Fiction
Calling all Ernest Hemingways, Toni Morrisons, Stephen Kings, Octavia Butlers, and James Baldwins of the world - Fiction is the place for your stories to run wild.
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Stories
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- 37,303
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Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Belle of the Bayou
Bad move, cher. Not just the slip of her kitten heel on the rainy February cobblestones in the Fourth Ward. She got caught snooping. Detective Deleon clucked and strutted like a rooster in his rush to clear her from the scene, waving cigar smoke to and fro as he gesticulated amid the thick air of the speak easy. An experienced crime reporter, Marie knew better than to let the coppers catch her on the wrong side of the line, but curiosity had gotten the better of her.
By Maia Gadwall the metAlchemist3 days ago in Fiction
Veil of Subconscious Awakening
Images slide behind my eyelids like film cadres, bursting with meanings. In one moment, I’m speeding down the highway, making the speedometer swing wildly like a frantic pendulum. The next moment, I’m plunging from a falling plane, slowly crashing earthward. At home, I meet black cat’s green, googly eyes staring at me from the cavernous hollowness of the kitchen. When I turn for a moment, it disappears, and all I can see is a pair of blue suede shoes set up against the wall. I pick them up and put them on. When I glimpse at them again, they’ve become black as night, making me blink and flinch.
By Moon Desert3 days ago in Fiction
Magic
Note from the Author: I want to let you know that this is an unusual story, and it has been written purely from whatever is in my unconscious mind, because before I start writing, I get into a flow state that reaches my unconsciousness. I also write in my subconscious mind, which is like a mid-flow state between the conscious and unconscious mind.
By Denise Larkin3 days ago in Fiction
Winterthorne
Winterthorne stood alone at the edge of the park. The beautiful snow that had surrounded him was all trampled now, from the feet of all of the children who had built him. He missed the sparkly clean snow blanket, but he was happy that so many children had come out to make him.
By Laura DePace4 days ago in Fiction
Echoes
I stepped carefully around the corner, the familiar sights and sounds hitting me like a brick to the face. My eyes watered. I could practically see us, all of us, back then, clustered around the outdoor tables in front of the pizza shop, the bar, the coffee shop. I could smell the various stalls from the events we’d been to on this street. I could taste the churros and nachos.
By Phoenixica244 days ago in Fiction
Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Cassian-13. Content Warning.
High Dominion Calendar date: day 106 of the year 237 The night’s humidity stressed every pressure point of Cassian-13’s enhancements, especially his right shoulder. Maybe the clouds would burst. That might help. As would upgrades. But hunters at the end of their lifecycle received standard policy rejections regardless of the requests. Assholes.
By Jean-Francois Lamotheabout an hour ago in Fiction
A Single Mother & A Stranger Boy – An Unexpected Love Story
It was raining that evening—the kind of rain that makes everything feel heavier than usual. Ayaan stood under a small café shed, watching the droplets hit the ground like broken memories. He wasn’t waiting for anyone. He never was. Life had taught him to keep moving without expectations. That’s when he saw her. She rushed in, holding her child close to her chest, her hair slightly messy, her face tired—but still… beautiful in a way that didn’t try to impress anyone. “Can we sit here?” she asked softly, pointing to the empty chair beside him. Ayaan nodded. Her son, maybe five years old, clung to her arm. She smiled at him gently, brushing his hair back. “You’re safe, sweetheart.” There was something about her voice… warm, protective, yet hiding a quiet sadness. Minutes passed in silence. Rain poured harder. “You come here often?” Ayaan finally asked. She let out a small laugh. “No… life doesn’t really give me that luxury.” He smiled. “Yeah… I get that.” She looked at him for a moment, studying his face like she was trying to understand something deeper. “I’m Sara,” she said. “Ayaan.” And just like that, something shifted. The next few days, Ayaan kept coming back to that café. Not because he liked the coffee… but because somewhere deep inside, he hoped she would be there again. And she was. Same corner. Same quiet strength. But this time, she smiled first. “You again?” “Maybe I like the rain,” he said. “Or maybe you like coincidences.” “Or maybe… I like