Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
45th the Great
It's amazing how quickly your life can change. Oftentimes because of circumstances beyond your control. I remember how all this started, I was there that day when those fateful words were spoken" whatta ya have to lose?" It was the first time I went to a political rally. I didn't support any candidate yet. I knew of this guy and decided I'd hear what he had to say.
By Qa'id Ali Harris5 years ago in Fiction
Letter from the other side
Dear Mariana, I hope you don’t cry when you read this, though I can’t demand much of you from where I’m writing. It’s interesting, I find the simple notion of writing to you from here unbelievable. I, who always thought that “here” did not exist.
By Natalia Perez Wahlberg5 years ago in Fiction
The Polchinski Locket
The Stormers bear down on me with endless fire. Golden, glowing shards of plasmic metal whistle past me and strike my armor, which won't hold up to an endless barrage such as this one. Weaving between cover, I have no hope of escape. My weapon is nearly empty, and my lone searing knife won't do much good with a group of enemies.
By K. T. Scott5 years ago in Fiction
The Fire Escape
“Stop, Police!” The girl heard behind her as she hurled herself down the alley. She didn't stop, she didn't even look back. “Great" she thought “This was not in the plan.” She leaped like a cat over the low stone wall at the end of the alley and smiled. “No matter” she could lose them in no time. She knew this city better then anyone. And besides, she was fast. Before the war, when she was only ten, she had been the fastest runner in her school. She wouldn't get caught, she couldn't get caught. A girl, alone, out after dark, without a permit. She shook her head “No.. she wouldn't get caught.” “Do they know I stole the locket?” She wondered. “Probably not, It's just a patrol" Her hand went to her breast pocket, and she felt the hard, heart shape of the locket beneath the fabric. She could get a good price for it at the underground market tomorrow, of that she was certain.
By Grace Bisaro5 years ago in Fiction
Dear diary
Dear Diary, No one knows what really happened. The conspirators argue what caused things that went wrong in the year 2050. Some say it was the chem trails in the sky or the vaccines that they mass produced during the covid era. The most possible one I heard was the genetically modified food that the government ordered to produce for the increase of population. When the population rose the government installed the rules for the new generation. My generation now suffers under this government ruling. We can only have one child per family and food rations are given out accordingly from our family statues. This is for stopping the rise of population, but the only problem is that everyone around me is dying from unknown causes. It's been happening for months now. Not only is the mass population declining at a disproportionate rate, but I think that the government is behind this. I need to know more to find the truth. They say that we need to put our trust in the big government, because they know more than us and we must trust the government at all costs.
By Liz Mccory5 years ago in Fiction
A Cure For Malice
Ash. Soot. Crumbling stone walls held an air of something grand clinging to a shred of existence. A house once stood here; one large enough to house Pinnacle’s security division. In this era of cramped charging hubs and Lilliputian living spaces, long removed from when such places were more than rubble, Malice couldn’t imagine another purpose for such a large space.
By Sadie Clements5 years ago in Fiction
To Pluto
He slid his fingers over the cold metal. It wasn’t beautiful, by any means. The chain had tarnished and rusted long ago. He could see that the heart shaped pendant used to be ravishing. It had a dismal green tint behind the years of dirt and grime. The blackened silver hugging the stone still clung onto its former beauty, still trying to shine. He sat there for what felt like an eternity, admiring the beauty of the jewelry. He,mindlessly, turned it over and over in his hands. He wondered who it belonged to and what the story could’ve been. He turned it over in his hands one last time and saw something. If he wouldn’t have looked down at that moment, he would’ve missed it. It was the smallest twirl. It seemed to have been burned into the metal. An inscription, perhaps? He thought. It definitely didn’t look professional. It was shaky, messy, and a stark contrast to the elegant front.
By Hope Davis5 years ago in Fiction
