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Best Stories on the Web
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Here, on we publish only the highest quality stories from great writers around the world. To have work published on is testament to the finest writing ability. Once published, we share your success with others, announce your achievement on Twitter, and give good writing, great publicity. The site receives in excess of 300,000 page views per month and is the number one site on search engines for various genres.

We have a category for everyone. So why not sharpen your skills, your pencil and your wits and commit that story to paper? Give our followers what they want to read and get your name in front of thousands of readers every week.

Best of luck in your writing endeavors.


Happpy Birthday To Me

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It was my 30th birthday and my wife, Clara, had planned a camping trip to celebrate it. She knew that I loved to camp, but she wasn’t really into it. She loved the idea of it, but not the actual process of it. My wife liked to be pampered with all of the comforts of home, so spending a week in a tent outdoors was probably the last thing she wanted to do. No cell phones, no tv, no laptops, just pure nature. I loved her for doing this for me.


The Egg

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The wind swept across the island like a scythe.  Mary Greene sat in her dimly lit kitchen cradling her nine month old baby.  The boy mewed softly.  Mary knew the infant was hungry, but because of the inclement weather it had been impossible to reach the mainland and the food cupboards were becoming barer as each day passed.  She looked at the empty shelves and sighed wearily.  The boy had refused the weak, milky porridge she had provided for breakfast.  Would he refuse the same for his lunch?  She fervently hoped he would be hungry enough to eat it.



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Black hugged the night sky while rays of light shined down from the moon after the car pulled into my driveway.

I tilted my head while sitting in the front passenger seat. “Thank you for tonight, Patrick.”

He gave my hand a squeeze. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

I winked. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”


A Strange Turn of Events

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Alden Carter sat in his wheel chair and looked out his window at Lake Michigan.  Summer brought out the sun-worshipers and small and large boats that bobbed up and down on the lake's waves. Alden's wife, Millie, entered the room from the kitchen and went to her husband.  "Alden, darling, I made tuna fish sandwiches. Come into the kitchen and eat with me."

"Okay, Millie," he said and wheeled himself to the kitchen table.

Millie placed a bowl of salad on the table, and put a plate with a sandwich on it in front of Alden.


Goodbye Rose

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When I think about my Rose, I picture her on our wedding day. I will never forget the way her amber eyes glistened through the lacework of her veil like the sun piercing through puffy white clouds. How her thick, ebony hair fell in waves against her frosted gown and was as dauntless as her character and as dominant as the night’s sky. My hands were damp from nervous sweat. My knees were untrustworthy. I gazed into the fire of her eyes through prisms of joyful tears.


The Sun and The Moon

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From their conception they have constantly been a great distance from each other, but they had always been able to communicate. Like most love stories they started out slow and shy. Stolen glances here and small smiles there. But as time progressed their interaction became bolder, conversations began go on and on, they were not constrained by time, they were simply left to get to know each other. As their conversations grew and their bond became unbreakable the Sun became desperate.


The Great Detective

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We are in the drawing room with the Great Detective. Everyone is assembled. All the family, the household staff, the weekend guests, anyone who has  been near this place since we found the body of poor old Aunt Charlotte last Friday evening.  It is time, it seems, for the grand finale.  This is the moment where he lines everyone up and unravels the mystery for us. This is the part where he explains exactly what has been going on, displays at great length every facet of his genius before eventually, finally pointing a finger at the murderer.


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YOLO, Kayla Conner thought as she gazed at the clock upon the drab gray wall, her long, angular jaw resting in the upturned palm of her hand. She sighed, blowing a wayward strand of dirty blonde hair away from her face, and leaned heavily on the countertop; her elbow was sore as fuck, but she didn’t trust her neck to support the weight of her head.

You only live once, and her you are, wasting your life.

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