Horror
Something is Wrong...
Something was very, very wrong. I could tell. Not anything big or loud, obvious in it's wrongness. That would have been far too noticable. Instead, it was something made wrong by an absense. Something missing or out of place. Something not immediately obvious.
By Natasja Rose26 days ago in Fiction
Tiptoeing
Dressed in her finest, Daphne silently agreed to play along in this ridiculous facade. But, if anyone could pretend that everything was okay, it was Daphne. After all , she had already successfully fooled everyone for years, making them believe she had the perfect life.
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden26 days ago in Fiction
Serve and Protect
Serve and protect, serve and protect. Uphold the law, for the good of law-abiding citizens. I wear my badge with pride. I wear my badge with honour. Protect and serve. That's what I signed up for. I stalk these streets, keeping the peace. Ensuring that the good people are safe from the riffraff that is becoming more of a problem with every day that passes.
By Paul Stewart26 days ago in Fiction
Hoodoo You Think You Are?
Victor Janssen was a man to be reckoned with. He was tall and commanding in his presentation. He was wealthy. He was a natural leader, the head of a company that employed so many employees he wouldn’t even recognize one were he to bump into any of them. He was childless and single, devoting all of his time to his vocation.
By Gerard DiLeo26 days ago in Fiction
Silken Chains. Top Story - March 2026.
Silhouettes of the female form were given flesh and bone. Silken skin glistened under the spotlight. Dry ice rose around our Icons as they danced atop their podiums in the Square. Heralded for their beauty, their movements were slight, powerful, and sensual.
By Paul Stewart26 days ago in Fiction
Becca. Top Story - March 2026.
"Everything is so... flat." Denille said stupidly as she looked around her new neighborhood. She looked around at the muted desert where even the smallest sign of life seemed to have given up. The plant life was shrubs that were half cooked by the heat and where there should have been a lawn, a mess of white rocks laid glistening in the sun. Even the sky looked stretched thin, like the sun had ironed it smooth. She’d moved from Riverside, where at least there were hills, but here in Barstow, everything felt baked and brittle.
By Sara Wilson27 days ago in Fiction






