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Latest Stories

June 04, 2025
General Stories Dylan James Harper

The Bylaws Of The Revolutionary Council

A loud clang rang through the bunker as the door slammed shut. “I really think we have a chance to win this thing!” Greg’s voice echoed throughout the cold walls. The three other inhabitants of the bunker, Jeff, Ben, and Malcolm, all sat around a table…
June 04, 2025
General Stories Michael Barlett

Resurrection

The man lay there in extremis, no longer thinking of cool abstracts like ‘catching the last train for the coast.’ He gulped great rasping breaths – holding them impossibly long – before finally exhaling in a shuttering burst of putrid air. He had been…
June 04, 2025
Flash Fiction Benoit

Time Warp

Nothing was in order, nothing optimal. Germany was awash with refugees and adventurers. Only Angie could hold it together; but then she opened the gates! Who knows why? Other politicians were dinosaurs in the museum. Integration was the solution, was it? That…
June 04, 2025
Fantasy Stories M.D. Smith

Car Of Dreams

Randy Jenkins, age sixty, lived the kind of life people don’t write stories about. He sold office supplies out of a small showroom in the back corner of a strip mall just outside Corpus Christi. He wore beige. Ate microwave dinners. And spent more time…
June 04, 2025
Science Fiction Stories David Rich

Earth Forever

With an exhale, Damerae unclipped a lint-free cloth from his desk, snatched it from the air, and wiped his glasses. He preferred staying hidden in his cozy interior office in the bowels of Orbital Counterweight Station of the International Space Elevator. But…
June 04, 2025
Flash Fiction George Vu

A Stolen Kiss A Beautiful Dream

It had been a long, exhausting day for her – a blur of endless tasks and demands. Yet, despite it all, she had fought for a moment to be with him. Stealing time from the world around her, she walked into the room quietly, hoping to surprise him. After a few…
June 04, 2025
Flash Fiction Benoit

Cow Bells

Based on actual incidents. Swiss Cabinet meeting, 15 March 1943 The American Ambassador has no comment, no explanation. We can expel the Ambassador in protest. I prefer he remains here under close surveillance. The bombing yesterday was of nuisance value; it…
June 04, 2025
Poetry Markus J

Signed To The Message

do your bit for king and country. are you a coward? or are you brave? so now is the time to sacrifice you don`t want to let your mates down it`s a kinship of the soul you know that’s the Australian way it was the message that was kept being sold so they…
June 04, 2025
General Stories Michael Barlett

On The Rebound

I was sitting in a bar knocking back my third Jack Daniels, when a drop-dead gorgeous blonde walked in. As she paused, surveying the room, I raised my glass in a complimentary salute. It was a ‘Hail Mary’ move, and I could hardly believe it when she came…
June 04, 2025
Science Fiction Stories M.D. Smith

Unplanned Landing

Red lights pulsed. Sirens howled. “Alert. Navigation failure. Proximity alert. Impact in thirty seconds.” Captain Mara Voss shot upright in her cryo-pod, lungs gasping like a drowning swimmer. Across the chamber, the rest of the crew jerked awake, groggy and…
June 04, 2025
Poetry Markus J

Marching To The Same Beat

an angel stands under a lonely pine showing the way to the lost souls the ones who innocently answered the king’s call and now flags fly half mast for those that no-more stand buried in some far off foreign land the pipes call out to the brave and the angel…
April 29, 2025
Fantasy Stories Chris Turner-Neal

The Gorgon’s Climb

I am the only one of us who calls it rape. Stheno, when she must mention it, says “our bad luck;” Medusa shrugs and says “gods don’t have to ask.” And I say but they should and she says but they don’t and Stheno says this attitude doesn’t help, and she’s…

Do people who've gone insane recognize the changes they've gone through that got them where they are? What I mean to say is do they know they are going crazy? Are they helpless to the events happening to their minds? Or are they oblivious to the events, making their life an ever morphing horror movie? Both sound very intriguing, I don't think I could choose one way or another. I think the journey alone is an adventure worth experiencing. Which brings me to the paradoxical question am I sane? Conventionally no, but I understand this. This is why I will choose and not allow time or fate to make a choice for me.

