Short Story
The Last Act
Nobody knew what the Fire had been or where it had come from. The survivors he had encountered all had their theories. The government, aliens, terrorists. The Fire had terrified and taken indiscriminately. Two men might have been walking down the street and one of them would have disappeared in flames while the other was unscathed. None of it mattered, what did matter was that those that survived kept on living. He had been traveling for eight months now.
By Mike Saska5 years ago in Fiction
The History Hunter
The sinkhole must have formed since I was here yesterday. Slowing my breath to listen, I won’t enter until I’m sure there are no rats. Though Opal insists they’re blind, my experience suggests otherwise. They go crazy at any sort of light, sunlight or fire. It could be the heat or the crackling sound of whatever it burns, either way they’re nasty creatures. Always in hordes of twenty or more and vicious—I’d rather not deal with rats today.
By J. M. Tompkins5 years ago in Fiction
Ashes
“It’s almost over”. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell myself repeatedly day-in and day-out, since my wife and two sons died in my arms well over a year ago from the very start of this pointless conflict. I truly think about them every single day and each time I do, I can’t help but to also remember the faces of the heartless bastards who murdered them in the name of their ‘so-called’ “Divine Savior” of a leader. My country was once considered to be one of the most powerful and feared on Earth, militarily and in terms of widespread political influence, but as I look on, all I see now are the ashes and ruins of once-thriving cities and the dead corpses of the ones I previously cared so much about.
By Timothy Horton5 years ago in Fiction
A Heart Annihilated
He stared at the open locket; one half held a woman and the other a younger female. The man pulled it close to his heart and hugged it tightly. An arm lifted, it brought it to his lips. Tender kisses to each side preceded him closing the two metal halves. He slipped the heart shaped trinket over his neck and onto his chest. Whispered words of affection floated away on his breath.
By Seth Butterfield5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket
As he stared out across the remnants of the city, the wind swept through the derelict monoliths of days gone by. They reached ever upward, even as nature sought to reclaim what was once her own. The buildings screamed silently, unlike the wind that passed around their forms. An everlasting monument to mankind’s hubris. Even in death they stood as a perverse mockery of what once was. This place was now a grave and he had no business paying any respects to whatever inhabitants may have lingered there.
By 5 years ago in Fiction
Redlands
Twenty-eight years. That is how long Eilis Bridgeby has fought the pull of the woods before her, with its lush greens and cooling mist. Her clan called it the Wasteland, symbolic for all the opportunities that they would no longer have. She had only wandered near enough to feel the mist a handful of times, each time her fear reminding her not to stray too close, for even now, the beasts snarl, growl, and search for trespassers to prey upon.
By Randie Holdcraft5 years ago in Fiction
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Ten-year-old Me dragged from store to store. Momma has to buy her dresses, shoes, wigs and jewelry. I want to do my homework and read books of science, but I have to stand around waiting, bored and ignored. This small jewelry store is the boringest yet. Momma chats with the lone storekeeper lady and looks at ring after ring, necklace after necklace. One low countertop has several necklaces on top of the glass.
By Rick Riffel5 years ago in Fiction
The Others
Monday 11th June They were at the door again today. Knocking, shouting, begging to be let in. I’m not stupid, I didn’t let on that I heard them. I went to the window, peeled back a corner of the yellowed newspapers to try and get a look at them. Such cunning disguises they have! This time a dumpy looking ‘woman’ with straight, mousy brown hair and a crucifix round her neck. She left a box of something on the porch, but I shan’t go and see till nightfall. It’s not safe in daylight anymore.
By Angel Whelan5 years ago in Fiction
