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Latest Stories

November 03, 2025
Science Fiction Stories L Christopher Hennessy

The Light That Wasn't God

They found the truck three days after the storm, engine still warm, doors flung open with obvious brutal force. No sign of blood. No sign of struggle. Just a half-eaten sandwich on the dash and a smear of something black and iridescent on the steering wheel.…
November 03, 2025
Romance Stories Jennifer Moffatt

Don’t Sit, You’ll Miss It

I paid for my seat. I want to sit in it without missing anything. So, when the band kicks the show off with their second-biggest hit, and the woman in front of me with black hair in a silver sequined dress leaps to her feet, I groan. Jodi, my cousin, shares a…
November 03, 2025
Science Fiction Stories L Christopher Hennessy

A Daughter Of Man

The city had no name anymore. It used to. Jack remembered it vaguely—billboards, neon, the hum of trains overhead. Now it was just a carcass of steel and ash, its bones jutting skyward like the ribs of some long-dead beast. Fires burned in the distance,…
November 03, 2025
Flash Fiction Syed Hassan Askari

Frozen Mornings

It was a cold winter, and the wind felt like sharp needles touching the skin. Trees were rustling, standing bare. The fog covered the streets. Schools were shut for winter break, and most kids spent their days sitting by the windows wrapped in quilts near the…
October 31, 2025
Science Fiction Stories Nelly Shulman

Fly Me To The Moon

The evening lunar shuttle departed on time. When the engines roared and the rocket left the steel trusses, I took a deep breath. Public transportation to the Moon had stopped being a novelty, but I still admired the pilots’ skill. “You may unfasten your seat…
October 31, 2025
Poetry Markus J

Sonnet X

they say it`s all the boomers and X`s fault- into the wound they rub the salt. we planted a seed and watched it bloom- never expected any handouts upon a golden spoon. we had to save real hard- just to buy our very first car. every day was lived hand to…
October 31, 2025
General Stories Matias Travieso-Diaz

Posters

I told Irene: "I had to shut the door to the passage. They have taken over the back part. She let her knitting fall and looked at me with her tired, serious eyes. "You're sure?" I nodded. "In that case,” she said, picking up her knitting again, "we'll have…
October 31, 2025
Romance Stories Brittany Szekely

Snap Me When You’re Home

A chance Snapchat add leads to a slow-burn love story between two strangers who become lifelong partners It started with a misclick, a blurry photo of a coffee cup that was meant for her sister that was sent to a stranger named “Jax_93.” Luna stared at the…
October 31, 2025
Flash Fiction Syed Hassan Askari

The Fate Of Her Pencil

Last year, she entered her husband’s home with hopes and quiet dreams. Dreams which every village girl sees about her secure future. Village life was harsh and unforgiving. Instead of laughter, her days echoed with commands. The smallest mistake brought…
October 31, 2025
Poetry Markus J

Haunted Cemetery

summoned from the underworlds brimstones and fires; nightmare beast howl to midnights lustres light- fangs drip with a lust to bite. summoned from the underworlds brimstones and fires; an unholy choir echo a demons song- from inside deaths memorial, shadows…
October 31, 2025
Science Fiction Stories Brittany Szekely

The Last Library On Europa

A lonely archivist on Jupiter’s moon discovers a forbidden book that rewrites reality The library was buried beneath Europa’s ice crust, its entrance marked only by a flickering beacon and a rusted hatch. No one came anymore. Not since the collapse of the…
October 17, 2025
Flash Fiction L Christopher Hennessy

The Moon Is A Wanderer Too

The rain came down like broken glass and the city was a wound, bleeding light and exhaust and the smell of food frying in oil that’s been used too many times. I was walking nowhere, which is the only place I ever go, and the streets were full of saints and…

From: This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

 

To: This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

 

Re: Reduced Sentence for Murder

 

Dear Neal,

 

Thank you for taking the time to work with the police recently.

 

Before I begin, I need to make it clear this message will auto delete 5 minutes from opening or if you attempt to save it. So read carefully.

 

Over the past 3 months you have been working with Detective Pater, from Metro Police. You recorded a series of interviews to aid us in our investigations. And for your generous help with our inquiries you have been promised time off your sentence.

 

The twenty year sentence you received for the rape and murder of Sharon Glass was judged by the courts as sufficient. So, with good behaviour, you’d be out in ten. But once that steel door slammed shut on your first night inside your claustrophobia told you even 10 years in that hell would kill you. So you cut a deal. Confess to 2 unsolved murders and your sentence would be halved and then halved again - pretty sweet, out in two and a half years for the rape and murder of three young girls.

 

Detective Pater came out and went through everything with you. To discover what happened to poor Cindy Russell and Catherine Vine. Recording the interviews of what you had to say. You started coy, unsure how it would play out. The detective won your confidence though. To sign the immunity papers, he gave you that beautiful onyx fountain pen you loved so much and after that you were singing like a bird. Singing for your freedom.

 

“Singing” couldn’t be further from the truth though, could it? The degraded details you revealed on how and where you carried out the 2 unsolved murders feature some horrifically accurate descriptions. I didn’t know you could “slip” while strangling someone and crush their wind-pipe. Or how anyone could rape the dying Miss Russell as “the life went out of her eyes”.

 

 

I say interviews but they have become your confessions. The recordings leave no question to your guilt and confirm, beyond any reasonable doubt, you committed the other two murders. And how heinously you committed them. However, I did laugh during the last interview when you said “I feel like the truth has set me free”.

 

Now, though, it is time for my confessions. Detective Pater is no more a member of the police than you will be a free man. When he came to see you that first time you didn’t check to see if he was from Metro Police, did you? What you can now do is check the prison register - you have been visited many times over the last 3 months by David Paris. “Friend of the Family”.

 

It is my pleasure to reveal the man who conned you was the worst kind of con. A cheap, second-rate actor who I paid off in rye. It’s a crime to impersonate a police officer so I’ll spare you his personal details. But he’ll go back to his own, private hell while you’ll remain in yours. Forever.

 

You can rest easy, the evidence we collected is inadmissible in court so the police will not be receiving copies of your confessions. I am keeping those to drag myself back into darkness whenever my mood brightens. Instead the police will receive a tip-off telling them where to find the bodies of the missing girls. Amongst the orgy of horror you left will be the onyx fountain pen you admired so much. With your unmistakable finger prints.

 

Soon your life sentence will mean life. All that now awaits you is an eternity so ugly, lost and lonely in that tiny steel box you’d be better off just curling up and using your bed sheet as an eternal gag.

 

Do not worry. You are not alone. For the last 4 years I have always had hope my daughter Cindy would be found alive. From your description, I visited her mangled, decayed corpse 5 days ago. Unable to touch her, bury her or bless her, instead of flowers, all I could do was leave that onyx pen. What I saw will be my steel box for the rest of my days.

 

Forever together,

 

Conrad Russell

Father

 

 

My name is Thom Goddard and I am a writer living in High Roding, Essex, England. I previously wrote for the BBC and other television companies. This is my first crime flash fiction.

 

 

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