Classical
Dinner
Whiskey tango foxtrot. Would you look at the seating chart my brother just handed me? It was a nightmare worthy of Phobetor and Phantasos. I swatted him with it then told him he could seat the ladies. That should fix his little red chariot but good. “And tell Aphrodite to dress for dinner. I won’t have her at my table in cut offs and a tube top.” I noticed Hermes glancing at the chart. “Any table.” If there’s a loophole, he’ll find it. If there isn’t, he’ll make one.
By Harper Lewis10 days ago in Fiction
The Wild Boy
The Wild Boy While chasing monkeys, we unknowingly entered deep into a dense forest. The monkeys were hanging from tree branches, leaping from one tree to another, and running swiftly, while we ran after them. We had heard many stories about the mischief of monkeys, but that day they truly played a trick on us.
By Sudais Zakwan11 days ago in Fiction
Cui Bono
“This heist won’t work.” By Fredrick’s estimation, the look of bewilderment painting the face of the priest across the dingy tavern table didn’t make his statement any less untrue. To avoid his partner Grander’s inevitable stomp, Fredrick kicked his boots onto the table.
By Matthew J. Fromm11 days ago in Fiction
The Duelist. Top Story - November 2025.
The rays of a dying red sun flashed against the onrushing blade. The grey beards say the key to dueling lies in size, speed, reach, righteous fury, whatever the person in front of them pays them to say. Matteo knew better than any it was none of these and had an undefeated record on these sands to prove it.
By Matthew J. Fromm11 days ago in Fiction
The Archive of the Last Seed
The city of Orizon was a marvel of the 24th century. It was a vertical spire of silver and light that pierced the clouds, powered by the constant vibration of the atmosphere. Inside, everything was synthetic. The walls were made of self-healing polymers, the air was scrubbed to a perfect clinical scent, and the food was printed in 3D blocks of nutrient-dense protein. To the citizens of Orizon, "nature" was a high-resolution simulation you could project onto your bedroom walls if you were feeling nostalgic for a history you never lived.
By Asghar ali awan12 days ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker of Chronos Lane
In the heart of a city that never stopped to breathe, there was a narrow alleyway known as Chronos Lane. It was so thin that two people could barely walk abreast, and at its very end sat a shop no larger than a garden shed. The sign above the door didn't say "Jeweler" or "Watch Repair." It simply bore the image of a single, unadorned brass gear.
By Asghar ali awan12 days ago in Fiction
