Microfiction
The Moment Before You Finally Move
The first sign wasn’t a sound. It was the way the light behaved. Mara noticed it while she stood in her kitchen with the faucet running too long, her hands held under the stream like she could rinse off a thought. The morning should have been clean and ordinary—gray Dallas daylight, thin and patient, the neighbor’s sprinkler ticking somewhere outside—but the sunlight coming through the blinds didn’t land right. It didn’t stripe the counter in neat bars. It hovered, softened, like it was deciding whether to commit.
By Lawrence Leaseabout a month ago in Fiction
The Thread That Heroes Don’t See
They never tell you that thread has a temperature. In the songs, it is just Ariadne’s thread — neat, shining, simple, a lifeline that behaves exactly as it should. A straight, obedient answer to a crooked, impossible problem.
By Lawrence Leaseabout a month ago in Fiction
The Seventh-Floor Pause
The elevator in the Rookery Building was older than the people who rode it. The brass numbers above the door had dulled into the color of old pennies, and the mirror at the back held everyone’s face a second too long, like it was deciding whether to keep them.
By Lawrence Leaseabout a month ago in Fiction
The night everything changed. Content Warning.
As soon as I saw it, I knew what needed to be done. I left without a second thought. I ran straight into the pouring rain and was soaked within seconds. I shivered and pulled my cloak tighter, but the buttons were broken and I couldn’t close it properly. One was missing, and the rest hung from loose threads. A cold draft slipped through, the wind flowing freely.
By Minou J. Lindeabout a month ago in Fiction
THE SEA RAIDERS
Until the strange events at Sidmouth, the deep-sea creature known as Haploteuthis ferox was barely understood by science. Only fragments—tentacles found near the Azores and a decaying body discovered off Land’s End—hinted at its existence. Like most deep-sea cephalopods, it lived beyond the reach of nets and observation, known only through rare accidents. Zoologists could not explain how or why such creatures ever reached shallow waters.
By Amelia Miller2 months ago in Fiction
Love letters
It started as something innocent, but it progressed over time. Always beautiful and sweet, though. It became part of my daily routine – every morning I’d check my mailbox, and there it would be: a love letter. The person who sent them remained nameless and seemed to deliver the letters themselves. The envelopes were blank. No stamp. No information about the sender.
By Minou J. Linde2 months ago in Fiction
