Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Tsunami of Cats
I put my hand out but couldn't reach her even though we were in the same room. She laughed, not at me, at the TV—something to do with mice. It was a pleasant evening outside. Inside it was just evening. I asked her to change the channel to something more interesting and she replied that I should change into something more interesting first. She had the remote and is sometimes packing a nine so I went and sat in my easy chair.
By Karl Van Lear5 years ago in Fiction
Waterlogged
I was born after the rain began. My grandfather told me how amazing the world was before the storm; how bright and green the grass was on cultivated fields as far as the eye could see. He told me climbing the mountaintops was a test of skill and endurance, not a simple saunter up onto what limited dry land we had left. He told me, through tired eyes and matted hair, of a time when the world was warm and dry. But that was before the rain fell. Before the sun went away.
By N.J. Folsom5 years ago in Fiction
How I Became a Vegan
A week ago, at breakfast, my alphabet cereal spelled Doom in my bowl. I decided then and there to switch to Cheerios. Two days later my Cheerios wrote Doom in my bowl. It seems Cheerios stole a D and an M from the alphabet cereal box, which sits nearby on the shelf in the breakfast section. I felt a conspiracy brewing and rifled through my cupboards to find the ringleader because I’m not the kind of guy to slink away when my food staples start ganging up on me. I’m the apex predator here, not those multi-grain minions. I felt if I could identify the instigator I could put an end to this uprising.
By Karl Van Lear5 years ago in Fiction
Acid Rain
It’s only the fourth day of the government-induced lockdown, and I think I am already beginning to hate him. He catches me staring at him as he looks up from his work laptop. I don’t lower my eyes like I might usually do. Instead, my gaze furrows into a glare. Then I look away before I can register if he’s amused or pissed off.
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Fiction
The Oasis
The desert is hot. I see mirages of water as I desperately search for food. After the World War of 2030, there was not much left on earth but dust. My ancestors have told stories - stories of a peaceful, bountiful world that was. I decide to stop my search to sit on the sand. I am exhausted from looking all day through the dust. I close my eyes and try to feel the earth. I can hear the wind and the chatter of the others in the background.
By Kathryn Willis5 years ago in Fiction
Experiment in Love
It happened in November, not one of my favourites months. I prefer October because of the falling leaves. I guess that my heart is French, though my mind has been ravaged by the words of the Bard. Shakespeare seems to rule my brain, and I’m afraid, both hemispheres. I may need a third. But my muse is the Queen, and the King if I add everything else that she does. O muse, you doth me the blues. My blue soul is in love with your red heart.
By Patrick M. Ohana5 years ago in Fiction
Trophy Room Chain Letter
In mid-2020, I decided to create a series of miniature trophy busts. I combined creative writing and crafting to create a backstory for each one. The overarching story of the trophy busts is that they are black market items previously owned by a shady man named Dickii Solo, who recently died.
By Chelsea Campbell5 years ago in Fiction
A Slow Decent Into Madness
It's 2AM and all I have to do is wait. Death comes for all of us. The problem is death doesn't announce itself or waits to be invited, it just comes whenever it chooses and then it’s over. Death doesn’t care if your ready, or if you want it to come. Most people are surprised when death comes, like they hoped death would visit them at another time or another hour. The irony that the only certainty of life is death is the only thing that makes me laugh now.
By Elizabeth Grant5 years ago in Fiction
The Nobel Prize Lecture
The following is an official transcript of the Nobel lecture given on Dec. 10, 20--: Ladies and gentlemen, your majesties, and my fellow laureates: I must say that I still feel as though I have been having a long and beautiful dream these last few months. Nothing can prepare the writer for the moment – a vivid point of realization - when he discovers that his chosen profession was not a mistake or a whim that would have been best left to adolescence. For that, I thank the academy. I thank you all.
By Kendall Defoe 5 years ago in Fiction
I Swear I Saw the Whole Thing
Fine, man, don't believe me - here I go out of my way and come to you with a story that could change the way you see the world forever and you just brush me off like some lunatic in the street. I listen to all your boring, pointless stories and don't complain, but here I see a miracle and you shrug it off. No, not a miracle, something better than a miracle because anyone can do this. I'm talking about turning the impossible into the possible, and you're going to be a little prick about it. Well, fine.
By Andrew Johnston5 years ago in Fiction
Piper's Last Song
The water over St. Anthony Falls was spewing spewing forth as if in a mad rush to make it from the Mississippi to the sea. Piper had noticed that in the last year, the once-foul water had become unusually pure; so much so that she begun to eat some of the fish she caught, rather than putting them all out for the cats.
By Juliette McCoy Riitters5 years ago in Fiction
