Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Don't Be Shocked If My Pillow Pet Murders Me
“A pillow pet? Mom, I’m frickin a adult, I don’t want a pillow pet!” Eight-year-old me was furious at my mother for buying me a “baby gift” as a birthday present. It took 10 minutes for me to get over it, as I quickly realized Brad was the closest thing I had to a friend. I began to take him everywhere. My mother noticed our unbreakable bond and got me another pillow pet for my next birthday.
By Payton Burdette4 years ago in Fiction
When I Picture My Beloved
MONDAY I've been meaning to ask you this, by the way. It might sound rather silly and I can easily imagine you laughing if I said this to your face, but I'm not kidding around. What is it about you that made you strong enough to not only look at me, but willingly spend time around me? What gave you the electric charge to stare right into my eyes without batting your own? Why were you able to stand being aware of my existence?
By Shyne Kamahalan4 years ago in Fiction
I Think I Left the Iron On
To quote a “Very Funny Fellow” – I started out as a child. I spent the first twenty-four years of my life acting like a child and doing some rather childish things. I didn’t date much before then and even when I did reach the one quarter century mark, I still much preferred ‘playing’ to working. I played hockey and baseball and football whenever I could. I skipped work occasionally so that I could play these games, and others. Some would have called me immature, but I prefer to think of my habits and behaviors as simply efforts to preserve my youth. In my 28th year, I got married (finally, by my mother's account). After being on my own for my entire life to that point, it was difficult for me to get used to the things I needed to do as a married man. I had to refrain from executing some of my favorite bodily functions in public (or even in private). I couldn’t watch sports on television any more than two or three hours per week. Dishes had to be washed after every meal. Bathing, showering and shaving became almost daily expectations. Chairs could no longer be used for hanging my clothes. And, articles left on the floor for more than one or two days often disappeared from my collections altogether.
By John Oliver Smith4 years ago in Fiction
The Suitcase
I began to move closer to the double sided mirror, drawn to the distance behind her eyes. I wondered if she could see me studying her, searching for any ounce of dishonesty that would reveal the answers we longed for. Her deep blue eyes posses a compelling emptiness. Sandy’s monochromatic teal suit is stained and yet, she begins to smooth her untidy curls into a neat bun.
By Taaj Bowers 4 years ago in Fiction
The House My Social Anxiety Built
This was always her favorite part of the day. The moment just before sunrise. Ava sat on the sofa on the back porch, looking out over the beach with her coffee in hand, and watched as the stars faded from view. She loved watching how the blackness of the night sky folded back, revealing a clear, bright, blue sky in its place. She listened as the world came to life around her. The cars began to bustle— children being driven to school and people hurrying off to work— and families began flocking to the beach.
By Bree Alexander (she/her)4 years ago in Fiction
The Winchester
My boot hit the dock with an echo as I climbed down from The Winchester. This boat had been in my family for decades. My Grandfather inherited it from his Uncle who was somewhat of a family legend. Gramps would always make a whole event of telling us kids all about the great sea adventures Uncle Henry went on, and all the mysterious creatures he encountered. Gramps was a little eccentric, so we all knew to take the stories with a large grain of salt. Sea monsters were a staple of mythical folk tales around our town, so we weren't strangers to the lore, but we also knew better than to believe everything we heard.
By Ashleigh Riley4 years ago in Fiction
