Satire
The Last Train Home
The Last Train Home By Abdul Muhammad The station was nearly empty when I arrived. A single overhead light buzzed and flickered as I stood on the platform, clutching my backpack like it was a lifeline. The last train of the night shrieked in the distance, echoing against the concrete walls.
By Abdul Muhammad 5 months ago in Fiction
What a Top Bloke
Freddie had hoped for warmer weather today, but the wind blew cold. ‘You can’t plan these things,’ he’d told himself. ‘At least the sun’s out!’ He pulled his beanie over his ears and headed for the park bench nestled beneath a big bellied Oak; its leaves starting to flush with vibrant emerald greens.
By Chantal Christie Weiss5 months ago in Fiction
Creature Coach
Iris is transported. Working in the solitude of her chamber, she glides effortlessly, generating a creative vortex. Her focus becomes so intense during alchemy that her body seems to dissipate. Hunger, sleep, and other normal functions become superfluous. She radiates energy like a color spectrum.
By Stephanie Crain5 months ago in Fiction
Apocalypse, With Peaches Part 1. Content Warning.
The water pulsed again, one sudden blip of pressure, sharp as a snapped rubber band, then settled back into its usual stream as though it hadn’t just made Simplicity Grace want to commit a federal crime against plumbing.
By Fatal Serendipity5 months ago in Fiction
Blaze. Top Story - September 2025.
“Mom, wake up. Mom! Quick, look! That’s Brandon, right?” “Where?!” Mrs. Lockwood sat upright and groggily looked around at all the passersby. Then she looked in the direction Scarlett was pointing. It indeed was him! It was her Brandon!
By Dharrsheena Raja Segarran5 months ago in Fiction
The Candidate
Wilma sat waiting to meet the would-be President. Would-be and could-be. Surely all presidential candidates are “would-be” presidents, Wilma mused, nervously flicking her mind from subject to subject in order to occupy her time. In Wilma’s defence, the fate of the world depended on this meeting. And she should know; she’s from the future.
By Conor Matthews5 months ago in Fiction
The Train That Never Stops
M Mehran Every night at exactly 2:13 a.m., Sam heard the train. It was impossible. The town’s railway station had been closed for nearly twenty years, the tracks long abandoned, weeds curling around the rusted rails. Yet, like clockwork, the whistle echoed through the valley, low and mournful, followed by the distant rattle of wheels.
By Muhammad Mehran5 months ago in Fiction
