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Short stories
Artificial Elvis
by Kimberly Moore A cruel coincidence caused this moment in which Hunter stood between the bathroom door and his bedroom entrance, cornered by his stepfather, Cal. Hunter was moving toward the bathroom where he was preparing for his late-afternoon gig, and Cal was leaving the bathroom on his way to work. Hunter crossed his arms. “If they’re serious, they can postpone this interview.” “Why should they postpone for you, when I had to pull strings to get you in?” Hunter’s stepfa
Kimberly Moore
Rearview
by Rajen Goyal Our station wagon sits in the driveway, its fresh maroon coat beaming in the sun. I race out from the house and hop into the wayback seat. Our mission: reach Disney World. I grab the seatbelt, but I wince in pain from the scorching buckle. I wrap my shirt around the buckle and fasten it. The adventure begins—our house on the cul-de-sac shrinking in the distance. THUD! The car jolts from hitting an unseen crack in the road. I grip my belt, jaw clenched. We get o
Rajen Goyal
Leaving Childhood
by Jane Seaford It was in the heat of Africa that Jennie was formed; she felt this as she watched the aeroplane that would take them away come lumbering to a stop, the whirr of its propellers slowing and slowing. She remembered another time, when she was very young, going to England where it was dark and strange. There, the pink cheeks of the children in the cold December looked false, as if they’d been painted on, and made her stare. But her earliest memories were of Nigeria
Jane Seaford
Missing Don
by Ian Inglis I was sitting at the breakfast table with a freshly brewed pot of coffee when I received the phone call telling me of Don’s death. He’d been in Uzbekistan for several days when the bus in which he was travelling from Tashkent to Samarkand was in collision with a lorry outside the town of Jizzakh: seven passengers were killed, as were both drivers. Don Beech, my elder brother, was forty-five years old. It was a trip he’d been talking about, planning, postponing a
Ian Inglis
Flash fiction
Short stories in only 500 words or less.
Under the Bed
by Huina Zheng In our suburban home, the space beneath the bed was never quiet. Once, while my brother and I were napping, a green snake slid out from under it, and my father killed it with one swing of his hoe. Ants, spiders, and geckos crawled out from there; frogs and grasshoppers leapt out; mosquitoes and flies burst into the air. But all of them were nothing compared to the rats. They were huge as hens, the true rulers of the house. My mother hated them. They carried off
Huina Zheng
Jun 92 min read
Leaves
by Luke Lester Toby always gravitated towards his grandfather. His grandfather was a jokester. Twisting words, telling minor fibs to keep Toby on his toes, in his loving way preparing him for the world of liars and charlatans. He would do funny voices and make fun of Toby's ears, so the good-looking young tyke didn't grow up conceited. When he was younger, Toby had a dog named Charlie who lived with his grandparents because they had a place out in the country. He would spend
Luke Lester
May 262 min read
Reading the Squeak Times
by Christopher Dabrowski Boar Albert ate and read The Squeak Times. -Loretta -he grunted animatedly. -Did you know that Earth's inhabitants eat pigs? -Oh -quipped his wife. -Barbarians! Albert adjusted the bathrobe belt and went back to reading. Yet he couldn't concentrate. Too much anxiety cost him what he read. -I will avenge them! I will eat a human! I'll buy one from the greyhounds -he decided. -They sell humans? -asked Loretta. -Yeah, th
Christopher T. Dabrowski
Feb 181 min read
Chimney Surprise
by Christopher Dabrowksi Something rattled and fell, raising a billowing cloud of black dust. I was sure it was a burglar, but... it's Christmas, maybe it's Santa Claus. However, it wasn't him, even though the characteristic colors, hat, and gift bag matched. It was a stunning woman instead—yes, a little soot-stained and coughing because she had inhaled it, but even without that, her beauty knocked me out. "Hey, I am Snowflake" she finally spoke up. "I'm a Santa substitute. H
Christopher T. Dabrowski
Dec 21, 20251 min read
Almost a Schrödinger
by Anne M. Carson His cat is both alive, hovering at the moment of simultaneity, and also dead. The cartoon vet puts a sympathetic hand on the client’s shoulder, says, “About your cat Mr Schrödinger, I have good news and bad news.” My cat wasn’t dead and alive, but in two places at once, almost a Schrödinger cat. One version of Charlie was hiding from the new cat sitter, safe in the cupboard at home. The other was in hospital comforting me. Doped up with opiods, my calves wra
Anne M. Carson
Nov 23, 20251 min read
Helpful Dog
by Christopher Dabrowski Human worked again, at a glowing rectangle—he called it a laptop. He looked tired, so Ozzy offered to help: - Get some rest, I'll pat the keyboard for you - he barked. Human stroked his head and moved away. The dog glanced at the device. - I won't even write a "woof, woof". Difficult stamps... However, he decided he wouldn't give up and enthusiastically pawed at random buttons. What is happening? The letters grew! Human came and went pale, reading: -
Christopher T. Dabrowski
Nov 11, 20251 min read
Animal Stories
Stories about pets and animals.
