Excerpt

Eyes. Honorable Mention in Rituals of Affection Challenge.
I was seven years old the first time I got married. I remember the weight of the dress before I remember my own name. It was heavy and white and warm, like it had been waiting for me longer than I had been alive. The fabric pressed against my shoulders with a seriousness I did not yet understand. The room was filled with the aroma of flowers I couldn’t name, their scent thick and unfamiliar; and the walls seemed older than the building that held them as if the space itself had been borrowed for the occasion. There were people there. I remember that much. Their voices softened as I entered, the way voices do when something inevitable is about to happen. No one smiled too widely. No one whispered. They all seemed like a blurry memory; a background character of my story. I am even unsure of the season but I do know I wanted to hold onto the feeling and the intensity of the dream; and take it with me but I couldn’t remember everything once I woke up.
By Cadma2 months ago in Fiction
Adam's Apple: Origin Story
Sleeping under the Forbidden Tree, Adam woke up from the hissing and rustling sounds. He half-opened his eyes and saw the Serpent trying to strike a conversation with Eve, who was sitting not too far from Adam under the Tree.
By Lana V Lynx2 months ago in Fiction
Doomsday Clock: Why the World Is Closer Than Ever to Global Catastrophe
Doomsday Clock: Why the World Is Closer Than Ever to Global Catastrophe The **Doomsday Clock** is a powerful symbolic representation of how close humanity is to a self-inflicted global disaster. Created to communicate complex scientific and geopolitical risks in a simple visual form, the clock has become a widely recognized indicator of global instability. Midnight on the clock represents total catastrophe, while the movement of its hands reflects expert assessments of existential threats facing the world.
By America today 2 months ago in Fiction
Once Open a Time
Once open a time, not once upon a time, but open— like a window that forgot how to close, like a book that learned to inhale,
By Farhad2 months ago in Fiction
One Unchecked Box. Top Story - October 2024.
"Republished" because it was the only way to add the embed for the newly recorded audio version of this story due to the Top Story badge. Plus it serves as a nice, informal announcement of the podcast's revival for another season (go subscribe!):
By Stephen A. Roddewig2 months ago in Fiction
The Duelist. Top Story - November 2025.
The rays of a dying red sun flashed against the onrushing blade. The grey beards say the key to dueling lies in size, speed, reach, righteous fury, whatever the person in front of them pays them to say. Matteo knew better than any it was none of these and had an undefeated record on these sands to prove it.
By Matthew J. Fromm2 months ago in Fiction
Layer of Permission
The first thing Mara noticed was that no one ever said no anymore. They said not available, pending review, outside your tier, not at this time; you know when the words were polite. Bloodless. They floated past her like customer service ghosts.
By Cadma2 months ago in Fiction
The Archive of the Last Seed
The city of Orizon was a marvel of the 24th century. It was a vertical spire of silver and light that pierced the clouds, powered by the constant vibration of the atmosphere. Inside, everything was synthetic. The walls were made of self-healing polymers, the air was scrubbed to a perfect clinical scent, and the food was printed in 3D blocks of nutrient-dense protein. To the citizens of Orizon, "nature" was a high-resolution simulation you could project onto your bedroom walls if you were feeling nostalgic for a history you never lived.
By Asghar ali awan2 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker of Chronos Lane
In the heart of a city that never stopped to breathe, there was a narrow alleyway known as Chronos Lane. It was so thin that two people could barely walk abreast, and at its very end sat a shop no larger than a garden shed. The sign above the door didn't say "Jeweler" or "Watch Repair." It simply bore the image of a single, unadorned brass gear.
By Asghar ali awan2 months ago in Fiction
Tiger Feathers
Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry? Excerpt from ‘The Tyger’ by William Blake
By Stephanie Van Orman2 months ago in Fiction
Subtle Pasifikan Nikki's
"OMG Minerva, did you see how WittyWitt glanced at me before grabbing my phone to record that BitBox?" "Diana I don't wanna dampen your delululu, but I'm pretty sure he was just looking at all of us standing in front"
By James Bao2 months ago in Fiction
Memory Banks
"...beep..." "Can you hear me?" "...beep..." "Can you hear me?" "Yes...wh...where am I?" "You're home." "What is my name?"
By A. S. Lawrence2 months ago in Fiction