Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Please, Boy. Stay.
till alive in a world like this. He carried a serrated knife disproportionate to the rest of his body. She imagined if he swung it he would fall with it. She stared at him in awe. Was he a hallucination? Was the putrid stench of the surrounding Creeps finally getting to her? His eyes jumped from Creep to Creep, taking in their ugliness. His eyes caught hers and he lit up. He raised a hand and started waving frantically at her. She froze in place. What the hell is this kid thinking?!? One rustle of his sweater and these beasts are all over him. A Creep bumped its boney structure up against her coat and she started moving again. She looked away from the boy for a second to regain her feet and not alarm the hoard.
By Brooke Musgrave3 years ago in Fiction
Heirloom
I was growing tiresome, but aside from there being a few hours of daylight left, this forest was full of bare snags that didn't provide much cover, and R.I.S.E. was not known for giving up on a hunt. About a mile to the East of here, there is a creek that still flows through this once-thriving forest. As tempting as it is to set up camp closer to the creek, I am certain that is exactly where they will be looking for me. My best chance at surviving through the night is staying to the West and hoping to find some cover before nightfall.
By Joshua Olivio3 years ago in Fiction
E-78
"164 days." I whispered. 164 days since I woke up and everyone on E-78 disappeared. 164 days. Alone. My hand instinctively reached for the switch beside me. The dim light above me flickered before steadying and filling the room with a pale yellow. I sat up and glanced at the thermometer. 89°. This will be the hottest day so far.
By Heather Allison3 years ago in Fiction
Rusted Heart
Agnes was the first to see it, but we all ran towards it anyways as if we could beat her there. We were cleaning up an atrium when a sharp sparkle caught her eye. Having spent five days cleaning this area, we were used to seeing sparkles that were merely the remnants of dust floating through the sun-soaked space. After Agnes got closer to investigate the source of the light, we all circled around like it was time for lunch and Agnes was our food distributer. From what I could see, it was an odd shape. I did not have a name for it, since I had never even seen a book. Frank to my right said it was very dirty. His sister Frances conjectured that “it looks like a type of metal, but why is it so small?” Everything any of us had ever seen that was metal, was quite large. Things like cranes, wrecking-balls, and other demolition machines.
By Melissa Gilbert3 years ago in Fiction
Mimorian
Eyes are the window to the soul. I often thought that saying was bullshit but as I stared at the hazel eyes of the boy on the piece of paper in my hands, I could tell what his life was like without even reading over his file. Or maybe, it was just because I was used to it now.
By Sophie Mahk3 years ago in Fiction
Discovery
I don’t wear makeup, or revealing clothing with this name, in fact each name has her own rules that I follow religiously. When I’m little Liza Monay, I hunch slightly to make my 1.7-meter frame even shorter, and I wear frumpy, dumpy clothes that make me look heaver than my 53 kilos. As I prepare to be the beautiful !Zozs!, all of that changes. Gone are the dull earth tone clothing, in favor of bright shiny fabric. I change the hair on my head for a neon-green colored, sculpted spike set. !Zozs! is vibrant and alive unlike Liza. Bright glittery makeup showcases my fine bone structure, more glitter lightly covers my mostly naked flesh, enhancing the small bits that are not showing, not out of modesty, but to cause a sense of mystery, and a desire in the weak, to see what is hidden. Years of parkour and second story work, done with different names of course, have honed and sculpted my body into the weapon it is today. The makeup has the second function of softening my hard flesh, to make it seem less dangerous. We wouldn’t want to frighten my prey away would we. The final touch, the locket given to her by her mother years past, now attached to a neon-green choker, bringing attention to her long slender neck. !Zozs! is so small, and with her birdlike voice, everyone desires her, none could fear her, done, and perfect.
By Brian Amonette3 years ago in Fiction