I have an overwhelming amount of hate growing inside me, though I am not sure who the hate is meant for. I hate me, for allowing myself to be the butt of every joke and the punching bag for every degenerate and miscreant of my town. And I hate all of them, not for what they have done to me but at the end of the day, in their eyes I don't exist. How can someone who has lived here their whole lives, and taken so much abuse not exist. The mail man who broke my nose while in a drunken rage, didn't deliver my mail for three weeks because he didn't realize someone lived in my house. He thought it was abandoned. The mailman is my neighbor.

So today I load every magazine, And oil every firearm, I tie my boots tight and prepare to make them recognize me. Machiavelli proposed an interesting choice. Wether you want to be feared or loved. I lost the capability to love long ago. Today I practice fear.

As I walked out of my house draped with 2 pistols, a semi-automatic rifle and a 12 gauge pump shotgun, I was ready. When I made it to the street, I was startled by a man sprinting towards me like a rabid dog. Swallowing my fear deep into the pit of my stomach, I raised my Colt .45 caliber 1911 and fired at the man. The loud noise of the shot made me jump, so much so I almost dropped my pistol. So shaken up by the power of the pistol itself, I almost forgot to look at the damage done to the attacking citizen. The round had hit the man in his left elbow severing it from the joint, the rest of his forearm now hanging on by a small piece of flesh. In the 3 seconds it would have taken the man to reach me by this point, I had a full conversation with myself. How did the round not stop the man immediately? The shock from something like that would surly incapacitate anyone. I fired again hitting the man in his chest. The force from the round knock the man of his feet, yet the man was not dead. As my tunnel vision dissipates I can clearly see my surrounding, the fog of hatred made my senses dull. The man was disfigured, it looked as if he was mauled on the neck and face. I shot him a third time, this time in the head. He ceased to move any longer.

It figured, the day I choose to take the lives of my fellow town people, they had turned to zombies. This is the best conclusion based on the most current of events. At this moment I wonder if this is an hallucination; a symptom of my pending insanity. I continue onward. The noise of the three shots had drawn the attention of more living dead. Pulling the rifle off my shoulder I began shooting, aiming high in hope of head shots. Almost simultaneously from my right I heard screaming. And out of the corner of my eye I saw a young woman being mauled by the dead. She became a zombie immediately and started looking for her next living meal. I need to remember this! Walking the town I must have killed hundreds of zombies. It had seemed if I had killed them all. If anyone was still alive I would be considered a hero, if they saw what I was doing and how I saved the world I would be famous. I would be noticed. And maybe loved.

From where I was standing I could see a man sitting hunched over near the doors of town hall. As I got closer it was someone I knew and some what respected, he had a needle in his arm. A definite overdose. I kicked his foot and the man tried to move but was unable to get to his feet. With its arms raised he tried his best to grab me and try to make me his next meal. I decided to make this kill for mercy and not for my own personal gratification. I put the last bullet that I was saving for myself in the event of an emergency, through his head and removed the needle. From the door next to me I heard whispers. It sounded like people were hiding out waiting for the National Guard. One of the more desperate patrons inside opened the door to see if help was outside. It was my mailman. He asked who I was and if I was there to help them. He continued to explain how there were hundreds inside and the place was heavily fortified. As I walked inside and my mailman chained and locked the front door, I jammed the needle that was still in my hand into my thigh. Now I will show them fear.

 

End

 

My name is Thomas Berman, I have been a fan of horror my entire life. Horror for me is a way to live out my darkest and deepest fantasy. I encourage everyone to try to write and never let anyone tell you what you are doing is foolish or dumb. It is foolish or dumb NOT TO TRY. Life is for the living, do what makes you happy.

 

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