Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Fiction.

One Hundred and Fifty Beats
All I can think about is the way the stubble on my legs is catching on the fabric of the chair I am sitting in. Or my feet, sticking slightly to the cold and clammy floor of my home. The cool air passing behind my neck and raising goosebumps on my arms. The way the sun, red and hot and slowly setting through my window, is reflecting off of a mirror in the cover of the book my daughter is reading at just the right angle to cover my vision with angry dots that multiply when I blink. I can look directly at her, but I cannot see her through the white hot replicas of the sun in my vision. I can look directly at her, but I cannot see her.
By Victoria Mizel5 years ago in Fiction
The Thomas Code
Chapter 1 The Year- 1889 A baby born, named Thomas Prescott Jr, in the rugged backwoods of Western Virginia, would change the world. A log cabin with its dirt floor and weeping walls contained the sounds of the unattended birth process.
By J. S. Wade5 years ago in Fiction
Doomsday Diary Challenge
As I walked down the old, abandoned street, I realized I could barely remember what it looked like before the carnage, the bombings, before it all went to hell. To the right of me was the park. The beautiful rhododendrons would be in full bloom and the breeze would blow the petals across the grass. Now, in their place, were broken trees, swing sets ripped from their places in the ground, old picnic tables torn and strewn about. The other side of the street was the Farmers Market. Rubble and turned over cars littered the street that once buzzed with electricity. Merchants selling their wares and customers bartering for the newest in organic vegetables and fried food. I have been asked the question several times since the end. Where was I when someone pushed the button. I was here with my family. We were sitting in the park munching on hotdogs and waiting for next band to come out on stage. Suddenly there was a loud “BOOM” and we saw something hit the Interstate bridge. Then the chaos seemed to take a movement like a slow-motion picture. We watched the freeway bridge, and its cars slowly snap each cable support and slide into the cold river.
By Lori Best5 years ago in Fiction
Dear Diary
“Dear Diary, The end was sudden, and bleak. Survivors of the end were left scrambling for resources as governments, leaderships, corporations’ etcetera had crumbled. People had to fend for themselves, and it turned ugly. With neighbour against neighbour, no sense of unity survived or occurred. Those first few days tempers flamed, fights occurred, fires blazed. But no one worked together, to solve the biggest crisis at hand: what to do?
By Jay5 years ago in Fiction
Too Much Horror
The wine arrives in small barrels that bang down the chute. It’s red. They only drink red, so they only sell it, and as employees we have the opportunity to buy it, bottled and heavily discounted, as we leave our shift.
By Heather Ewings5 years ago in Fiction
Prometheus and Armageddon
It was when we entered through the fourth door that we found floating in the liquid space an immense stone, almost spherical, flattened on the sides, with an igneous center still alive.
By Juan Laborde5 years ago in Fiction
In the Arms of Morpheus
Fresh rain pooled in the broken crevasse of the old brick walkway. The morning doves sang their song above from the newly established power lines. In the distant one of the many trollies of the city squelched out their miserable horn. The bustle of the city's streets echoed down the thin corridor. Though the sun was out, positioning of buildings shadowed the small brass door, the only true illumination would beam from the neon glow of an “open” sign. On the door, neatly pressed in, was the nameplate: J. Edward Liveon, Private Eye.
By RW Hughes5 years ago in Fiction
In the Arms of Morpheus
The clouds thundered in the distant skies, the morning hues of burgundy and maroon gently kissed the exposed blue. The sun merely signaled the time of 9am. Stepping into the fresh morning sun from the narrowed brick corridor, J. Edward Liveon, Private Eye, sniffled at the sight of the bustling crowds of Market square. As a trolley squelched past, spewing its’ enraged ashen debris, a toll booth could be heard in the distance, two dings, a pause, two more dings. The sounds of voices were amplified, ricocheting off the dark stoned buildings, soft water droplets propelling the rocky exteriors. The square was wide, with many off-shooting streets of varying sizes. The larger ones bustled with motor carriages and trollies. Moderately sized pathways, which dipped and curved throughout the region, were jam-packed with bustling foot traffic, Thousands of mysterious faces traveling to mysterious places. The smaller paths were harder to spot, shady characters decorated the mouths to the dangerous alleys. Edward would fall within the shared classification of a shady character, the slight scar on his face often allotted a swift judgment by strangers.
By RW Hughes5 years ago in Fiction
In the Arms of Morpheus
Rain splintered heavily against the tin walls of the warehouse. Adding to the sweet melody of rain was the sporadic array of thunder, which decorated the sky in the ravishing dance of lightning that often went hand in hand. The thunder would roll in menacing waves, a double blast of bangs- pause for the flash of lightning, with a pursuing double blast of thunderous eruptions in the sky. The waves of the nearby sea lashed out in violence at the cemented docks. Occasionally the tentacles of water would aggressively assault the tin walls of the large dockside warehouse. Within the walls, the loud smash of water on metal echoed endlessly through the wooden crates marked with miscellaneous papers.
By RW Hughes5 years ago in Fiction
The Hidden Treasure
The unexpected letter arrived in the mail in a plain white envelope with no return address. Moses tossed it in the trash since it resembled an advertisement for a car deal he received the week before. Curiosity lured him to retrieve it and he brushed the coffee grounds off.
By J. S. Wade5 years ago in Fiction
Terran Winds
I write in this journal for those who would find it when I have passed. My name is Julie. I am fourteen in Earth years. That is my home planet. We had to leave the planet after the moon exploded. We had made it our portal to the stars. We had stored so much nuclear fuel on the moon that when a rogue asteroid hit the moon it caused an explosion so massive that it destroyed it.
By DS5 years ago in Fiction
Diplomatic Etiquette and the Alien Menace
Welcome to the Exterran Federation Guide to Human-Kro'dyl Relations. Perhaps you are reading this because you are an Envoy considering a xenodiplomatic post, or a businessman seeking practical advice on alien relations, or a member of the public curious about this strange new species. The members of the Kro'dyl Dominion have a reputation for belligerence, but they are also a species marred by cruel and inaccurate rumors as well as simple cultural misunderstandings. These guides are intended to set the record straight on this species while also helping the reader navigate their culture with caution and sensitivity.
By Andrew Johnston5 years ago in Fiction