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Latest Stories

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…
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…

When I was a boy there were tales of a lady in the lake.

During the Summer months, my friends and I would ride our bicycles out there, and swim all day. Sometimes, we would take a tent, and camp out there, our parents thinking that we were having a sleep over at Joe's.

We would tell stories, trying to scare each other, and it would work, because none of us would get a wink of sleep, convinced that wild pigs might attack us, or Donny Brooke's pitbull was loose, and hunting us down. Never did we did tell ghost stories, though, because ghosts are like fairies, just something made up.

Ghosts do exist. I know now.

We were aware that people had occasionally drowned in the lake, their bodies later found tangled in the reeds. My father had been a rescue worker and told me that sometimes they would find a floater, have to slide a piece of board beneath them, remove the body that way, because the skin would be tissue thin, and brittle. He said that one time he removed a body and his fingers sunk right into them, tearing away their flesh.

My mother stressed the most, saying, “ Don't swim beneath the surface, David. Those reeds are dangerous. Beth lives in them. She'll get you. “

Beth...

Beth had been a girl who went to school with my mother and father. She was the girl with a bright future, so everyone thought. Her future was cut short by a boating accident. The propeller cut her head up and they found her a week later. She was submerged deep, tangled in those reeds.

Boys will be boys and we challenged each other to swim down to them, ignoring old wive's tales, to feel the slime upon them, to see how they wriggled and waved, like slender green fingers.

I swam down there.

Beth was beautiful and I was mesmerised.

She quickly grabbed my arm and dragged me deeper into the reeds. Her face changed and I saw what had happened to her, how she had been scalped, her face thrashed, and broken. She shrieked at me, I was terrified, and that's how I drowned.

 

End

 

BIO: I live in Orange, New South Wales, Australia. I have one child -a daughter. I was born in Sydney in 1977. My poetry has appeared in anthologies worldwide and my short stories have been published in men's magazines. I cite James Herbert, Tales from the Crypt, vintage Penny Dreadfuls, and Ripley's Believe It, or Not as an influence.

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