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Best Stories on the Web

The Blind Hunter

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The early evening took its grim hold of the sky, now a dark purple veil that bled above his world. The gloom was only dispelled by the moon that peeked from behind clouds of polluted air. Night was taking over. It was the hour of his kind.

Hungry The voice whispered in the Blind Hunter as he spread his dark wings. The dusk had crept upon the wood with an icy touch, the hint of a long, dull winter to come. Like the others of his kind, the Blind Hunter couldn’t see very well, but even in his fur, he could feel the cut of the autumn’s wind, and hear the murmurs of the leaves that withered and fluttered off the old cedars.

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The Gift

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It had been another quiet day; the kind of day most would find boring.

No visitors…

No friends…

No children playing…

Not even the usual insurance agents were stopping by; just a quiet, lazy warm spring day ending with a gentle shower.

The cool raindrops against her windows woke Emily from a long afternoon nap. Unlike most, Emily enjoyed the rain. It always made her feel clean, fresh and shiny new. But she hated the winter. With a shiver, Emily remembered the day she first came to St. Christopher’s.

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Missing Marcy

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Mum got me out of bed in the middle of the night, saying “A policewoman’s here. Just answer her questions,” and she squeezed my arm hard.

In the sitting room, there was a woman on our settee. She didn’t look like the police; she wasn’t wearing a uniform and she didn’t have a crackly radio.

The lady said her name was Vicky. She apologised for getting me out of bed. “You know Marcy Mitchell?” she asked.

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Grandma's Room

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We never slept in here without Grandma, and since she died we did not want to sleep in here now, but Mama said the bed in the other room is too little for me and Richard to sleep in. She is sleeping in that bed, and Daddy is sleeping on the couch in the living room. We had to come down here because of Grandma’s funeral. She was Daddy’s mama, but Aunt Chloe who lives in Chicago with us raised him.

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How To Exterminate Vermin

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After the last total-earth war, much of human and animal life disappeared and much of earth was left uninhabitable.  However, there was an area in the western hemisphere's west that escaped devastation and some survivors found their way to that area.  What was originally a refugee camp became a city called Westra.  The fledgling society suffered growing pains.  Most disturbing to Westrians was the legal system that favored criminals, a situation that led to Vigilantism.  Bartol, a policeman by day, was a driven, violent vigilante by night.

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A Small, Gold Locket

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Most babies are given a blanket, or a teddy bear, something soft and safe that they can grow attached to. Something that their parents will be able to tease them about in front of their future boyfriends and girlfriends.

Not me. I, Dawn Hunter, first grew attached to something that wasn't even mine to attach to. My mother wore a small, gold locket that her mother wore before her. When I was crying she would pick me up and my eyes would fixate on the locket and I would suddenly become calm.

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Frey's Justice

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Frey

Frey Bethella sat on a small stool gazing blankly into space. The letter he had just read fell slowly from his grasp. He was in shock. There had been whispers and rumours among the other guards but Frey never believed it. Benson Foghearth, Captain of the Guard, was an honourable man Frey told himself. This couldn’t be true. Surely Benson would never harm an innocent. Let alone newborn babies? He felt sick, wishing now he had returned the letter instead of letting his curiosity get the better of him.

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Unbinding The Ties

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This is the apartment you’re so proud of? Sardine cans are bigger than this dump!” Vivian grimaced and made her way through the tiny living room to the dinette set. “Too bad you didn’t listen when I told you selling your dad’s house wasn’t a hot idea.”

“Aunt Vivian, the place isn’t that bad,” Helen said. “Granted, it’s small, but roomy for one person.” She pulled out a chair for her guest. “Coffee?”

The elderly lady nodded and frowned. “I saw that beat up Toyota of yours in the carport. Where’s your patriotism? You’re born and raised in America – you should buy American!”

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The Right Light

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Robert Caires sat in the dark, watching a muted television and eating hard-boiled eggs from a bowl. When he heard what sounded like teenagers laughing and cursing in the night outside, he placed the bowl on the faded pink fabric of the arm of the chair. He looked from the eggs to the bowl to the chair. His wife had loved this chair and he had always hated it; but she was long gone now and he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it.

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Willow Meadows

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Fireflies glide across the smooth surface of the pool and above branches of a young Bodhi tree shake as a blue jay takes flight batting its wings against the hot Texas day full across the backyard and up, up, up to perch as judge on the top branch of a leafy oak tree that’s been here much longer than us.

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