Top Stories

Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.

Rookie Card
Kendall watched and waited while sitting on the designated park bench. His hands clasped the black gym bag that contained his savings, cashed in 401 K and recent paycheck earnings. He still could not believe he was going to purchase his dream Mickey Mantle rookie card. He found the seller on-line. His fingers trembled, checking his watch once again. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard yelling.
By C. H. Richard3 years ago in Fiction
103rd Times a Charm
“Clink! Where are we with this?” I hiss quietly, knowing my communicator will pick it up. “Sorry Boss! This hack is taking a minute,”
By Heather Zieffle 3 years ago in Fiction
The Word Thief
"I know why you're here." "You do?" Jaxon sighed, annoyed. "Aye. There's only one reason people seek me out in this fetid, sorry excuse for a tavern."
By JP Harris3 years ago in Fiction
Boiling Sea
Bailey stirred. Her back was cold, which was usually where her sister would curl up to her. But she wasn't there. Where was she? Bailey's shouts woke the sleeping village.
By Rachel Deeming3 years ago in Fiction
Ever so slowly
Her plan had unfolded ever so slowly.  Unsure if it would falter and then spectacularly combust.  Or would her dreams be realised?
By Pauline Fountain3 years ago in Fiction
The Buried Lover
It was the wee hours of the morning and the perfect time to do the deed. I knew it was wrong, but my selfish tendencies got in the way. Did his mom really think one tiny film canister was enough? What I was about to do was immoral on so many levels. Even my little brother, who would do anything for me, refused to help. I had some good friends, though. I knew this would follow us to our graves.
By Stephanie Downard3 years ago in Fiction
Out of Water
The tail was a joke, at first. Mom liked giving lavish gifts that no one would use, then got hurt when no one used them. Like the steam cleaner she gave my older brother when he was a college student who didn't even do his own laundry.
By Suze Kay3 years ago in Fiction
Under a Full Spectrum of Oranges. Runner-Up in Word Hunt Challenge. Content Warning.
Mac had said that Trudy was the best, that she’d be able to reach into the murky hereafter stew and pull out a beloved sparkling spoon. Or at least an edible bite. He'd said that she had an otherworldly aura, like an ethereal crossing guard or a maternal translator in heaven's waiting room. Because of Trudy, Mac apparently got to talk with his ex-wife pretty regularly. “And this time she always answers my calls,” he'd joked.
By A. Lenae3 years ago in Fiction
Lightning in the Lanterns of Fortune
The gods punishment can be cruel, depending upon the law, but far more cruel is being cursed with such depth of love for the fool who broke it. My very soul lies broken with you upon this punishment my husband, but I shall never leave your side. Daughter to the Æsir, Lady who rules over loyalty , faithfulness... compassion, I leave not mine husband to face this ill fortune alone.
By Veronica Coldiron3 years ago in Fiction
Neighbours. Second Place in Microfiction Magic Challenge.
They’re feuding. Have been for months. Next time, the dog gets a bullet. She ruffles Baxter’s fur – watch it buddy – but one whiff of sheep and he’s over the fence, ears pinned, nipping at lamb rumps.
By Megan Anderson3 years ago in Fiction
The Quick Heist
Bjork slid the mask to his chin once his partner signaled the security cameras were disabled. “You’re sure this is right place? I don’t see a bank sign,” he said.
By J. S. Wade3 years ago in Fiction
Electric Meat. Content Warning.
Content Warning: Portrayals of sex. The airport buzzes soft and grating in your ear; the security line inches along. It’s not a crowded day, mind you, but there are fewer security agents than usual herding people through metal detectors; some stomach bug going around among the staff that you’ll never know about because you’re not on the inside. So you scroll through your phone, and every 30 seconds, you grasp the handle of your rolling luggage and glide it two feet down the line, on a floor that’s always a little sticky. The handle crackles against the tips of your fingers. You sigh.
By Steven Christopher McKnight3 years ago in Fiction