Top Stories
New stories you’ll love, handpicked for you by our team and updated daily.
Letters to Our Queer Youth
“Dear Queer Kiddo, Your existence is resistance to all those who tried to extinguish your flame. You are an endless fire that burns Your core shall not be shaken by voices who don’t understand Who never even try to understand That Pride, is not about them It’s about you. Your magic Your gifts Your love. Pride is your story to share on your terms And our job to celebrate and uplift Love always, Oneg”
By Oneg In The Arctic9 days ago in Pride
What I Would Do if I Joined Vocal Today
I'd do things a bit different if I joined Vocal today instead of February 2021. For one thing; the platform itself has changed quite a lot. Acting on input from its writer/creators many enhancements to the reporting, pay structure, engagement, and even ownership possibilities are now in place. (Yes- I am aware that not every change has been greeted with approval. This is not that: I am focusing on what I would do differently today.)
By Judey Kalchik 5 days ago in Writers
Conversion
It does not rain much in the Arizona desert. But when it does, the waters come hard and fast. Ancestral dry river beds scoured by flash floods bear witness to their force. A man caught between steep, rocky banks can drown on a cloudless sunny day, swept away by water racing across the desert, shed by thunderstorms rumbling beyond the horizon.
By Pitt Griffin6 days ago in Fiction
Llion the Brave Version 2
Her screams diminished as Llion was dragged away from the cell. The stench in the corridor was less but there was still damp, decay, defecation, death. His feet dragged, like a raggedy puppet, the guard either side of him holding him fast. He could feel their individual fingers digging into his scant flesh, leaving their impression on his bones.
By Rachel Deeming3 days ago in Fiction
Silence. Content Warning.
I don’t remember the day the world ended. But I do remember the day I noticed. That photo was it, but I did not know what it meant until I sat in my darkened bathroom, staring at the newly developed film. The street was neither empty, nor abandoned. It was dead. The colours of the flowers wrapped in that red ribbon caught my eye, and as I crouched to take that photo, I could hear only the lonely silence of a graveyard after dark.
By Alexander McEvoy5 days ago in Fiction
The Seventh Step
“It’s a different room every time. Sometimes it’s my grandma’s house from when I was little. Sometimes it’s my college apartment. Sometimes it’s somewhere unfamiliar, but always there are the stairs. I know I have to go up, but I’m afraid. I can feel my heart pounding and I feel sick, but I don’t know why. It’s like my body isn’t mine anymore, and I start up the stairs, and I’m thinking ‘No, stop!’ but I just keep going. When I get a ways up, I try to take another step but, instead, I fall backwards. I can feel myself in the air, just in a panic, nothing to hold on to and no way to stop, just falling, falling, falling until THUMP! And then I wake up.”
By Megan Malcolm6 days ago in Fiction