conversations that haven’t finished yet.” She looked away, hiding a small smile. Days turned into weeks. Their conversations grew longer. Deeper. He learned she was a single mother. Her husband had left years ago. No explanations. No support. Just silence. “I stopped waiting for him,” she said one evening. “But I think a part of me stopped waiting for everything else too.” Ayaan didn’t say anything. He just listened. Because sometimes, being heard is more powerful than being fixed. One night, the café was closing early. Rain had started again. “Let me drop you home,” Ayaan offered. She hesitated. “I don’t usually trust people easily.” “I’m not ‘people’ anymore, remember?” he smiled. She looked at him… and for the first time, she didn’t say no. Her house was simple. Quiet. Her son had already fallen asleep in the car, and Ayaan carried him inside carefully. “Thank you,” she whispered. Their eyes met. And for a moment… the world outside disappeared. There was something in the air. Something unspoken. She stepped back. “I should… go inside.” “Yeah… you should.” But neither of them moved. Weeks passed. The distance between them slowly faded. Late-night calls turned into long walks. Casual smiles turned into lingering glances. One evening, sitting on a bench under dim streetlights, she finally said it: “You know this isn’t simple, right?” “I never wanted simple.” “I have responsibilities. A child. A past…” “And I’m not scared of any of that.” She looked at him, almost searching for doubt. But there was none. “Why?” she asked softly. Ayaan took a deep breath. “Because when I’m with you… everything feels real. Not perfect. Not easy. But real.” Her eyes filled with emotion. “No one has said that to me in a long time.” That night, something changed. Not suddenly. Not dramatically. But deeply. They didn’t rush into anything. Their connection wasn’t built on just attraction—it was built on understanding. But yes… there was attraction. The kind that makes your heartbeat louder when they’re close. The kind that makes silence feel heavy. One evening, as they stood in her living room, just talking… she stepped closer. “You’re dangerous,” she whispered. “Why?” “Because you make me feel things I promised myself I’d never feel again.” Ayaan didn’t respond. He just looked at her. And that was enough. She didn’t step away this time. Their relationship wasn’t perfect. There were doubts. Fears. Moments when she pulled away, afraid of losing everything again. “People like me don’t get happy endings,” she said once. Ayaan smiled gently. “Then let’s not call it an ending. Let’s just call it… now.” Her son started calling him “Ayaan bhai” at first… then slowly, just “Ayaan.” And somehow, without forcing anything, they became something like a family. Not by name. But by feeling. One rainy evening, just like the first day they met, they sat together at the café. “You know,” she said, “I used to hate the rain.” “Why?” “Because it reminded me of everything I lost.” “And now?” She looked at him… smiling softly. “Now it reminds me of everything I found.” Ayaan leaned back, watching the rain fall. Life hadn’t become easier. But it had become meaningful. And sometimes… that’s more than enough.
By Umar Farooqabout 2 hours ago in Fiction
What on Earth is He Doing?!
What On Earth Is He Doing? Or:
By Kariisa Buskellabout 3 hours ago in Fiction
Beginner's Luck: Critical Mass 5
The Librarian was mentally exhausted from the emotional trauma of the day. He gritted his teeth realizing that they were not about to execute the beast in front of him. What was it that the golem had called it? A Derboul? Knowing the name of the Outsiders didn't make them any less despicable. His body was also exhausted and the number of places across his being that began to scream at him increased by the minute as his adrenaline wore off. As much as he hated the idea of keeping the invader alive, he had to admit it was a genius idea: Use the enemy as combat training for the golem Q and for the boy Fluke. It was a good idea, but he didn't have to like the idea no matter how good it was.
By Everett Scaifeabout 3 hours ago in Fiction
Creators We’re Loving
The creative faces behind your favorite stories.
Leeza-Bridget Cooper
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Ian Read
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Made in DNA
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T. E. Door
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Denise E Lindquist
1246 published stories
Heather Hubler
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Lamar Wiggins
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Maddy Haywood
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55 published stories
Emilie Turner
114 published stories
