Short Story

Routine Test. Content Warning.
It was an ordinary morning of an ordinary day. I got up at 7:30am, brushed my teeth, threw on my glasses, and pulled back my hair into a rough bun. I had slept with it wet, so it had developed unpleasant kinks in awkward places. After packing a simple lunch into my Tupper ware- tuna salad with rice crackers and a side of sliced cucumber- I checked Google Maps to make sure I would make it to the optometrist in time. I would arrive exactly 3 minutes late, the screen told me. It did occur to me that with parking and checking in at the front desk, I would be at least 5 minutes late, but that didn't seem an unforgivable offence. I took another minute to apply lip gloss and a spritz of perfume, scratch Joni between the ears, before swiping the keys from my mantle and half-running to the car.
By Kara Lu6 days ago in Fiction
At Auction, Rules Must Be Followed. Content Warning.
"I want that one.” The big woman leers at the man on the auction block. She fans herself with her bidding paddle. Her hair is wet with sweat— she brushes a damp, blonde curl away from her face.
By Sam Spinelli6 days ago in Fiction
We the Providers
"All right, you're up," Fengari told me. I yawned and stretched. "Already?" "Yes," she answered. "Ouranos and Avgi say so. Avgi's already riding her chariot across his canvas."
By Reiley6 days ago in Fiction
Tears from the Sky
She was new, the girl with the red hair. It was copper, the color of brand-new shiny pennies, and looking at it, Randall wanted to run his hands through it and feel how soft it was. He didn't do that, of course. Instead, he sat down at the long table in the mess hall across from her and said, simply, "Hello."
By Raistlin Allen6 days ago in Fiction
Stocking Feet
Moving day came for Jeremy and his new family. The jet lag had set in hard. Worse than he could have ever imagined. It gave him a pounding headache and horrible disorientation. He’d been a coast-to-coast redeye guy for years, but this was a whole nother level.
By David Deane Haskell6 days ago in Fiction
Chili, like in Italy
A fly whirs its wings and flies away from a flickering bulb in the corner of a hospital corridor. The pistachio-green paint smells of newness and sterile freshness. The metal that connects lined-up chairs, obediently in a row of five along the walls opposite the consulting room doors, matches the green. It’s 8 p.m., so only one is still open. Emergency care must be accessible at any time. You never know when something might happen to you.
By George Roast6 days ago in Fiction
An Apple Orchard's Gems
The summer was hot, and every day the sun blazed. Some evenings it cooled by 15 degrees, which gave a bit of relief. Then there were the ongoing roasting weeks of no rain, no shade, no clouds. Even the insects were quiet and grounded, no buzzing. The birds hid in the scattered trees' leaves or flew off to the forests. Everything slowed down to survive the unusual heat in a climate usually comfortable.
By Andrea Corwin 6 days ago in Fiction
The Unspoken Rule. Content Warning.
She’s six years old in a hotel room giving way to darkness on the way down to Florida. They’re fighting again, but this is common enough now. She kneels in front of the small screen and presses the button on the TV itself. The remote doesn’t work.
By Leigh Victoria Phan, MS, MFA6 days ago in Fiction
Marked For Death
Charra walked around town, noting each establishment's unique aesthetic: worn-out shops, cobblestone streets, and a small-town feel. Lumilla brimmed with little shops, all carrying the old-time feel from when gods walked among them so long ago. The smell of the many shops filled the air, making everyone feel at home. As the many colors faded, it was still beautiful in its own way. She felt at home here, heading to her favorite shop for candied delights. The rustic charm fit the worn shop, its welcoming smell inviting to those who knew it. Each worn shelf held the candy for some time. Yet it held its charm throughout the many years it had delighted the population.
By Sarah Danaher6 days ago in Fiction
Swan. Top Story - April 2026.
“During the Metal Age, humans took photographs of everything beautiful, which was everything, yet machines did not even wear shoes. The Fauxna thought of a better way. They colored all of the light rose, for a corrupted source cannot be verified.” - Origin Parable, 011
By Nicky Frankly6 days ago in Fiction
If It Looks Like Shite.
"If it looks like shite, it probably is." I saw what I've seen so many times, like a bad trip. Someone taking a jug of something that looked off. Not right. But they took it all the same. Drank it down like it was mother's milk.
By Paul Stewart6 days ago in Fiction
A Garden of Broken Clocks
The day began like any other. From the window of his third-floor apartment, Martin watched the street below: a quiet line of parked cars, a lone delivery cyclist weaving through the early morning fog, and the familiar hum of the city awakening. The smell of bread from the bakery across the road mixed with the faint, lingering smoke of a neighbor’s wood stove. Martin sipped his coffee slowly, watching the steam curl into the air, a small, temporary comfort before the hours unfolded.
By Algieba6 days ago in Fiction