Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Endless Online. AI-Generated.
The stairs did not end where they should have. That was the first thing Merlina understood. In a world like Endless Online, even hidden areas followed rules—depth limits, tile boundaries, loading zones. But as they descended, step after step, the distance stretched beyond what any starter region should allow.
By Eris Willow2 days ago in Fiction
Endless Online. AI-Generated.
Merlina moved before the others could stop her. The black water in the fountain trembled as she approached, its surface folding inward and outward like the breath of some hidden lung. The old stone basin, built in the center of Aeven as a harmless ornament for beginners to circle on their first uncertain day, no longer looked decorative. Under the dim lanternlight, it resembled an altar.
By Eris Willow2 days ago in Fiction
Endless Online. AI-Generated.
The town of Aeven was not supposed to breathe. Yet, on the night Merlina Faye Magpie arrived, it did. The wind did not move through its streets—it waited. It lingered in the narrow alleys between pixel-perfect buildings, hesitating like something uncertain of its own existence. Lanterns flickered not with flame, but with a dull, pulsing glow, as though the light itself had a heartbeat.
By Eris Willow2 days ago in Fiction
How Rude!
A red Mazda, rudely cuts into the traffic that stretches out ahead of me, like a bungy cord. Clearly, the ‘early bird‘ didn’t ‘catch the worm’ this time! A car horn beeps in protest. Soon afterwards, I give a quiet cheer when the offending vehicle is delayed by a school bus pulling back into its lane… traffic lights flash amber to red.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶3 days ago in Fiction
The Rule
This place has never pretended to be merciful. We learned that long ago—before the rivers shrank into memory, before the soil turned to powder, before hunger became the only language we all spoke fluently. Complaints evaporate here, same as everything else. The sun sees to that. It hangs above us like a watchful tyrant, a silent warden that neither sleeps nor softens, pressing its heat against our backs until even our shadows seem to wither.
By Kenneth Boutte3 days ago in Fiction