Under the Bed
by Huina Zheng In our suburban home, the space beneath the bed was never quiet. Once, while my brother and I were napping, a green snake slid out from under it, and my father killed it with one swing of his hoe. Ants, spiders, and geckos crawled out from there; frogs and grasshoppers leapt out; mosquitoes and flies burst into the air. But all of them were nothing compared to the rats. They were huge as hens, the true rulers of the house. My mother hated them. They carried off
Huina Zheng
Jun 9
The Moon as Her Mother
by Hira Amir It all started the day when a team of doctors, wearing masks and lab coats, from the Institute of Animal Health came to their part of the village to announce the development of the new vaccine that fights various cattle diseases. All the village cows were to be injected immediately, the senior doctor said, no emotion behind his eyes; it is a government order. They had prepared in advance for the collective rebellion from the villagers. “We’re not letting these go
Hira Amir
Feb 26
Quit Horsing Around
by Susan Duffield-Lodge From the moment our eyes met I knew in my heart that he was the one. I’d never been a believer in love at first sight. Until now. Destiny can be funny like that; sneaking up on you when you least expect it—one of those magical, memorable moments when love gently taps you on the shoulder. I was immediately transfixed by the sheer beauty and magnificence of him as he began slowly ambling toward me. I found myself assessing his physical bearing from afar—
Susan Duffield-Lodge
Nov 25, 2025
Chaos Was A Blue Cat
by Irene Cunningham the woman I saw within her had pale blue hair with electric highlights. She could nestle in cloud under the moon… in fact it appeared sometimes there were great grey wings puffing around her, camouflaging her nakedness. No one knows what she got up to on those nights amongst rooftops and spires, and mornings after the short disappearances, she’d sit facing walls, tail wrapped around her paws probably re-living reckless raving—I should’ve called her Harpy.
Irene Cunningham
Oct 26, 2025
A Doggy Christmas
by Andrew McDonald “Sit pretty Max.” Mark smiled as the dog sat up on his haunches, front paws out as his long pink tongue dripped a bit...
Andrew McDonald
Sep 30, 2025
Surely Shorty
by AE Reiff Surely drove up and parked under the Bougainvillea. I wasn’t sure at first if she wasn’t he at first because of the tail...
AE Reiff
Sep 24, 2025
Nostalgic stories
Stories about childhood, youth or bygone times
Rearview
by Rajen Goyal Our station wagon sits in the driveway, its fresh maroon coat beaming in the sun. I race out from the house and hop into the wayback seat. Our mission: reach Disney World. I grab the seatbelt, but I wince in pain from the scorching buckle. I wrap my shirt around the buckle and fasten it. The adventure begins—our house on the cul-de-sac shrinking in the distance. THUD! The car jolts from hitting an unseen crack in the road. I grip my belt, jaw clenched. We get o
Rajen Goyal
Jun 25
Leaving Childhood
by Jane Seaford It was in the heat of Africa that Jennie was formed; she felt this as she watched the aeroplane that would take them away come lumbering to a stop, the whirr of its propellers slowing and slowing. She remembered another time, when she was very young, going to England where it was dark and strange. There, the pink cheeks of the children in the cold December looked false, as if they’d been painted on, and made her stare. But her earliest memories were of Nigeria
Jane Seaford
Jun 23
Missing Don
by Ian Inglis I was sitting at the breakfast table with a freshly brewed pot of coffee when I received the phone call telling me of Don’s death. He’d been in Uzbekistan for several days when the bus in which he was travelling from Tashkent to Samarkand was in collision with a lorry outside the town of Jizzakh: seven passengers were killed, as were both drivers. Don Beech, my elder brother, was forty-five years old. It was a trip he’d been talking about, planning, postponing a
Ian Inglis
Jun 16
Condensation
by Huina Zheng My brother taught me how to draw on the window. On winter mornings he would come to my bed and wake me, then pull me—still half asleep—to the biggest window in the living room. That was our canvas. “Make your mouth an O.” Then he breathed onto the glass. A warm patch spread across it and gathered into a pale fog. “Not too fast. And not too close,” he said. “Or it disappears.” His finger moved across the glass, and the fog thinned wherever he touched it, leaving
Huina Zheng
Jun 7
Love Bubble
by Vartan Koumrouyan There was not a before and an after, a physical separation that changed the course of events, or changed me to become another person. It was a continuation of the same wonder that I didn't understand then as I still don't understand now. The war served as a balm ointment whereby it made me stop asking myself difficult questions. I blamed my failure on the war, and I only identify the pre war period of those childhood moments as belonging to the purest for
Vartan Koumrouyan
Jun 4
L'Homme Tranquille
by W.R. James Father died today. Which he didn’t, it was more than a week ago, but I wanted to start this like that because I wanted it to be like the book by Camus. That’s why I called this L'Homme Tranquille, The Quiet Man, because of the books by Camus, especially the one about his childhood, unfinished, Le Premier Homme. That sounds right, it fits. It fits because it’s unfinished, and because he died too. That’s what this is, what I’m trying to do. Not to write a book, bu
W.R. James
Jun 2
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