Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
MUTIES
Night fell hard and fast with a steady twilight rain. Downtown New York was a ghost town of boarded up churches, gyms, restaurants, bars, and the local hardware store. Strangely enough, the liquor store remained unaffected by the Governor's orders. A terrified, suspicious, and confused citizenry had given a freshman governor a vast degree of control over their actions. Like any other young, inexperienced egomaniac with the offer of a lot of power on the table, the governor took the offer of enhanced powers and ran with it.
By Kent Brindley3 years ago in Fiction
Her Nuclear Family
The trees were ripe with fruit. Green turned to red, deep and dark like blood. Each one nestled in leaves, wrapped around it protectively as though the branches knew that you might steal one, and were prepared to scratch. Luca gazed up, eyes squinting at the light that fell dappled between the shapes. She could practically taste them; she had done that once, against the better judgment of the elders. At first the fruit had been sweet, then a striking bitter that had lingered on her tongue for days.
By Matilda Lambert3 years ago in Fiction
Bed Time Story; The Great Goat Trainers!
I am Jed. I live in a small town tucked away in a small state with a lot of woods. My family is primarily immigrants from Ireland that came here during the potato famine, although I did have an aunt that couldn't make up her mind, so she was known for going back and forth on numerous trips. My Grandfather spoke of her being the quirky one. He says she's like my Aunt Lorraine. Or Aunt Lorraine is like her, I should say.
By Jeff Johnson3 years ago in Fiction
Unspoken Words
Joseph Brannick. (307) 677-2688. [email protected]. 1895 words UNSPOKEN WORDS by JOSEPH M. BRANNICK Riding down a forest path, near the outpost he had been assigned after the collapse of society, Frontier Guard, Jaime, had ridden this trail one hundred times on one hundred days just like this. So he was particularly alarmed to see a young woman running along the path before him. She had elegant shoes, her hair was daintily held into place with pins and she wore a fine dress, but it was clear that all was not well as her dress was tattered and her hair was a mess. The contrast from what was typically worn these days made him fear she could be a diversion to an ambush. He rode up and cautiously demanded, “What seems to be the trouble, miss?”
By Joseph Brannick 3 years ago in Fiction
The Pixie's Request
Aradia was a fae. The last thing she felt like doing; however, was bobbing around in the sunshine and putting dew on the grass. No, Aradia found much more appeal in the decay and the dark. She understood that nothing could grow without death and rot to fertilize it. She knew intrinsically that dark brought the rest required for daytime things to flourish.
By Sara Rolsen3 years ago in Fiction
The Lucky One
2051 - No one could have imagined my life, not the best sci-fi authors or doomsday predictors. At the ripe old age of 99 I’m still thankful and sickened at the same time. My time is short now, yet the events that happened 30 years ago haunt me to these, my finals days. Billions died seemingly overnight and yet, here I am, old even in a utopian best-case scenario. I’m thankful not only for being alive, although the alternative would have been a horribly painful death, I’m thankful because like all of the survivors worldwide, our direct descendants have survived, too. One day life was good for me, living the dream. I was retired, my wife’s retirement was imminent, but it was not to be. Traveling to far off, dreamt about locations was what our future held. Maybe have our kids traveling with us and the grandkids at times.
By Phillip Cecconie3 years ago in Fiction
Delivery
DeliveJasper awoke and coughed immediately. The dust was bad today. Each breath was acrid and hot. The daylight shone bright through the crack in the door. He donned his mangy tank top and beige ripped and torn khakis. Then he covered himself in a reflective poncho. No sense getting another sunburn. The boils festering on his right arm reminded him of a few weeks ago when he made that mistake. The container door creaked and whistled on rusty hinges when he pushed it open. Sand and silt rushed into his lungs, barely filtered by the pale blue handkerchief fitted tightly against his face. He coughed again. His goggles, dusty and scratched, pushed hard against his eye-sockets as he strained to look out into the flat landscape. Dust devils roamed to and fro, hungrily searching for something to gobble up. Jasper's stomach growled, and an ache followed it. He knew he must find something, anything to eat. His canteen was nearly empty, the small distilling apparatus he made, had broken the day before.
By Aaron kaszas3 years ago in Fiction
süße Rache
Under the overcrowded streets of a place once called London, lies a city beneath a city. Past the jumbled mass of pestilence, damp earth, sewage, and rot deep in the tunnels lives a small population of people. We are called the Kanalisationsdreck or sewer filth in the Queen's english, that’s the title given to us by the Ober Erder but we prefer the term Kanalis. The OE are what’s left of the people who stayed above in 1944. The leaders of the OE thrive on corruption and the most depraved form of debauchery only the sickest minds could fathom. Due to over population they have gone to even more extreme measures to keep their sheep in line.
By Nicole Murray 3 years ago in Fiction