Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
And the Senator from
And the senator from......... by Norris A Burrell Most people thought that in the end they would be banding together to fight flesh eating zombies or holding up in their bunker with a lifetime supply of food and water. Only to exit from the ground when the air is free from nuclear fallout. No one ever thought the end would come with a blink of a eye and from a meek but power hungry U.S Senator. Its been ten years since this man turned the entire world on its ear. Now this meek and now power welding Senator sits in his newly built city in what was once called Manhattan. He calls this place New Jerusalem, its massive and well protected by a military force hand chosen by him.
By Norris A Burrell5 years ago in Fiction
Can't Argue
I can't argue. When the world ended and the dead roamed the earth one year ago, I couldn't argue with who took me in and kept me safe, my Marine dad, and this weird not-so-government group called Red America. It's really just whatever's left of the U.S Army telling everyone left what to do. My dad loves them. Me? Well, I can't argue.
By Kevin Williams5 years ago in Fiction
Lockdown Lane
The wind whips past the sitting room window, threatening the panes of glass with its hellish temper. I observe under the cover of darkness. I can hear muffled voices in the adjacent lane that runs the length of my garden. Even before the virus decimated Edinburgh, the lane was always a source of malignant activity. A suburban lane, offering a shortcut from one long nondescript road to another. It used to be frequented by dog walkers and teenagers using the nearby leisure centre by day, and off-road dirt bikes used it to get to the park at night. Was it still being used by dealers? I strain to hear, it’s useless in this weather. A raucous laugh is lifted by the wind and splits into four different directions as soon as it has escaped the snarled mouth of the issuer. What has he got to laugh about? I always liked to stick my nose into other people’s business. Any sounds of police vehicles outside would leave me glued to my window, good little curtain twitcher that I am. The police don’t come anymore. My reverie is broken by a wailing from outside. I almost don’t want to look. That’s a lie. I inch towards the landing window. From here I can see two of my neighbour’s front doors. One is firmly closed, as it has been for the past few months after the guy renting the house did a bunk back to wherever he came from. HE was smart, I concede. The other door is wide open, it’s my elderly neighbour’s place. Their flat is on the ground floor which of course is asking for trouble. I told her to take the upstairs now Sergio has gone. She was worried about her husband managing the stairs. I tried to tell her he shouldn’t be going out anyway. I can do nothing for them now. I tried to warn her. Independent a fault. Keep your doors locked and don’t use the garden, I beg you. I watch as an ambulance takes the prone figure of an old man into the back. She doesn’t go with him. No need for sirens now. I get a flashback to 6 months ago; we received our vaccines and we sat around the picnic bench in my garden and toasted each other’s health. They always did like a drink, whilst pretending they didn’t. Amazing how when someone else is supplying the booze they make an exception. I catch myself half smiling at the memory. So, another one bites the dust. I can’t deal with other people’s misery anymore. I used to be empathetic to a fault. Someone at work asked me once, ‘what is actually up with you?’ like it was a bad thing to be kind and mindful of what someone else is going through. I was embarrassed by his comment but found myself wondering if it was a character flaw. It’s a moot point now. Survival has knocked that out of me. I glance at the only way into my flat. Secured. I steel myself for what I need to do next. I only venture out when I get low on provisions. Not too low though, as there have been times I haven’t been able to obtain any. ‘Obtain’ is a better word than ‘steal’.
By Laura McNulty5 years ago in Fiction
Journal of a Wanderer
OCTOBER 17th, 2278 Existence invites Conflict. It’s the determinate factor of evolution. Without Conflict, life would cease to develop along a natural course – for better or worse. It would stall and stagnate. It’s a harsh reality, but it’s a candid reality nonetheless. It’s always been here with us; Conflict, I mean. Since we learned to walk upright, he’s walked next to us, shaping us.
By Matthew Reilly5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket
She kept running. After lifting the amethyst encrusted locket Lana knew she'd get caught. It was late afternoon as the boat shipped out with whole families being seen off by relatives. Running up the plank Lana was stopped by a crewmember. "Pass please." Lana just stomped his foot making the plump mustachioed crewmember begin to hop on one foot like an overweight kangaroo. She was a former street urchin. Flowing strawberry blonde hair and barely visible freckles in green and brown rags. It was painfully obvious that if only by disguise she didn't belong. The ship itself was incredibly plush with intricate and ornate decorations. Even the carpets looked oriental or persian maybe. Why this was on a ship in the ocean Lana had no clue.
By John Lewis Wright5 years ago in Fiction
Uprising
Josie gazed at the building that stood ahead of her. Her excitement twitched to get inside and look around, but she kept her feet firm for a little longer, giving her eyes time to take in the beauty of the building. This was her favourite thing about life; finding these fascinating abandoned buildings, exploring their secrets and wondering about what they once were. This one was tall, built with sand colored stones of different shapes and sizes. There was no door left in the door frame, and there were open holes half way up the walls, but the ceiling remained intact. When she'd taken in all she could from the outside, she began the short walk towards the entrance, giddiness dancing in her tummy as she approached the stone steps leading into the building.
By Katie Thompson5 years ago in Fiction
