-The best stories on the web-
Read or link to over 1000 stories listed under Stories to the left.
Submit your short stories for review as a Word document attached to an email to: Read@Short-Story.Me

Latest Stories

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…
October 17, 2025
Mystery Stories Brittany Szekely

The House On Wren Street

Notes: A mother rebuilding her life after domestic violence uncovers a chilling secret in her new home Isla didn’t notice the house was watching her until the second week. At first, it was just creaks in the floorboards, the way the hallway light flickered…
October 17, 2025
Flash Fiction L Christopher Hennessy

Pee Girl Gets The Milk

He met her on a Tuesday, the kind of Tuesday that feels like a leftover Monday, stale and gray and hungover from the weekend’s sins. Her name was Lita, or maybe Rita, or maybe she just said that to keep things simple. She had a cigarette halo, a ring of smoke…
October 17, 2025
General Stories Matias Travieso-Diaz

Lie To Me More

La vida es una mentira; Miénteme más,Que me hace tu maldad feliz.(Life is a lie; Lie to me more,For your wickedness makes me happy.)Armando Domínguez Borras, “Miénteme” (bolero) Out of a habit ingrained over fifty-odd years of hard work, Timmy McFarlane got up…
October 17, 2025
Flash Fiction Syed Hassan Askari

The Unseen Listener Of Moscow

It was 11:55 p.m. when he stepped out of Moscow’s Lefortovo Metro Station. His whole body ached; his legs trembled. His eyes were sleepy. He felt surrounded by unknown souls, all in a hurry to reach their destinations. He looked at the disappearing faces for a…
October 17, 2025
General Stories L Christopher Hennessy

Rearranging The Brain Furniture

She called herself Lark, though her name was probably something dull like Emily or Claire. She was nineteen, maybe twenty, with a face that looked like it had been drawn in charcoal, smudged eyes, a mouth that never quite closed, and hair that hung like wet…
October 17, 2025
Flash Fiction L Christopher Hennessy

FCAWF

She called herself Moth and said she liked the way they flew into flames without flinching. Her real name was Emily, but that was buried under layers of eyeliner, cigarette burns, and a voice that could cut glass. She was thirty, somewhat immature, vindictive…
October 17, 2025
Science Fiction Stories Kashif Imdad

Femtoria

In a dystopian future, the world had transformed into a society that was unrecognisable to those who had lived in the previous century. The nation of Femtoria stood as a beacon of prosperity, A female supremacist regime, had risen to power, enforcing a strict…
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…

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.

 

0
0
0
s2sdefault

Donate a little?

Use PayPal to support our efforts:

Amount

Genre Poll

Your Favorite Genre?

Sign Up for info from Short-Story.Me!

Stories Tips And Advice