right now. That's the good news. Here's the bad news: pulling through them injuries was the easy part. If you're reading this, it prolly means something's happened to me, and I can't take care of you or the other survivors no more.
By Tyler Clark (he/they)2 months ago in Fiction
Wild Love at Christmas Eve
If we grow old together, help me to remember the catch in my voice when I faced this old world anew one Christmas Eve ... Aflock in the town's tavern, my head a mix of love and merry. Downing my glass of Moscato, my head spinning with claustrophobia, I ripped away from the endless whir of clutches and kisses. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, I found relief in the welcome outside air.
By Susan L. Marshall2 months ago in Fiction
Our Old Story
She reached for it… But she had one final thing to say first… “Darling, I know that this is probably the absolute worst moment to end things with a speech, but the doctors say that you will not remember this tomorrow, and I have so much that I still want to tell you before I leave. So…let’s start at the very beginning…
By Kendall Defoe 2 months ago in Fiction
Them.
The storm raged wildly outside. With the fast pace of the train, the raindrops almost looked like razor blades slicing through the wind and the trees. It was difficult to see much beyond what was right outside the window. It was hot in the train cab, muggy. I could feel the beads of sweat starting to form around my scalp. I leaned my forehead against the window and let the freezing glass calm down the uncomfortable feeling.
By Leah Suzanne Dewey2 months ago in Fiction
Museum Obscura
I have to be careful. Very, very careful. I should know, I built the darn thing. I was using the small unit today. I’d tried with the big one, personally going back to purchase, but the stubborn ass wouldn’t sell. Didn’t trust me, didn’t trust my motive.
By Meredith Harmon2 months ago in Fiction
The First Person. Winner in The Forgotten Room Challenge.
She enters the room. The door, she knows, has been here - unpainted wooden panels, plain brass knob, no keyhole - between her bedroom and the bathroom every morning and every evening of every day, and yet she cannot remember if she has ever been inside.
By Hannah Moore2 months ago in Fiction
Shut In
It's upstairs at the end of a long dark hall, an undescript door caked in enough dust it blends into the faded wallpaper. The light doesn't quite reach that distant end of the corridor so I rarely venture down that far. Every so often, I'll pause before entering one of the other well-used rooms and glance toward it as if drawn by some long ago memory. But my tired eyes never linger long and the thought passes just as quickly as it started and I go on with my day.
By A. J. Schoenfeld2 months ago in Fiction
A Spark Within
This was written for John and Paul's unofficial challenge :) (Now I know what you may be thinking...I'm not the one that rises in the morning with a big smile plastered to my face and my work is generally darker in nature, BUT, I hate to be told what to do or what I can do, hehe, so I chose to do the uplifting part not the critique. That's all the warning you get.)
By Heather Hubler3 months ago in Fiction
#8 Scrape's Fate...
Squire "Ski" Reynolds still couldn't believe his eyes. His cellphone news feed just revealed that Scrape Norwood had been gunned down by a SWAT team member and subsequently lost his left leg during a shootout with police yesterday morning while attempting to rob Ganola Bank, the only Black-owned bank in the State of Washington, at gunpoint. Two members of Scrape's crew had also participated in the foiled heist.
By Tiffany Gordon2 months ago in Fiction
To Dust. Content Warning.
Cassus stood before the locked and barred tomb. Twenty years before, he laid its inhabitants to rest. It was as tombs made by families of modest wealth tended to be: four columns supporting an angled roof festooned with griffins, unicorns, and humble men seeking their eternal forgiveness from the Crescent Sun. The bards would pack the tavern with that irony. Cassus laughed to himself and the effort turned to a rasping cough that made his knees buckle. He knew he’d receive no such forgiveness when they laid him to rest.
By Matthew J. Fromm2 months ago in Fiction
Don't Tell Him. Content Warning.
“I took my gun and vanished...” - The Partisan, as sung by Leonard Cohen -0- Dear mom, I’m sorry that you have to hear about my going in any way but from my own lips. If I had waited to tell you, if I had waited until you awoke, you might have talked me out of it. Talked some sense into my damned fool head, made me stay at home. Stay where I would be warm and safe and fed.
By Alexander McEvoy2 months ago in Fiction
