World War 19 (Literary, 4664)
Something in the way he asked the question made Pax frown. “I feel there’s some sort of catch,” she said, eyeing the shifty-looking kid. “No,
Something in the way he asked the question made Pax frown. “I feel there’s some sort of catch,” she said, eyeing the shifty-looking kid. “No,
Teddy stood at the altar and watched his bride-to-be appear through the beveled double glass doors, the white satin train from her gown flowing out
This story is from the fiction contest NYC Midnight. They run different contests throughout the year with different groups of writers given prompts on genre,
Day 1: After two hundred seventy days hopscotching through space I’ve crash landed on a distant planet. My ship is destroyed beyond repair; indeed, I
I walk through the meadow holding my hands to my sides, the bluebonnets bending on their stalks as I pass barefooted through their masses. It’s
This story is loosely based on a personal experience during my first year in the army. Although my experience took place during peace time, the
Snow falling, Tree limbs reaching into the sky like so many naked wooden fingers, Sky overhead in swirling gray and white and blue— I do,
I got the idea for this story during a conversation with a former co-worker of mine, about a creepy oddity she kept in her apartment.
This story was originally written for a contest that dictated the genre (horror) and had to include a watermelon and a bowling alley. Writers had
I wrote this short story for a contest whose writers had to compose a story within a 24 hour deadline. The prompts were to include