Humor

I Thought We Were Cleaning Out our Uncle’s House, Then We Found This
Uncle Jerry had been dead for three days, and already the house smelled like a mixture of old newspapers, mothballs, and despair. The family had gathered to clean it out, ostensibly to honor him, but mostly to figure out who got the good stuff before someone else did.
By Tim Carmichael3 months ago in Fiction
Day Eight: Eight Maids a-Milking
By morning, the bungalow smelled faintly of oat milk, wet feathers, and a kind of moral fatigue normally associated with tax season.
By Stephen Stanley3 months ago in Fiction
Day Seven: Seven Swans a-Swimming
Stephen woke to the sound of running water. For one blissful second, he thought it was rain. Then came the splash, the hiss, and the unmistakable honk of entitled aquatic royalty.
By Stephen Stanley3 months ago in Fiction
Help Me Carry This To My Head
In the heart of a bustling market, where traders shout and feet shuffle in haste, a lone voice rises above the chaos. "Help Me Carry This To My Head! Help Me Carry This To My Head!"
By Kalebe Kossi Numedo3 months ago in Fiction
Fetterman's Wake
I'm the kind of asshole who would hold his own wake just to see what those closest — and not so closest — to me would say. To see if they'd even turn up. Ego, ego, ego; dies at death, or is it reborn and energized?
By Paul Stewart3 months ago in Fiction
DAY SIX: Six Geese a-Laying
The first sign was the smell. A sharp, swampy odour crept up the porch before the doorbell even rang. It smelled of ponds, panic, and something that might once have been straw. Stephen had been mid–Teams call, trying to look competent while nudging a partridge away from his keyboard, when Jane called from the hallway:
By Stephen Stanley3 months ago in Fiction
Square Mile
The bar at the airport transit lounge in Hong Kong at 3am is perhaps not an ideal situation for making new friends. On the other hand, two weary travellers alone at a bar can only ignore each other for so long.
By robert fisherman3 months ago in Fiction
The Night the River Took the Moon. AI-Generated.
The villagers of Keshari Bend still whisper about the night the river swallowed the moon. Not the real moon — no one is foolish enough to believe that —
By shakir hamid3 months ago in Fiction
Vocal.Media Need New Glasses
Maybe They Need New Glasses I have spent the last two days pulling my hair out, wondering what on earth I was doing wrong. Every poem I tried to put on Vocal got the same message back. Not in English. Not in English. Not in English. As if I had suddenly decided to start writing in ten different languages overnight.
By Marie381Uk 3 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker’s Promise
M Mehran Everyone in the quiet town of Eldenbrook knew Elias Thorn, the old clockmaker whose shop stood at the corner of Willow Street. The windows were always fogged with dust and time, and the shelves were filled with clocks—grandfather clocks, pocket watches, delicate sand timers, and curious contraptions no one had names for.
By Muhammad Mehran3 months ago in Fiction
Day Five: Five Gold Rings
The silence the next morning felt suspicious — the sort of silence that implies the universe has stepped out of the room to fetch something worrying.
By Stephen Stanley3 months ago in Fiction
Day Four: Four Calling Birds
Stephen woke to an unusual quiet. The partridge perched peacefully on the windowsill like a feathered monk. The pigeons dozed in their bathroom exile. Even the French hens had clustered by the radiator, gossiping in polite whispers.
By Stephen Stanley3 months ago in Fiction