Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Darkest Side Of The Moon,
The Darkest Side Of The Moon, There was never anything comforting about the moon after that night. People look up and see something distant, something quiet, but they only ever see the part that allows itself to be seen. No one talks about the other side, the part that never turns, the part that keeps itself hidden. I did not think about it either, not until it found its way into my life without asking.
By George’s Girl 2026 about 23 hours ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '21
Finally, as they signed off, both women lingered for a moment, their faces still illuminated by the gentle glow of their laptops. “I’m really excited, Joan,” Megan said, her voice soft but sincere, “It feels like we’re not just planning an outfit, but stepping into a chapter of our lives together.” Joan’s reply was equally heartfelt, “Exactly—this reunion will be a celebration of everything we’ve become, and I can’t wait to see you, not just in a dress, but as the confident, radiant woman you are.” With that, the Zoom call ended, leaving each woman with a sense of anticipation and a clear vision of the attire that would not only dress their bodies but also reflect the journey they had traveled side by side for so many years.
By Forest Greenabout 23 hours ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '21
“Exactly,” she said, “we need something that says ‘we’re here, we’ve grown, but we still have a sense of fun.’ Maybe a subtle accent—like a lace overlay or a delicate brooch—could add that touch without overwhelming the look.” As they exchanged ideas, the duo began to outline a plan that balanced their desire to honor their past selves while showcasing the sophisticated women they had become, each suggesting a small victory against the lingering self‑consciousness that often accompanies reunions.
By Forest Greenabout 23 hours ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '21
Finally, as the Zoom window began to flicker with the inevitable sign‑off prompts, both women shared a moment of quiet satisfaction. Joan smiled, “Emily, I think we’ve turned a potential conflict into an opportunity for connection.” Emily returned the grin, replying, “Exactly—this reunion will be more than a look back; it’ll be a celebration of where we are now, and the next chapter for our kids.” They exchanged virtual high‑fives, promised to reconvene in a few days to finalize the invitations, and ended the call with a hearty, “See you at the banquet hall—prom night and all!” The screen faded to black, but the excitement lingered, a testament to their collaborative spirit and the promise that the upcoming reunion, even sharing a date with the senior prom, would be an unforgettable night that bridged generations and honored every cherished memory.
By Forest Greenabout 23 hours ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '21
They agreed to incorporate a “Throwback Corner” featuring a slideshow of old photos, yearbook excerpts, and perhaps even a brief reenactment of that rooftop movie night, to give attendees a tangible link to the cherished moments that defined their youth.
By Forest Greenabout 23 hours ago in Fiction
Magic - Chapter Two
Author's note: Today, my stream of consciousness flows easily without having to think through the story. Therefore, I am letting my subconscious do the work. I am writing this after writing the following, which you will soon read, and I want to mention that everything I have written so far is purely from my subconscious mind. I have not planned the plot, especially what will happen in today's chapter; you will wonder if I have planned this particular incident. The answer is 'No, I have not'. To be honest, it just came into my mind rather abruptly as I was writing, and that's how the subconscious usually works. I hope you understand what I am saying. If you don't, I recommend you read the book The Power of Your Subconscious Mind by Joseph Murphy.
By Denise Larkina day ago in Fiction
Web of Freedom
There is a peculiar kind of freedom that does not liberate—it suspends. Imagine, for a moment, a world not built from soil or stone, but from threads. Fine, nearly invisible strands stretch in every direction, catching light in ways that make them appear divine. This world was not constructed by human hands, nor by any god one might name in prayer. It was spun—delicately, deliberately—by something ancient and precise. A spider, if you will. It called itself Freedom.
By LUNA EDITHa day ago in Fiction
Tempest of Iron Tides
The Gathering Storm The ocean had always belonged to no one—and yet, men had tried for centuries to claim it. Captain Elian Voss stood at the prow of the warship Aegis Valor, his coat snapping in the rising wind. Before him stretched an endless expanse of darkening water, the horizon swallowed by a wall of storm clouds. The air smelled of salt, oil, and something metallic—like the promise of blood.
By Sahir E Shafqata day ago in Fiction
Bacon. Top Story - April 2026. Content Warning.
Satan, laughing, spreads his wings. He launches into an atmosphere riddled with smoke, soot, and ash. He feels the radiation from a thousand fallen nukes. For humanity, it’s certain death. For him, it’s like bathing in a sauna. He laughs again at the thought.
By C. Rommial Butlera day ago in Fiction
The Painting That Aged Instead of Her 🎨
THE PORTRAIT IN THE ATTIC 🖼️ When renowned artist Julian Reeves painted his girlfriend Celeste's portrait during the summer of 2019, he did not intend to create anything supernatural or extraordinary, just an oil painting of the woman he loved captured in the golden light of their Brooklyn apartment during the happiest period of their relationship, but the painting which took three months to complete and which Julian considered his finest work developed a quality that neither of them could explain and that would eventually destroy their relationship and transform their understanding of love, beauty, and the terrible cost of trying to preserve something that is meant to change 🎨
By The Curious Writera day ago in Fiction
Easter Eggs
Professor Schwartz, the world’s leading paleontologist, stared at the three T-Rex femur bones, each six feet one inch long and identical in every way. He scratched his head while reviewing the measurements for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Simply not possible. What am I missing?” he said to himself.
By Steve Lancea day ago in Fiction
