Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Fiction.

Magpie. AI-Generated.
The transition from the Bureau of Magical Regulation to Leo Vance’s sleek, silver SUV was a masterclass in sensory whiplash. The Bureau smelled of industrial floor cleaner and the ozone-heavy discharge of containment fields; Leo’s car smelled of expensive sandalwood and the faint, artificial scent of 'New Car' misted from a hidden vent. Merlina sat in the passenger seat, her wrists still heavy with the iron cuffs, though the chain connecting them to her waist had been shortened to allow for a semblance of comfortable posture. Leo hummed a melody that didn't quite resolve, his fingers tapping the leather-wrapped steering wheel in a rhythm that felt mathematically precise.
By Eris Willowabout 7 hours ago in Fiction
A Silence Heavier Than the Sky
What happens when humanity no longer needs God? The sky is still there… but no one is looking up. Angels fall silent. Machines begin to think.
By Ebrahim Parsaabout 7 hours ago in Fiction
Before the Spell Settles
They noticed it first in the way the smoke behaved. It was early enough in the morning that even the birds were just waking up. The sky had the color of something not yet decided — not quite gray, not quite blue. The thin column of incense rising from the chipped ceramic bowl on the windowsill should have gone straight up, as it always did when the air was still.
By Ivy Roseabout 7 hours ago in Fiction
Magpie. AI-Generated.
The fluorescent lights of the Bureau of Magical Regulation hummed with a frequency that felt like a needle scratching against the inside of Merlina’s skull. It was a sterile, clean sound—the sound of a world that had successfully scrubbed the blood off its hands and replaced it with industrial-grade disinfectant. Merlina sat on a cold steel bench, her wrists bound by damp-dampening shackles that felt like lead weights. Around her neck, the heavy iron collar of the BMR pulsed with a faint, rhythmic violet light, a constant reminder that her internal clock was no longer her own. To the government, she was a ‘Unit.’ To the citizens, she was a ‘Resource.’ To herself, she was a magpie caught in a cage of high-fidelity glass.
By Eris Willowabout 8 hours ago in Fiction
Turquoise Clouds in a Green Sky
“I always remember the first time I saw the green sky and the turquoise clouds skating across it.” These words had stayed with Alice Barrett for two years. She’d been six- years-old and snuggled next to her great-grandmother, known to nearly all the family as Granny Rose, on a large, rather uncomfortable armchair. Granny Rose had been telling her a story, at least that’s what Alice believed, but it was a strange memory, blurry apart from those few words.
By Matthew Bathamabout 8 hours ago in Fiction
Wishing Well. Top Story - March 2026.
Time is a tape measure, marked and countable but foldable back upon itself. The metal lip latches feebly, retracts with a snap, and nips your thumb.
By Nicky Franklyabout 8 hours ago in Fiction
America the Beautiful
The Quaker Meeting House had sat empty since Reconstitutionalization three years prior. An unkempt, overgrown lawn and increasingly feral flowerbeds surrounded the small, white-walled building, which, with its quaintly shingled sides now flaking, and picturesque little stone chimney graffitied, was slowly being swallowed by the forest it abutted. Even in its current, uncared for state, it bothered Jack to see Todd and his friends throwing rocks through the windows. He always lingered after school so as to avoid walking home in the presence of the older boys. Usually, he had the wherewithal to keep an eye open ahead for them as he walked, but had been distracted by issues with his favorite music channels and had not seen them standing in the knee-deep grass. He’d been too busy trying to figure out why many of his favorite songs seemed suddenly unavailable on any streaming service.
By J. Otis Haasabout 8 hours ago in Fiction
The Interview
It has been raining for 27 miles. Yes, I know that isn't a timeframe, but if Han Solo can use parsec and be understood then I can use a Michigan highway mile to explain that it has been raining for a damned long time.
By Judey Kalchik about 8 hours ago in Fiction
Fear Controlled Me for Years — Until That Day. AI-Generated.
I didn’t know when fear first moved in. It didn’t arrive like a storm. There was no dramatic entrance, no single moment I could point to and say, that’s when it began. It came quietly—like a draft through a window you forgot to close.
By Peterabout 8 hours ago in Fiction
I Stopped Waiting for Opportunity — I Started Creating It. AI-Generated.
I used to believe in timing. Not in the mystical, poetic way people write about in books, but in the practical, almost superstitious way that keeps you still. I believed the right moment would come, like a train pulling into a station—predictable, inevitable, meant for me.
By Peterabout 8 hours ago in Fiction
Circles
She thumbed through the yearbook until she found his face. Circling it with a red sharpie, she remembered a time she’d do the same to her friends, her crushes. Harmless pre-summer fun.
By Matthew J. Frommabout 9 hours ago in Fiction
A Grave Concern
It was a Tuesday afternoon. The clock on the microwave read twelve o’clock. Outside, the clouds were darker than usual, and while there was no scorching sun that day, nor had the precipitation yet begun, there was still enough humidity to leave any person that wandered outside drenched in sweat.
By Jebus! about 9 hours ago in Fiction