Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
An Impossible Waterfall
Claire was six when the end began. She was watching a cartoon in which the humanoid animals in the cast learned valuable lessons about things like sharing and obeying your parents when the cartoon cut out and the newsman came on. She didn’t understand much of what the man was saying. He said the video they were showing was of the skies over New York city. Even at six she knew things weren’t as they were supposed to be. The video showed a crackling mass of purple and green lights. The general shape reminded her of the scab she had gotten on her knee after she fell chasing Shane from down the street, except her scab hadn’t had the strange looking tendrils coming off of it. She called for her mother, more out of annoyance with the interruption than out of concern. Her mother was immediately enraptured with the videos on the screen.
By SirCrispix4 years ago in Fiction
Into The Loch's Depths
Frigid water lapped the shore of the Loch as icy beads of rain slid down my neck, seeping through the many layers I wore to ward off the cold. An otherwise peaceful outlook; seeing the waters stretching to the horizon, the rolling green hills blending into the shoreline, the proud silhouette of Urquhart Castle standing guard over the black expanse, or at least, it would have been peaceful, except for the keen wailing being carried on the wind.
By Rachael Williams4 years ago in Fiction
He and She
****** She It was beginning to turn into an obsession. A deep, dark, six foot seven, muscular obsession. He was all I could think about. He was all I wanted. He was who I thought of before going to sleep and he was the first thing I thought of in the morning. I dreamed of him. I desired him.
By Vicky DiMichele4 years ago in Fiction
As the Macaw Flies
I perch confidently, talons gripping the bark. I wonder...why I've never seen another like me, but is that really important? What is important, I sense, is that I have achieved self-actualization. After all, I was brought here from a place called Brazil (so I've overheard) to protect, direct, and in all ways construct the lives of those to whom I've been entrusted.
By Gerard DiLeo4 years ago in Fiction
The Witch, The Curse, and Time Traveler
“We’re going to watch her burn, right?” Brennan knew the man in the green suit was fidgety, eager to watch the trial proceed, but he kept his voice low and calm as he spoke to the huddled tourists. “In a moment, they will bring the accused woman out. While no one from this time can hear or see you, please accord your fellow travelers some respect and speak only when necessary.”
By Sandi Parsons4 years ago in Fiction
Castle Ornithollow
Donna stood among the leaves, counting the gargoyles that lined the castellated walls of the ancient building. When her Uncle Jeremy had begun to describe the castle, with all its oddly-angled turrets and its ancient iron border and its hillock of colonial gravestones and the lake behind it, Donna had become intrigued.
By Eric Dovigi4 years ago in Fiction
Left for Dead
My head popped out of the frigid waters, immediately gasping for air the second my face hit the surface. Before thinking about doing anything else, I just know I had to get the hell out of these waters. My hand reached up and grabbed the closest patch of dried grass that I could reach before pulling my entire body over the small cliff, wincing at the pain caused by the scraping of the sharp rocks lining up the side of the cliff.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Fiction
A Blueberry Muffin Christmas
I sat quietly behind the shop counter with my nose buried in a philosophy textbook, struggling to focus on its contents. I guess this was good for me and all, working at Dowtin Peak’s singular cafe over Christmas break to pay off my student loans. But it was Christmas Day. Who, in a town of 2,000 people, wants to drive downtown in a blizzard for an overpriced cup of joe on Christmas? No one, apparently, because the shop was empty.
By Evelyn Cormier4 years ago in Fiction
Widow's Walk
Day after day, I climbed the steps to the cupola on the roof to watch for my husband’s ship. I hated that Charles had had to go back to the sea; only last year he had retired from the long trading voyages. With the profit of thirty years as captain, he had purchased his favorite ship and another of similar design, and a large warehouse. Thus settled in business, he had our present home built to his specification: red brick, with the servants’ quarters and kitchen on the ground floor, and dining hall and study above. On the top floor were the bedrooms, ours and two smaller rooms for our sons, Henry and William, all surmounted by a low-ceilinged attic. A trapdoor brought down a stairway to the roof, where the cupola, surrounded by a railing, stood – a captain’s walk, he called it, so that he might watch for his ships’ comings and goings. He had seen them in one of the southern colonies and determined that he should be the first merchant he knew to have one on his own home. His ships were called Salem Town and Colonial Bull – the latter a reference to his favorite tavern, the Bull’s Horns, which he also owned a half-stake in and where he always took his crews for dinner upon arriving safe in harbor and again before setting sail. I confess the ships looked the same as any other in the harbor to me, save that I recognized the officers aboard when they docked, but Charles could see a mast barely peeping over the horizon and know whether it was his own or another’s. He would watch as she approached the wharf to see that the proper number of men were on deck – there always being a risk of illness or accident at sea – and once she was tied up, he would hurry downstairs and across the square to supervise the unloading of cargo. There were usually contracts for most of the goods to be sold on to shops, but there were always some goods that someone was trying to move quickly, and Charles’s captains were savvy in what might or might not be worth finding room aboard for.
By Randi O'Malley Smith4 years ago in Fiction
The Trip of a Lifetime
It’s almost Halloween and the haunting memories from that night five years ago are back again. Every year since that trip, around this time, the nightmares caused by that night return and transport me back in time. I know in my heart that the things I saw on that day were not real and just tricks played on my mind by the incredibly well-planned set-up of the party and whatever the hell it was that Tony dropped in our drinks.
By Gerald Holmes4 years ago in Fiction
