Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Fiction.

LHS Class of 01 Reunion '21
It has been about a year since Covid shut down places around the globe and the lockdown had changed the lives of many all over the world. But once the regulations had been lifted, many things changed. The same goes for the Lincoln High School class of 2020 and the upcoming class of 2021. The school had to shut down and the students had to resort to remote learning and because they couldn’t have prom or a in school graduation, the diplomas would be sent home. The class of 2021 would have some challenges but would make something work as they manage to return to class but under new guidelines. Mrs. Martin had retired after the 2020 school year ended and Mrs. Smith had stepped in as the new principal with the class of 2021 to be the first one to graduate under her. As for the class of 2001, their upcoming 20 year reunion is on a different track, but everybody made plans on going regardless. Keeping a distance and having masks are part of the guidelines until further notice and the school gym has not changed since the 15th reunion. So Mrs. Smith would have to do some quick thinking especially after realizing that the senior prom and the reunion were accidentally scheduled on the same day.
By Forest Green2 days ago in Fiction
The New City
The white trails of smoke clouded the skies above as the echoes of the jets boomed through the hollow morning in No Name Town. Not an ear could hear as below the city bustled from headphones to speakers with bicycles and people walking in the marble plaza or to the eco park, work, school, all beneath the eagles glare. And in the middle, on the 15th floor of her apartment building, sat a young woman staring longingly out the window to both the skies above and the city below. From that perch she gazed upon the screens that filled the city plaza, catering to a whole manner of needs from cafes, gyms, mindfulness pods, and streaming offices. Atop the largest skyscraper an electronic billboard always rang the quote, “The most important thing is not life, but the good life” pulsing in pink.Whenever her gaze slipped from the screens she found herself between the set of paths which there were two: the trail to everywhere and the trail to nowhere and the glaze of smoke in the clouds. Today though, a rather tall man stood at the fork of the two paths. He wore an all black sweatshirt with the brand name MoonHut bolded in white on the back and blue jeans from the brand she was most familiar with, SunHut. But there was something more, she noticed the white fedora with a forest green band around it was from somewhere she'd never seen before. Then the man seemed so odd, he must have been crazy taking one step in the direction of one trail before switching to the other and coming back again. One step towards nowhere, then one towards everywhere, as if the choice itself had trapped him.
By Schmalz2 days ago in Fiction
Routine Test. Content Warning.
It was an ordinary morning of an ordinary day. I got up at 7:30am, brushed my teeth, threw on my glasses, and pulled back my hair into a rough bun. I had slept with it wet, so it had developed unpleasant kinks in awkward places. After packing a simple lunch into my Tupper ware- tuna salad with rice crackers and a side of sliced cucumber- I checked Google Maps to make sure I would make it to the optometrist in time. I would arrive exactly 3 minutes late, the screen told me. It did occur to me that with parking and checking in at the front desk, I would be at least 5 minutes late, but that didn't seem an unforgivable offence. I took another minute to apply lip gloss and a spritz of perfume, scratch Joni between the ears, before swiping the keys from my mantle and half-running to the car.
By Kara Lu2 days ago in Fiction
At Auction, Rules Must Be Followed. Content Warning.
"I want that one.” The big woman leers at the man on the auction block. She fans herself with her bidding paddle. Her hair is wet with sweat— she brushes a damp, blonde curl away from her face.
By Sam Spinelli2 days ago in Fiction
We the Providers
"All right, you're up," Fengari told me. I yawned and stretched. "Already?" "Yes," she answered. "Ouranos and Avgi say so. Avgi's already riding her chariot across his canvas."
By Reiley2 days ago in Fiction
Tears from the Sky
She was new, the girl with the red hair. It was copper, the color of brand-new shiny pennies, and looking at it, Randall wanted to run his hands through it and feel how soft it was. He didn't do that, of course. Instead, he sat down at the long table in the mess hall across from her and said, simply, "Hello."
By Raistlin Allen2 days ago in Fiction
Stocking Feet
Moving day came for Jeremy and his new family. The jet lag had set in hard. Worse than he could have ever imagined. It gave him a pounding headache and horrible disorientation. He’d been a coast-to-coast redeye guy for years, but this was a whole nother level.
By David Deane Haskell2 days ago in Fiction
Something's Wrong With Mindy
From the outside looking in, the Martins led the ideal life. They lived in a beautiful pale-yellow house with a perfectly manicured lawn and a variety of stunning rose bushes out front, the envy of all who saw them. They were tall, blonde, blue-eyed, athletic, and physically perfect according to society’s current set of standards.
By Shannon Hilson2 days ago in Fiction
Chili, like in Italy
A fly whirs its wings and flies away from a flickering bulb in the corner of a hospital corridor. The pistachio-green paint smells of newness and sterile freshness. The metal that connects lined-up chairs, obediently in a row of five along the walls opposite the consulting room doors, matches the green. It’s 8 p.m., so only one is still open. Emergency care must be accessible at any time. You never know when something might happen to you.
By George Roast2 days ago in Fiction
Broken S1E2: No Vacation
The Episode starts with a close of up Michael sleeping on the couch and as the view pans out we can see his hand is drooped off the couch and a bottle of beer rests in his hand.
By ShaeWrites2 days ago in Fiction
Grace. Top Story - April 2026.
“Caroline, Zach! Dinner’s ready!” my mother called up the stairs. I marched down and took my place at the table. “Wash your hands, dear,” my mother said.
By Bride of Sound2 days ago in Fiction
The Silence at Four
The timed kettle emitted its high-pitched lament. Elias didn’t need to look at the clock. He moved his hand from the ledger, stood up, and moved to the stove.
By Mishael Witty2 days ago in Fiction