Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Paradise: To Be or Not To Be. Runner-Up in the Improbable Paradise Challenge.
Jacob looked down at his chest. His skin was firm, his muscles sinewy. There was only the faintest shadow of a mark where the plastic drain had once been. It wasn't even a scar, only a mere discolouration. He stroked his fingers over the spot, then over his arms reassuring himself that he was here, that there could be no mistake; he was, without a doubt, alive.
By Caroline Jane3 years ago in Fiction
The Thief of Reason. Second Place in The Fantasy Prologue.
There were not always dragons in the Valley. I will see them gone from that place once more. My father wept when I made my pledge, a rare thing. The tears fell from behind his mask like warm, summer rain. His attachment to me was a failing on his part, a stumble upon the Path. Yet I was gladdened to see him weep for me; a failing on mine. Later, upon my journey, I kept the memory of my father’s tears close, and felt a little less alone.
By Madoka Mori3 years ago in Fiction
Stranded
It was a gorgeous, sunny day in Southern California. Luke and his parents were about to set sail on a long cruise to Hawaii and the surrounding islands. The breeze tousled his short blonde hair in the wind as he stood on the deck, watching the other travelers gather on board.
By Holly Draper3 years ago in Fiction
This Place. Runner-Up in Reset Your Password Challenge.
Atticus Black. A glassy reflection to it that made him think of beached whales, slick with oil after a tanker spill. He blew smoke down into it and watched it swirl and linger like a fog. Slowly, it faded and the features of his face reappeared in disjointed form, fragmented in the rippled liquid. Fragmented, he thought. Pulled apart. The liquid settled further and his face came into clear view within it. Broken. He pulled on his cigarette, exhaled and brought the coffee to his lips.
By Dean F. Hardy3 years ago in Fiction
I Like Rainbows and I Like Unicorns
Douglas Dugan held the door open for his 73-year-old brother Dennis as they entered the restaurant. Dennis refused to walk in, "You walk in," Dennis commanded to Doug, "People are going to think we're a couple of old fairies."
By Rick Henry Christopher 3 years ago in Fiction
Remember Me
Matthew I hate mailboxes. In days past, they brought personal news along with bills and advertisements. A handwritten letter stimulated excitement because someone took pen and paper and conveyed their thoughts. A handwritten note represented time and effort. My Dad's generation cherished letters and saved them for decades as stored memories. Nothing good ever comes in the mailbox anymore and today was no exception.
By J. S. Wade3 years ago in Fiction
The Prank
"Reset your password” the computer screen flashed. I was about to begin class, and I ignored the prompt. I’m Jerry Lugar, a sixth grade science teacher at Pearl Middle School. This period I was teaching the ‘troubled’ students. I assumed they had done something to the computer to activate the prompt, so I’d deal with it after class. Every day they’d play another prank.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Fiction
Through Empty Eyes. First Place in Behind the Last Window Challenge.
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. She spent long hours perched by the alcove window - a rare amenity for a no-frills New York City apartment, she had heard. For the "low, low" price of $2950, they, too, could have a heavily obstructed view of the Hudson river, barely gleaming out from behind the mammoth, pre-war brick and mortar apartment complex behind his. A 450 square foot 'paradise' in the city that never sleeps- laughable, but it wasn't as if either of them needed much space. Besides- while she was sure the Hudson was beautiful in all of its glory, she much preferred the view she did have: endless rows of windows in the building just across the way gave her a peek into the daily lives of people she had begun to see as friends. It was an intimate relationship she shared with them- seeing their most private and vulnerable moments through the filmy annealed glass. She couldn't speak to them, but she loved every single one of them. She had seen romances blossom, and friendships end. She had seen age wash over faces once young and full of promise. She had seen love and loss, grief and joy; the taste of those things was as close to feeling them herself as she ever needed. She'd resigned herself to watch over them for as long as she'd have this window. She wondered, on the lonelier nights, if they ever looked back at her, too.
By Christiane Winter3 years ago in Fiction
The Committee Provides. Second Place in Behind the Last Window Challenge.
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Stood at the threshold, buttoning up his coat, George Mote watched her tug at her long plait of blue-black hair. Her gaze, heavy with grief, never shifted from the cracked concrete and leafless vegetation outside his block of flats.
By Charlie C. 3 years ago in Fiction
