Microfiction
The night everything changed. Content Warning.
As soon as I saw it, I knew what needed to be done. I left without a second thought. I ran straight into the pouring rain and was soaked within seconds. I shivered and pulled my cloak tighter, but the buttons were broken and I couldn’t close it properly. One was missing, and the rest hung from loose threads. A cold draft slipped through, the wind flowing freely.
By Minou J. Linde21 days ago in Fiction
THE SEA RAIDERS
Until the strange events at Sidmouth, the deep-sea creature known as Haploteuthis ferox was barely understood by science. Only fragments—tentacles found near the Azores and a decaying body discovered off Land’s End—hinted at its existence. Like most deep-sea cephalopods, it lived beyond the reach of nets and observation, known only through rare accidents. Zoologists could not explain how or why such creatures ever reached shallow waters.
By Faisal Khan25 days ago in Fiction
Love letters
It started as something innocent, but it progressed over time. Always beautiful and sweet, though. It became part of my daily routine – every morning I’d check my mailbox, and there it would be: a love letter. The person who sent them remained nameless and seemed to deliver the letters themselves. The envelopes were blank. No stamp. No information about the sender.
By Minou J. Linde25 days ago in Fiction
Hyperdemic
Journal entry (1) May 16th, 2067—Albuquerque NM It has been one hundred and sixty-two days since chaos deprived humans of the right to societal advancements. Man is just beginning to adjust to this new detriment causing upheavals in life's delicate flow.
By Lamar Wiggins25 days ago in Fiction
The Lesions of Devotion . Top Story - February 2026.
Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
By Paul Stewart25 days ago in Fiction
The Compliance of Ordinary Things
The first time the ceiling began to drip, everyone looked up like it was weather. It wasn’t water. It was thick and pale and slow, the color of skim milk left out too long. It gathered in a soft bead, swelled, and fell with a quiet, wet punctuation onto the carpet beside Reception.
By Lawrence Lease25 days ago in Fiction
The Moment Before Yes
The first sign wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t come with a bang, or a phone call, or a knock at the door. It came as a pause in the hallway—Mara’s key hovering in the air, the teeth pointed toward the lock like a question she hadn’t decided to ask.
By Lawrence Lease25 days ago in Fiction
