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Latest Stories

September 27, 2025
Flash Fiction Syed Hassan Askari

Half an Hour to Fourteen

Last night she lay on her bed with a curly-haired doll close to her chest. She was looking at the clock hanging over the door. Only half an hour was left —her life’s digit would turn from thirteen to fourteen, a change that felt like a heavy blow to the…
September 27, 2025
Romance Stories Nelly Shulman

Till We Meet Again

“Would you like more coffee?”The server in the orange apron lowered the pot, but Cath muttered, “No, thank you.”Her voice trembled, and the server busied herself with the next table. Outside the window, fog enveloped Waterloo Bridge. The morning was quiet,…
September 23, 2025
Flash Fiction Leroy B. Vaughn

Another Farewell To Arms Reunion

We were sitting in a little café in Wickenburg Arizona eating lunch when my wife looked at me and said, “I can’t believe you’re actually going to this reunion after you told all of your buddies that there was not a chance in hell that you would go.” “I know…
September 23, 2025
General Stories William Kitcher

A Political Solution

The Rt. Honorable Leader/Head of Council/First Governor/Chief Minister/Premier/President/Chancellor/First Minister/Party Secretary-General entered his office, and looked out the open window. It was a beautiful sunny cool day, and the cherry blossoms shone in…
September 23, 2025
Fantasy Stories M.D. Smith IV

Boat Of The Dead

A double-edged knife thrown at my head by a drunk in a tavern where we tried to restore order, sliced my ear, and stuck in the wall behind me. A near miss. We took them all to the dungeon. I’d had my fill of this kind of work. Still a young man in 1111, a…
September 23, 2025
General Stories Jo Gatenby

Better Safe Than Sorry

After watching his parents’ marriage slowly implode, Matthew decided love was not for him. Theirs had lasted long enough to ensure his birth, but thereafter it seemed to diminish in direct proportion to the number of years they spent together. The frown…
September 23, 2025
Flash Fiction K. Imdad

Abbey And The Resistance

The year is 2088 Following the catastrophic world war that left humanity on the brink of extinction, the last remnants of humanity rebuilt, survivors established communities amidst the devastated terrain. The city lies in ruins towering skyscrapers now…
September 23, 2025
Horror Stories Brittany Anne Szekely

The Stuff Of Nightmares

When she woke up there were seventeen voice messages from a stranger. The first was breathing. Wet, laboured, like someone trying to inhale through a mouthful of blood. The second was a whisper: You left the window open. By the fifth, her hands were shaking.…
September 23, 2025
Poetry Markus J

More Than A Soft Toy

There once was a child from Adelaide, who had a teddy called Marmalade. taking each other by the hand, they roamed imaginations land: there, they never turned scared or afraid. this world they only had each other, no mother, father or big brother. on a tandem…
September 10, 2025
Horror Stories Brittany Anne Szekely

The Taste Of Long Pig

The wardrobe was small, but it smelled like cedar and old coats, and that made it okay. Mum had lined the bottom with a blanket and tucked my stuffed bear beside me. She called it quiet time, and sometimes it lasted until the moon came out. “ Be good, my…
September 10, 2025
General Stories Matias Travieso-Diaz

The Red Oak

An oak tree is an oak tree. That is all it has to do.If an oak tree is less than an oak tree, then we are all in trouble.Nhat Hanh A majestic red oak (Quercus rubra) stood alone atop a hillock. It was almost a hundred feet tall and had a trunk four feet in…
September 10, 2025
Flash Fiction Brittany Anne Szekely

Some Women Are Made Of Neon Bones

The house had been abandoned for years, but it stood like it remembered being loved. The walls were cracked, its windows shattered, and the front porch sagged like it had been holding its breath too long, but beneath the decay something pulsed, like neon…

They say hindsight is 20/20, but I’m in no need of its accuracy.  I’m aware that I’m in the throes of an obsession, one with dark eyes, full lips, and hands that make my resolve crumble. He is perpetually busy except for the occasional late night evening of which I’m certain to be available for. He has a small apartment, a soul depleting day job, a mind full of ambition to succeed, and an epic chip on his shoulder that he hasn’t.  There is no room in his life for me.  Well, I suppose there exists a miniscule amount of room he sometimes creates and I oblige, but with the clear ache of wanting more.

 

It is Thursday about noon.  I will hope he asks to see me tomorrow.  And if he does, I will say yes. I will smile when he texts, my heart will pitter pat when I see him, I will make the drive out to his place and accept he’d rather not take me out but stay in, I will tell him I miss his face, I will spend time thinking about him and how good he feels, I will long for him, I will hope he changes his mind about me, I will wish that maybe next time he’ll ask me to stay.

 

I will go to work looking forward to the end of the evening when I’ll see him.  I’ll focus on the pile of papers strewn about my desk, pay absolute attention to my co-workers’ needs because being engrossed is the only way to make the time pass.  I’ll drive home in heavy traffic and allow my mind to wander about what to wear later.  I’ll be home and try to relax, clean a little to pass the time, and read more lines of a book without grasping the layers of meaning beneath.

 

Then I’ll get in the shower.  I’ll scrub, I’ll shave, and I’ll wash.  I’ll lotion, apply make-up, and curl my hair.  I’ll give myself too many look-overs in the mirror to make sure I appear just right before leaving.  Then I’ll listen to music on the drive and sing in the car.  My spirits will be up.

 

I’ll arrive.  He’ll be dressed down, offer me wine, and we’ll chat on his couch.  Then he’ll kiss me.  I’ll kiss him back.  We’ll talk some more and have a second glass of wine.  Before the conversation will exhaust itself he’ll kiss me with more demand and I’ll moan into his mouth.  We’ll get off his couch and go to his bed.  He’ll undress himself and then me in between urgent kisses.  We’ll fuck.  It’ll feel amazing.  I may or may not cum.

 

We’ll stay naked in his bed, tired, out of breath.  We’ll talk some more.  Then he’ll fuck me again.  He’ll ask me what I want and I won’t have any clue how to answer.  I have extremely limited sexual experience, a disposition toward shyness, and the degree of that isn’t entirely clear to him.  He’ll cum.

 

We’ll talk a little longer and then I’ll hope he’ll ask me to stay, but he won’t.  So, my heart will sink a bit as I pick up my clothes strewn across his bedroom floor.  I’ll dress and tell myself that it’s okay.  I don’t need to stay the night.  It doesn’t matter.

 

He’ll walk me to my car.  I’ll kiss him one more time, my hands on his face, his hands on my waist.  It’ll be about one in the morning.  I’ll get home before two.  I won’t be tired.  I’ll be re-thinking the whole evening and wondering what I’m doing and when I’m going to stop.

End

Bio: Dorothy Kollat is the author of The Oasis Resort series and The Writer's Desire. She lives in California.

 

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