Mystery
The Coin That Wouldn’t Leave
The man found the coin on the sidewalk after the St. Patrick’s Day parade ended. The street was still littered with green confetti, plastic beads, and crushed beer cans. Crowds were thinning out as people staggered toward bars or rides home.
By V-Ink Storiesabout 2 hours ago in Fiction
The Parade That Never Ends
The woman had only meant to watch the parade for a few minutes. She was in the city for a short business trip, staying in a downtown hotel overlooking several busy streets. When she stepped outside that afternoon, the entire district had been transformed for St. Patrick’s Day.Green banners hung from every streetlight.
By V-Ink Storiesabout 2 hours ago in Fiction
Waiting
It could have been the perfect summer day. The hot July sun warmed the water in the backyard pool just enough to be comfortable and refreshing. The laughter of the five little girls echoed against the splashing water as they chased each other in a classic game of Marco Polo. The game distracted them enough that they failed to notice the dipping sun nearing the horizon. Their fingers and toes had long ago turned wrinkly like raisins, but none wondered why they had been left to play so long today.
By A. J. Schoenfeldabout 5 hours ago in Fiction
Above From Below: Part 2
Above From Below: Part 1 Part 2 From the window of his dark, barely powered, second-floor office, Rick Steele stared into the even more dismal outdoors, a cigarette hanging from beneath his unshaven lip. The humidity in the air was thick, and Rick felt beads of sweat running down from his temples. His shirt was shadowed by sweat, even in the dimly lit office space. As he blew the smoke out of the open window, watching the drops bounce off the several inches of flood waters covering the street below, the buzzing alarm from his phone told him it was time to leave.
By The Man Behind The Maskabout 6 hours ago in Fiction
THE CHANGE
The first thing that changed was so small it almost seemed like a mistake. Erica noticed it while rinsing a glass, the water running louder than it should have, or maybe thinner, as if it had somewhere else to be. She turned the faucet off and on again, testing it, but the sound didn’t return to what she thought it had been. It stayed slightly off, like a word pronounced almost correctly.
By Pamela Dirrabout 8 hours ago in Fiction
The House With One Lamp On
A literary fiction short story about estrangement, memory, and returning to the edge of a beginning without resolution. By the time Mara turned onto Bishop Road, the rain had thinned to a silver mist, the kind that did not so much fall as hover, as though the sky had forgotten whether it meant to finish what it started.
By Flower InBlooma day ago in Fiction
