thriller
Before the Sun Arrived
The first morning it happened, Mara thought it was a trick of the streetlamp. She woke before her alarm, before the garbage trucks, before the first commuter train dragged its metallic sigh across the edge of town. The sky outside her bedroom window was still a dark, uncommitted blue. The kind of blue that hasn’t decided whether to become morning.
By Flower InBloom14 days ago in Fiction
The Baby in the Break Room
At 9:00 a.m., the siren sang its polite two notes—ding, ding—and the building returned its practiced silence. Mara set her mug on the corner of her desk where the ring stain had been carefully outlined with a thin strip of tape. She’d done it on her first day, back when she thought it mattered.
By Flower InBloom14 days ago in Fiction
The Last Memory: Chapters 3
Chapter Three The day had grown long and though the conversation with Pam was a nice change of pace after being alone in the cabin, Trenton was ready to go to bed. She had plans to go out and get a job the following day so she could start saving up money for her own place, and the excitement of that alone made her ready to rest up before the big day.
By Nicole Higginbotham-Hogue14 days ago in Fiction
INTERVIEW WITH A HOOKER
My name is Glen Kingston. I write articles for a magazine, which is actually a smutty rag. Paydays are usually pretty thin; not even enough coins to wear a hole in my pants pocket. I’m not proud of it but I have to somehow earn a living while writing the great Canadian novel—catchy title—might even use it. Continually coming up with good ideas for articles can get a touch difficult and when I get a brain freeze like I’ve been having lately, even sticking my head in a hot oven won’t thaw it out. So, what I occasionally do to get the grey cells working again is take myself out to meet some real live flesh and blood people, like this high-class, top of the line, if you have to ask how much she costs; then you can’t afford to hire this particular prostitute: Talulah Tight-Thighs.
By Len Sherman15 days ago in Fiction
The Last Voice Message
I wasn’t asleep. I never am anymore. Night has become a quiet battlefield for me. Thoughts line up like soldiers, memories attack without warning, and silence feels heavier than noise. So when the screen lit up, I stared at it for a long moment, unsure whether to breathe or panic.
By Salman Writes17 days ago in Fiction
Made for Love. Content Warning.
2086 — Tokiton, Eurasia. I open my eyes for the very first time. I take a look around. I can assume I am at a laboratory — pale white walls, big screens emitting blue light while displaying codes all over, at least five holo-boards with calculations written on them. And many, many silvery robot arms like a spider queen hovering above my face. What's a spider?
By Carolina Drouven17 days ago in Fiction
