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Latest Stories

March 19, 2024
Fantasy Stories Wondering Monk

Just My Imagination

The alarm clock went off and started playing an awful tune. Tom opened his eyes and closed them back, squinting. He reopened one eye and stood up to stop the torture. The phone was on the desk, in the furthest spot from the bed. Although he changed his way of…
March 19, 2024
Science Fiction Stories Ocelotlzin

Earth Is Dead

Recording… It doesn't matter who I was; I probably lived a long time ago, and I am now just a voice someone added to the audio-visual records. What is essential is the recollection of events that lead to the current state. So, a little history needs to be…
March 08, 2024
Flash Fiction Benoit

Some Enchanted Evening

It was a rugby tackle with tears: Chrissy burst in, sobbing and babbling, hugging James. Her face was all wet, eyes wild. What…? My parents split up, Dad has moved in with his boyfriend and I cannot join them. I am shut out. I have lost my dad. Torrent of…
March 08, 2024
Horror Stories Marvel Chukwudi Pephel

In The Hands Of My Legs

The car pulled up in front of the large salon. The neon sign, that sexy broad thing, on the salon'sroof read "Mr. Gil's All-night Salon". The exhaust pipe of the car was pumping solid smoke, theswirls moving from the car and towards the salon.…
March 07, 2024
Mystery Stories Vanessa Leigh Giles

Casualty of Love in the Time of Coronavirus

Chapter 1 Until Death do us Part ‘Ring, ring!’. I answered the telephone and asked, “Hello, good evening. Who’s this? “Hello.” This is Dr. Smith from Red Cross hospital. “Is this Mr. Locke, John?”, he asked, hesitantly scratching his bald head. “Yes, doctor.…
March 07, 2024
Crime Stories Robert Pook

Bar Room Trigger

Another return journey on footpaths so familiar. He strides across each crack in each paving stone. Regular loose drain covers sidestepped. Mapping long ago mapped in Richard’s desolate mind. His pace hastened by the sight of the oncoming storm. Quickening…
March 04, 2024
Horror Stories Ano Chinemerem

Sanctity

Where should I begin? I could begin by telling you about this comely boy, whom every notable person around the streets agrees his smile could charm the bills off one. Between one smile, there was his goodness, his dreams and humanity—a little far ahead?— but…
March 04, 2024
Flash Fiction Emanuel Diaz

Et Mortui Partium

As Rafael stepped out into the rain, it wasn't the ordinary drops that fell from the sky. Instead, it was a storm of souls, each one taking the form of shimmering jewelry as it cascaded toward the ground. Rubies, diamonds, and sapphires twinkled amidst the…
February 29, 2024
Poetry Jing Li Ava

London

‘Am I in London?’ "I am." Where is Elizabeth? Happy living story All of your chapter Bounlance joy Please my heart Power hand Wise mind Our baby Vow vow Love all love Miss I miss Endless wonder Bring us together Love all love Miss I miss For everything My…
February 29, 2024
Flash Fiction Rob Pook

Life Sentence of The Smith

Born nine months after his country won the World Cup.A child prodigy.Cast off at age twenty-four.Husband, father, emigree, away on the other side of the world.The blue-collar life.The dreams of success.The search for fulfillment.The long years of empty…
February 29, 2024
Mystery Stories Joshua Lowther

The Operator

Jason looked over to his right, his eyes barely able to focus themselves on the subject of his attention. His neck ached terribly from the strenuous movement. He was tired. The captain’s gaze came to rest on the rookie sonar operator sitting tense at his…
February 29, 2024
Flash Fiction Salvatore Difalco

The Chute

At dusk, we left our unit with a soft pink bundle. I carried it through the wet streets and into the black woods. I said I’d take it all the way, the bundle, but that we had to drop it in together. My wife’s green eyes flashed. “Don’t make me do that.” I…

His fire was a bluff of life in the withering carcass of his company. Walton stood staring at the sands around him. The dunes rose and fell with the hypnotic rhythm of ocean waves, gusts of wind scattering the nighttime sand through the air like a silver whip. Above him the sky opened in a vast display of constellations he had forgotten the names of, each star pulsing a small but vibrant light.

He had led them out here. Three hundred men wrapped in crimson robes with a sword and spear in each hand. There had been complaints of bandits in the Middling Pass; robbing, killing, raping. The Legion had been sent to quell the bandits, Walton had been placed in charge.

He had ordered a group of twenty to enter the Middling Pass at nightfall. “Bring back four or five of them,” Walton had told his Lieutenant, Jory, “We will hang them from the ravine overlooking The Pass. We will send a message to the others.”

“What of the rest, Commander?” Jory had asked.

“Kill them and burn their bodies.”

Eighteen of the men sent into The Pass returned with five of the bandits in chains; three women, two men. Jory reported back to him, his face swollen with ugly red veins surrounding a deep red gash underneath his left eye. “It was the old man at the end, Commander. He bashed a stone against my cheek and stove another boys head in through his helm. He’s got a strong arm.”

Walton examined the old man. His face was small and the lines that etched its surface were caked with sand and dirt, his eyes were deep set in his head. Drool ran steadily down an uneven, knotted beard.

“We caught most of them off-guard, Commander.” Jory continued, “Most of our men made it out unharmed aside from one boy who caught an arrow through his throat.”

“Did you bury our dead, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Commander, and we burned the dead refugees.”

“Good.” A single bead of sweat ran down the old man’s skin leaving a muddy trail in its wake. The old man made a low guttural noise and retched over into the sand. The sun hung unwavering the sky.

“Hang them.”

They were hung from the ravine that overlooked The Middling Pass; Three women, two men. A message to all others.

A strong gust of wind rushed through Walton as he stood in the moonlight. His fire wavered, its heat disappearing momentarily and leaving a heavy, cold feeling of despair in his chest before snapping back into place.

There were only thirty or forty men left now, it’s been so hard to keep track. The twenty he had ordered into The Pass had been the first to go. Their skin blistering and turning black, falling off in long, pulpy strands. Their eyes yellowing into a grimy, opaque stain set far back into their skulls. Then came the vomiting, the dehydration, and the hallucinations. They would keep up with the marches at first but eventually they would just drop. More each day, more each night. Until only the bones of his camp were left. What was once filled with the sounds of drinking and laughing and gambling now echoed a terrible silence. Each night more and more fires would go out. Until only his was left.

The night before Jory died he had come to Walton’s tent. “The bandits, Commander.” He said. “Some of them had been sick, sick with this Rot. Black skin, blisters, vomiting. It was them.” Walton didn’t reply.

“The men, there a whispers throughout the camp that we are lost. Whispers that you are leading us out west. We aren’t lost, are we?” There was hope in his voice. Jory had wrapped himself in the robes of the Red Legion but the tips of his fingers had peeled away to reveal stringy red stumps, and Walton thought that if he were to lift up the robe that the soft flesh of his throat would be blistered and black. Again Walton didn’t answer. Jory left without another word; the next day he had been found dead in his tent. That’s when the fires started going out at night.

The camp was quiet. Walton’s fire was alone. Clouds rolled into the sky and suddenly Walton thought that the silvery dunes around him had become hostile and cold, no longer a visage of beauty but a frigid cage surrounding him. Walton removed the glove on his left hand and the skin of his palm had begun to turn an unnatural purple color, the tips of his fingers bleeding slightly.

“No Jory, we aren’t lost.” He whispered.

And his fire went out.

 

Bio: My name is Timothy Morgan Rock. I am an aspiring novelist and short story writer. I am a college sophomore who is studying to become an attorney in PA. I enjoy exercising, boxing, basketball, football, and reading.

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