thriller
The Last Memory: Chapters 3
Chapter Three The day had grown long and though the conversation with Pam was a nice change of pace after being alone in the cabin, Trenton was ready to go to bed. She had plans to go out and get a job the following day so she could start saving up money for her own place, and the excitement of that alone made her ready to rest up before the big day.
By Nicole Higginbotham-Hogue13 days ago in Fiction
INTERVIEW WITH A HOOKER
My name is Glen Kingston. I write articles for a magazine, which is actually a smutty rag. Paydays are usually pretty thin; not even enough coins to wear a hole in my pants pocket. I’m not proud of it but I have to somehow earn a living while writing the great Canadian novel—catchy title—might even use it. Continually coming up with good ideas for articles can get a touch difficult and when I get a brain freeze like I’ve been having lately, even sticking my head in a hot oven won’t thaw it out. So, what I occasionally do to get the grey cells working again is take myself out to meet some real live flesh and blood people, like this high-class, top of the line, if you have to ask how much she costs; then you can’t afford to hire this particular prostitute: Talulah Tight-Thighs.
By Len Sherman14 days ago in Fiction
The Last Voice Message
I wasn’t asleep. I never am anymore. Night has become a quiet battlefield for me. Thoughts line up like soldiers, memories attack without warning, and silence feels heavier than noise. So when the screen lit up, I stared at it for a long moment, unsure whether to breathe or panic.
By Salman Writes16 days ago in Fiction
Made for Love. Content Warning.
2086 — Tokiton, Eurasia. I open my eyes for the very first time. I take a look around. I can assume I am at a laboratory — pale white walls, big screens emitting blue light while displaying codes all over, at least five holo-boards with calculations written on them. And many, many silvery robot arms like a spider queen hovering above my face. What's a spider?
By Carolina Drouven16 days ago in Fiction
The Sound the Sky Was Making
The sky had been humming for three days. Not loudly. Not enough to interrupt conversation. Just a low, steady vibration, like an appliance left running in another room. You couldn’t hear it so much as feel it—behind the teeth, in the bones of the wrists.
By Tifani Power 17 days ago in Fiction
The Forest That Waits
She frowned at the ground around her. Surely there had been a trail just seconds ago; she had been following something to be this deep in the Forest. But now only sparse patches of dirt showed between thick tangles of weed and bracken, and she could neither find the path nor entirely remember if there had ever been one. A slow unease crept through her. She had come here for a reason. Hadn’t she? Everyone knew entering the Forest was a terrible idea. She was certain she had believed that once. Or had she? There had been a Before. She felt it faintly — lines carved into the ground, walls made of trees but not of trees, voices carried on wind instead of leaves. Something important hovered just out of reach. She gasped. “Ezra!” The name struck like lightning. She ran. Branches scraped her arms as she pushed forward, heart pounding, breath tearing from her chest. No need for a trail now. She remembered the child running — small footsteps disappearing into green shadow, laughter turning to silence. “Ezra!” The word burned in her throat. Not the first time she had shouted it. Her aching legs told her she had run for miles. Her drifting thoughts suggested she had been running longer than a day. The Forest did not answer. A clearing opened before her, sudden and perfect. She stumbled into it and fell to her knees, gasping. The air felt different here — too still, too calm. She sat where she had fallen, trying to gather fragments of memory. A town. A home. Raised voices. The child running. Running into the Forest. She squeezed her eyes shut. In stories, clearings brought answers. She wanted very badly to leave this one. When she opened her eyes again, the space felt almost rehearsed. The clearing was perfectly round. Sunlight fell in deliberate shafts through the canopy above, illuminating jewel-bright birds darting after insects. Wildflowers spread in careful arcs, drawing butterflies in flashes of impossible colour. Everything was beautiful. Everything was wrong. Sweat beaded on her skin despite the gentle breeze. Ezra was not there. But a narrow trail broke through the bushes at the far edge of the clearing. Hope surged through her — sharp and painful. She moved toward it. Then she saw the light. Off to one side, beyond the trees, a brightness shone — harsher than the clearing’s glow, like early morning breaking through fog. The edge of the Forest. Her breath caught. If she stepped toward it, she could leave. She felt it — freedom waiting just beyond the trees. Had Ezra already escaped? Was the child waiting there, safe? Or had Ezra gone deeper instead? The clearing held its silence. The same birdcall rang out — clear, identical, as if repeating a note long practiced. She hesitated. If she left now, she might never return. But if Ezra waited beyond the trees… She bit her lip, gazing toward the light. Then she turned back toward the trail. A few steps beyond the clearing she stopped again. Footprints marked the mud. She crouched. They overlapped each other — worn deep into the earth, not one path but many, layered together as if walked again and again. Her breath faltered. Slowly, she placed her foot into one of the prints. It fit perfectly. They were hers. And they were old. A cold understanding brushed against her mind — something vast and terrible and almost clear — but it slipped away before she could grasp it. The trail stretched ahead, waiting. She swallowed and stepped forward. The trees closed behind her with quiet patience. Moments later she paused again, uncertain. She frowned at the ground around her. Surely there had been a trail just seconds ago… Somewhere deeper in the Forest, the same birdcall echoed once more — unchanged, unhurried. And the Forest waited.
By Mina Carey17 days ago in Fiction
