Short Story

Dieselpunk Opera
DIESELPUNK OPERA by Jared H. Mehraban LAST LOG SALVAGED FROM ANCIENT EARTH RELIC. TRANSLATED DATA BY FEMALE HUMAN A.I. CONTAINED IN THE RELIC:
By Jared Hashemi Mehraban5 years ago in Fiction
Fallen
You know of the girl in the moon right? That’s a question I hear by my bedside. Every so often. Nearly every night. The room goes quiet and still or so I’ve been told because that’s how the story goes.
By Telicia Darius 5 years ago in Fiction
The Heart Lottery
I’d been dreading this day my whole life. Well, at least once I was old enough to be told what would happen the 16th year on the date of my birth. I can’t remember exactly how old I was, but it was somewhere between six and seven. My mother made it seem almost like a fairy tale. It wasn’t until I got older that I discovered the grim reality of it all.
By Jude Liebermann5 years ago in Fiction
She So Wishes It Didn't
The world still turns. The seasons still come, and the seasons still go. Autumn changes the color of the leaves, and with winter comes the cold and the snow. In spring, the world cheers at the sight of blossoming flowers and new beginnings. And then in summer, laughter fills and lingers in the air. The world still turns.
By Author Alice VL5 years ago in Fiction
The Reign of the Demon Queen
The black, toiling skies stretched into the distance—a never ending oppression. There was nowhere to run, not anymore. The Demon Queen would choke the world with her hatred unless Johnnie could achieve the impossible this day.
By Claude McKenna5 years ago in Fiction
Thomas
Yesterday she was here. I was counting the freckles on her back, mapping out the constellations that fell between them. I was kissing her neck and pouring hot coffee and things were sweet.
By amy stewart5 years ago in Fiction
A Bitter End
1 year ago She stood tall upon the balcony, eyes shining wide as majestic flames engulfed her city below. They hadn’t believed in her power. No, instead they had belittled her, dismissed her as nothing but a fragile and naive woman destined to remain obedient by the side of a man - a man who would be worth more to society than she ever could be. But now, as their cries of pain shattered through the air, the immense heat penetrating their flesh and dissipating every fibre of their beings, she knew she was powerful. She had finally made them see. Her hands remained steady on the railing, teeth glistening like pearlescent snow as she smiled. For the first time in her life, she was truly satisfied. It was an end, an end to the prejudice, discrimination, injustice and abuse that had plagued her city and sucked out all humanity like a leech. An end to the cruelty that had spread and contaminated the minds of the inhabitants. This would be the rebirth of a nation. Her nation, built in her vision. A nation where all would be pure and there would be no darkness. She would make sure of it.
By Emma Q5 years ago in Fiction
You Can't Keep a Good Dog Down
The dog's howl cut through my sleep and had me instantly awake. I opened my eyes and made out a dark shape standing on my bed. Totally disorientated, I flailed out with my hand and managed to hit the light switch. The light revealed a large Springer Spaniel standing on my bed.
By Robert Michael Warr5 years ago in Fiction
Kim
A wartime army camp is no place for a little girl. It's no place for any child, but it didn't stop the children from coming.
By Misty Rae5 years ago in Fiction
The Ember
Lorenzo stepped away from his dyes and plucked the picture from the ground. Frowning, he tossed it away again, clicking his tongue. In the bustling marketplace, the picture was kicked and stepped on and brushed along this way and that. Anulti stepped away from her butcher’s booth to pick it up. Her brow furrowed as she studied with curious eyes. She slipped it into her pocket. Perhaps, she would manage to find its owner.
By Nicholas D Greiner 5 years ago in Fiction
One Step More
He heavily drug one foot in front of the other, as the weight of the heat danced on the distorted horizon. On and on the figure marched through the sweltering heat of the day. He had been walking for… He wasn’t sure. It had been two and a half days in truth. But the unrelenting sting of the sun had burnt the truth out of his mind. It had burned away the thought of her green eyes, and the last night he had spent in the company of humans. It had burned away the nightmare that was the last two nights. Burned away the glowing white eyes in the darkness of the decrepit buildings they had taken refuge in. Burned away the screams of the children and the horrible thrashing and tearing sounds that echoed out of the darkness after they were silent. All of it, burned away by one of the only real things that existed here. Heat. With all of his thoughts gone there was only to walk. One step. Then, one step. On and on until… He thought he saw a tree.
By Alexander Cantrell5 years ago in Fiction
The Anniversary
The red marker dangled at the end of a strand of 550 cord, bouncing back and forth in the breeze of the recycled air. Jim Green picked up the marker and marked another day off the calendar. Today’s date was circled in the same red. Diagonally across the block was written “anniversary” in small, succinct letters.
By Jon Messenger5 years ago in Fiction