Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Reckoning
Is this life? I thought to my self as i stood there holding my weapon across another females face defending the last known piece of bread to mankind. She reminded me of myself honestly, roughly almost 16 years of age, jet black hair with hazel eyes. We could have been related if someone random bumped into us in the street. But that didn’t matter what mattered at this moment was that i needed to make a name for myself. If some random girl can steal my food the other people out here may get the idea to try and do the same. “Let go of the bread and you can keep your life” ““this is a post apocalypse where everything around us is dirt and we are almost to the stage of cannibalism do as you please, not much to live for anyway.”” she had a point and now I’m in an even worse position in taking control of the situation. All eyes are on us now as she utters “kill me if you please” as i held the pocket knife more firm against her neck i took a chance to think.. this is what started where we are today. The control for power has drove everyone insane and made them turn on each other. “We can share it, it’s not much but both of us will get a portion and peace can be maintained “ in that moment everyone around us seemed more shocked i offered to share instead of just kill her. It’s like they were hoping for an exciting fight scene. “Fine” she said as she rolled her eyes.. for some reason i enjoyed her random yet slightly aggressive attitude. I handed over the bread and started to walk away. Little did i know i had a new associate right behind me. ““So what’s your name?”” The random girl asked. “Maia” i responded. ““That’s interesting what does it stand for? And my name is Sarai. I’m not sure if my name has much meaning.”” “My name originates from the meaning brave warrior.” “”Wow is that how you know how to fight so well?””
By Tati Andrews5 years ago in Fiction
And then they woke up
The girl was huddled by the fire, cradling a can of soup she had taken from the old store on the corner. Stars were appearing in the sky as the sun hid from the day that had been and darkness settled over the street, sealing in the cold and dolor that had taken over the girl’s bones. Her patrol to the neighbouring suburbs had proven to be less fruitful than she had hoped. It had been three months since everyone left, and the girl had been working tirelessly since then to find answers.
By jaime elizabeth5 years ago in Fiction
The Hearts Call-Chapter 3
Winds whipped loose dirt and ash around outside of a cave as Lizzy tossed and turned in her sleeping bag. Her face was dirty from days of being on the run without finding anywhere to get more water or clean up. A howl in the distance stirred her, causing her to open her eyes and look around. This was the hardest part of the day since the crash, waking up to find it was all real. It reminded her that her grandfather was gone, much like her father. If she couldn't find a way out of the hot zone and back to San Diego, Lizzy was all alone.
By Jason Ray Morton 5 years ago in Fiction
Hope enduring
I can hear the footsteps penetrating through my eardrums. The echo of snapping twigs that feel as loud as a symbol crashing. I am unsure whether each beat of my heart is louder. I can feel it pounding in my ribcage, trying to break out. I heard a louder snap. It could have been a branch? Did a piece of clothing get snagged? I want to look, peer around the large oak tree that looks as old as the world itself. Maybe I can catch a glimpse of who it is. Just a quick one.
By Janine S White5 years ago in Fiction
The Golden Locket
The Golden Locket by Jeff Naparstek The timing was impeccable. The year was Twenty-Two Fifty Six. The Third Great Depression in less than three hundred years had devastated the economy. The government offered to "help" families with their financial struggle. The price of gold had plummeted to forty-two dollars an ounce. The Senate approved a stabilizing cap of one hundred dollars an ounce for anything purer than eighteen karats.
By Jeff Naparstek5 years ago in Fiction
The Pop-Up Camp
I collect fishhooks whenever I find them. I string them like a beautiful curtain between two trees. There are many ways out of my camp. You can run one way and get the hooks. You can jump out into the reservoir and swim away. Some people try to go back the way they came in, back on the old hiker’s trail. The reservoir is huge now that the dams don’t work. It’s deep in the middle and rocky at the edges. Diving is a real bad idea, but it’s an idea that comes to people when they’re in a hurry. The old hiker’s trail is all safe, that’s the way I come and go, but please don’t tell anybody.
By Matt Keating5 years ago in Fiction
Holmesburg
"Hey, You dropped this!" Mick yelled out, running toward Persephone with a tiny heart-shaped locket dangling from his hand. "Oh my God!!! I would have never made it back through these walls without my Pop with me.", Persephone said with the biggest smile beaming from her face. Since the day she had broken into the old prison, once she realized what was happening, she swore that the only reason they were all still alive was because of that little locket. Her two boys had given it to her on the first Christmas after she had lost her father. It meant the world to her and she felt it gave her some sort of protection since the day the world seemed to flip upside down. After all, at a time like this, you have to believe in something or you'll never make it.
By Sharon Smith5 years ago in Fiction
Where You Go, I Go
As Temperance walked down the path she kept an eye out for any signs regarding the safety zone. She had been alone for nearly two weeks, making her way through what once was the bustling city of Cleveland, Ohio. Though, buildings remained and remnants of homes still stood, the setting was an eerie silence. She had not seen any other survivors since the last air raid. She grasped the heart shaped locket that hung heavy around her neck.
By Samantha Highben5 years ago in Fiction
Split from Utopia
“No!” Naipotu shrieked in horror as Kashmir’s hands slipped from her grasp and she went hurling into the abyss. “Kashmir! Kashmir!” She yelled frantically but she could no longer see or hear her wife. They shared telepathic energy and were able to sense each other but she could no longer feel her either. Naipotu felt nothing but emptiness. She looked around, her vision still slightly blurry from the debris ridden sky. The sky that was once a vibrant pinkish orange, now appeared to be dark purple.
By Toi McMullen5 years ago in Fiction
The Harvest's Words
Downtowns smelled like a wet dog whenever it rained. And that made the bars smell like kill-shelters. They were the best shopping places for a while, if you could stand the scent. Saturday nights at Bad Dad’s, that was my spot. I’d seen enough TV before the plague to know that I couldn’t shop every week, or even every month. I spaced it out to twelve or thirteen times a year. I made my stores last.
By Matt Keating5 years ago in Fiction
