Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Golden Locket
The Golden Locket by Jeff Naparstek The timing was impeccable. The year was Twenty-Two Fifty Six. The Third Great Depression in less than three hundred years had devastated the economy. The government offered to "help" families with their financial struggle. The price of gold had plummeted to forty-two dollars an ounce. The Senate approved a stabilizing cap of one hundred dollars an ounce for anything purer than eighteen karats.
By Jeff Naparstek5 years ago in Fiction
The Pop-Up Camp
I collect fishhooks whenever I find them. I string them like a beautiful curtain between two trees. There are many ways out of my camp. You can run one way and get the hooks. You can jump out into the reservoir and swim away. Some people try to go back the way they came in, back on the old hiker’s trail. The reservoir is huge now that the dams don’t work. It’s deep in the middle and rocky at the edges. Diving is a real bad idea, but it’s an idea that comes to people when they’re in a hurry. The old hiker’s trail is all safe, that’s the way I come and go, but please don’t tell anybody.
By Matt Keating5 years ago in Fiction
Holmesburg
"Hey, You dropped this!" Mick yelled out, running toward Persephone with a tiny heart-shaped locket dangling from his hand. "Oh my God!!! I would have never made it back through these walls without my Pop with me.", Persephone said with the biggest smile beaming from her face. Since the day she had broken into the old prison, once she realized what was happening, she swore that the only reason they were all still alive was because of that little locket. Her two boys had given it to her on the first Christmas after she had lost her father. It meant the world to her and she felt it gave her some sort of protection since the day the world seemed to flip upside down. After all, at a time like this, you have to believe in something or you'll never make it.
By Sharon Smith5 years ago in Fiction
Where You Go, I Go
As Temperance walked down the path she kept an eye out for any signs regarding the safety zone. She had been alone for nearly two weeks, making her way through what once was the bustling city of Cleveland, Ohio. Though, buildings remained and remnants of homes still stood, the setting was an eerie silence. She had not seen any other survivors since the last air raid. She grasped the heart shaped locket that hung heavy around her neck.
By Samantha Highben5 years ago in Fiction
Split from Utopia
“No!” Naipotu shrieked in horror as Kashmir’s hands slipped from her grasp and she went hurling into the abyss. “Kashmir! Kashmir!” She yelled frantically but she could no longer see or hear her wife. They shared telepathic energy and were able to sense each other but she could no longer feel her either. Naipotu felt nothing but emptiness. She looked around, her vision still slightly blurry from the debris ridden sky. The sky that was once a vibrant pinkish orange, now appeared to be dark purple.
By Toi McMullen5 years ago in Fiction
The Harvest's Words
Downtowns smelled like a wet dog whenever it rained. And that made the bars smell like kill-shelters. They were the best shopping places for a while, if you could stand the scent. Saturday nights at Bad Dad’s, that was my spot. I’d seen enough TV before the plague to know that I couldn’t shop every week, or even every month. I spaced it out to twelve or thirteen times a year. I made my stores last.
By Matt Keating5 years ago in Fiction
Red Strike
The year is 3020. My name is Zen and I have been living underground for five years. I certainly would be dead if I had not been rescued and dragged to a secret bunker. Walking over one hundred miles through swamps and rocky terrain, my handmade aluminum suit provided me with enough coverage to be completely undetectable by eliminating all revealing signals of my location and vital signs transmitted by a single micro-chip embedded into my brain. After the anti-cell phone movement in 2075, the government needed a reliable tracking system, as many people refused to be connected to a network and went off the grid. The practice of micro chipping at birth was aggressively passed into law, however, this was the least of our worries. There were explosive and volatile riots that took place all over the country and many of us died fighting to stop it. The new order military task force introduced itself by stepping in and used sophisticated and destructive weaponry on us that made every other weapon of existence known to mankind look like child’s play. They were able to overpower us and gain control very easily. Most of my family died in these riots. I lost almost everything.
By Aria Bella5 years ago in Fiction
THE SEA-HEART
From the Diary of Princess Mercia… We are Aquatitans; Aquarius is our home. The land of this Sixth Earth is a scorched plain by a burning sun; or an arctic demise due to a devastating winter. The skies are alight with electricity or smog; and are prone to hunting forces. The sky and land of Sixth Earth have constantly given themselves away to war. None can exist on Sixth Earth by day during ¾ of the year; or night OR day during the Tundra. Land dwellers have been driven underground and only technology, and an insatiable appetite for conquest, can continue to save the dwellers of the sky. Aquarius is our safe harbor and the only haven that Sixth Earth has left. In our strength, we Aquatitans keep it that way; and in our wisdom, we do not use our strength to intercede in affairs beyond our own. Sixth Earth’s demise was due to former generations; and THESE Earth-dwellers would live beneath the ground rather than clean up what is around them. As for the Skylanders, they are bitter, cold, and would not advance a conflict if they were not surrounded in the technology to make it worthwhile. Our place is in the sea; my father has always told me so. To even enter a scorching Earth could lead to great sickness for me; or lead to a misunderstanding that my walking the land would mean that my people have chosen a side. If I had listened with a diplomat’s brain and not my youthful heart, I would not have lost the Aquatitans’ Heart, our greatest treasure; and a presumed token of alliance should it be returned…
By Kent Brindley5 years ago in Fiction
a memory of when
It’s high noon. He awakens in a fit of mucus-filled coughs. Old bones vibrate beneath skin stretched taut as rawhide. A mind weary from two and seventy trips around the sun slowly sputters to life. The air is tart, puckered. Heat peeks through the walls, no structure insufficiently membranous to keep it at bay.
By Alex Bragan5 years ago in Fiction
