Top Stories

Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.

The Diary of A Russian Immigrant Child: Anastasia Sokolov 1900
The Diary of A Russian Immigrant Child: Anastasia Sokolov 1900 by Astrid (Toby) Fowler
By Dan R Fowler4 years ago in Fiction
The Last Train
I struggle to open my eyes …but they remain closed…wanting to call out but I have no voice…I’m on a train…I recognize the movement...I’m floating…prone on a feather-soft bed…surrounded by white nothingness…no sound… no smells…only gentle movement of the train rushing through white fog back to the beginning…
By Lea Waske 4 years ago in Fiction
Crossroads. Runner-Up in The Runaway Train Challenge.
I wake to the purring engine of a train. The seat I’m occupying is one beside a window. Ivory clouds press against the glass, obscuring my view of the world beyond. Grogginess permeates my mind, blurs my ability to grasp why I am on a train and where said train could possibly be going.
By Abrianna Leaming4 years ago in Fiction
Puny humans, let's start again.
Should he have brought a gift? Scott stood at the bottom of the stairwell, wishing he had a smoke. It had been twelve years since his last one, and twenty since his pack-a-day habit, and lord, some cravings ought to stay gone.
By Spencer Reaves4 years ago in Fiction
Crazy Mr. Gould
A homeless man bumped into me today at the bank. I found it ironic to see that even a penniless man needs a bank account. Must have been a good day panhandling, I thought. Though I was a good ten feet from the man, his unbearable stench made its presence known. He smelled of stagnant water and burnt trash. I couldn’t help but breathe through my mouth and I could hear the woman behind me follow suit.
By Ruban Evets4 years ago in Fiction
Best Friends Forever
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The honey toned flicker on the emerald algae-stained glass, seemed somewhat inviting as the last light of dawn sank behind the trees. The once azure blue sky peeking through the fresh and luscious canopy had become a faded greyish-lilac shade and the trees had merged into one collective jet-black silhouette. The thick, warm air of the day was replaced with a cold clamminess that made the palms feel stone cold to the touch. Of course, as inviting as the warm little fairy-tale cabin seemed, not one decent soul living in Bedshire would lay their hands on its worn wooden frame, let alone enter it. The person inside was an outsider.
By Abi Smith4 years ago in Fiction
Death Roe
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It was so faint that Riley hadn’t seen the glow until she was only a few steps away. Her foot was already firmly planted on a floorboard on the back porch when the dim flame caught her eye. Its tiny golden teardrop was poised without the slightest flicker deep within the room behind the window. She froze immediately anticipating the low groan of the old termite infested wood beneath her foot. Like a deer in the woods picking up the sound of a possible predator, her body became rigid, stiff, eyes wide with fear, warm air tickling her nostrils as she tightly kept her lips sealed.
By SM Nolan4 years ago in Fiction
Challenged Writing
Who knew Challenged Writing was a thing. Writing can be a challenge as anyone knows, but in this case, the word challenge is more like a prompt or perhaps a dare or call to action.
By Pam Reeder4 years ago in Fiction
Hammer
I've been told I'm a hammer. I have a flat face, a prong in my back, and a handle to hold so I'm a hammer. But I'm not a good one cause I have doubt and once you do that you aren't a good hammer anymore.
By Dylan Ritch4 years ago in Fiction
All Hallow's Eve
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Abandoned… Or so everyone in town had thought.
By Joseph A Todaro4 years ago in Fiction
Final Journal
Recording 1 [Crackling, soft muttering sounds] Is this thing on? Dang it all, this thing is older than I am. [Painful scraping sound- a chair being dragged across the ground, perhaps?]
By Kristen Slade4 years ago in Fiction
The African Gray's Ghost
The African Gray’s Ghost BY LJ SHEA The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.
By Lauren Jane4 years ago in Fiction