family
True Story
“True story,” is how she starts every story before launching into the most implausible tale. Last night, she claimed the moon was stalking her, said she caught it, shrank it to marble size. I chuckled until she reached into her pocket and pulled out the luminous orb.
By Tina D. Lopez8 days ago in Fiction
When We Looked Up
I lived in a small town where everything was stale and everyone knew about each other — but not too small that everyone would remember each other. Lots of movement and faded noise from daily activities. The only sense of joy that made you smile came from movies about big, bright cities and stories told by people who traveled anywhere beyond the next two big towns.
By Vincent Palmer 9 days ago in Fiction
The Skull Washed Ashore
The Skull Washed Ashore The tide was slow that morning, dragging itself across the shore with a heavy sound that seemed to settle into the bones rather than pass through the ears, and the sky hung low in a dull grey weight that made the whole stretch of beach feel closed in, as though the world had narrowed to that one place and refused to open beyond it. I had walked there many times before, enough to know every shift in the sand and every curve of the shoreline, yet that day something felt wrong in a way that could not be easily named, something quiet and watchful that seemed to exist just beyond the edge of thought.
By George’s Girl 2026 9 days ago in Fiction
Too Much Love Can Kill You
Too Much Love Can Kill You At first, it felt like the kind of love people dream about. The kind that arrives quietly, then suddenly fills every space in your life. There were messages all day, voices late into the night, and that constant feeling of being chosen. It made the world seem smaller, safe, nothing could reach you as long as they were there. There was no distance, no gaps, no silence, and that intensity felt like something rare, something people search their whole lives for. You told yourself this was what love was meant to feel like, full, consuming, undeniable.
By George’s Girl 2026 9 days ago in Fiction
Worrying
Roger leaned over his drafting table, scrutinizing the blueprints spread before him. The midmorning sun streamed through his office window filling it with much appreciated light and raising the temperature to an unwelcome level. He could feel a little bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck.
By A. J. Schoenfeld11 days ago in Fiction
