Satire
The Lantern in the Fog
The fog settled over the village like a blanket soaked in silence. At first it was gentle, wrapping the streets in a quiet hush. But as night deepened, it thickened into something heavier, almost alive, crawling along the cobblestones and slipping into the cracks of every home. It was not the kind of fog that simply blurred the edges of things. This fog carried a chill that touched the marrow, a weight that pressed on the heart, and whispered doubts in voices that sounded eerily familiar.
By Sound and Spirit4 days ago in Fiction
Unclaimed
In Laceloom, even kindness has teeth. My office sat above a perfumer’s shop that sold bottled nostalgia to people who couldn’t trust their own memories. The stairwell smelled like bruised lilac and old smoke, which suited me fine. Down on the street, the city glowed the way a lie glows when it’s almost convincing. Lanterns hung from living branches. Cobblestones shone. Every passerby looked like they’d been sculpted by an artist.
By Aspen Noble4 days ago in Fiction
The Pfister sisters and other God-blessed heroes . Content Warning.
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they will have absolute revenge. Blessed are the meek, for they will be terrible with strength in the Lord. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will take nourishment from the wicked. Blessed are the pure in heart, for no evil shall stand against them.
By Sam Spinelli4 days ago in Fiction
Happy VD. Content Warning.
Something was definitely wrong. I’d always laughed about burning piss, but holy fuck, this was no joke. My dick felt like it was on fire, and not in the good way. I’d been on the prowl a lot since Debbie dumped me, tagging a groupie at every gig. Best way to get over one woman is to get over another few.
By Harper Lewis6 days ago in Fiction
The Littlings
Rebecca was a woman, regardless of how she’d look to you. A tomboy grown up, she had long accepted she struck many as, in a word, “butch.” Thick, square, and barrel-chested, Rebecca absent-mindedly chewed her nicotine gum in wide, obnoxious, exposed openings of her mouth, stimming as she glanced down to her van dash-holstered phone displaying directions; she couldn’t hear her music with the text-to-speech on. Thankfully, for pedestrians and other drivers, she wasn’t long pulling into the driveway of that morning’s client; Janet Frost of 108 Glengreen Estates.
By Conor Matthews9 days ago in Fiction
Lemonade Isn’t Meant for Wine Glasses
News flash, news flash! Come hear, one and all. For the upcoming spring and summer, you’ll want to be free to let loose and enjoy all the outdoor festivities. One thing, however, must be kept in mind. One thing must be known, above all else:
By Gabriel Shames10 days ago in Fiction
