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Latest Stories

November 03, 2025
Science Fiction Stories L Christopher Hennessy

The Light That Wasn't God

They found the truck three days after the storm, engine still warm, doors flung open with obvious brutal force. No sign of blood. No sign of struggle. Just a half-eaten sandwich on the dash and a smear of something black and iridescent on the steering wheel.…
November 03, 2025
Romance Stories Jennifer Moffatt

Don’t Sit, You’ll Miss It

I paid for my seat. I want to sit in it without missing anything. So, when the band kicks the show off with their second-biggest hit, and the woman in front of me with black hair in a silver sequined dress leaps to her feet, I groan. Jodi, my cousin, shares a…
November 03, 2025
Science Fiction Stories L Christopher Hennessy

A Daughter Of Man

The city had no name anymore. It used to. Jack remembered it vaguely—billboards, neon, the hum of trains overhead. Now it was just a carcass of steel and ash, its bones jutting skyward like the ribs of some long-dead beast. Fires burned in the distance,…
November 03, 2025
Flash Fiction Syed Hassan Askari

Frozen Mornings

It was a cold winter, and the wind felt like sharp needles touching the skin. Trees were rustling, standing bare. The fog covered the streets. Schools were shut for winter break, and most kids spent their days sitting by the windows wrapped in quilts near the…
October 31, 2025
Science Fiction Stories Nelly Shulman

Fly Me To The Moon

The evening lunar shuttle departed on time. When the engines roared and the rocket left the steel trusses, I took a deep breath. Public transportation to the Moon had stopped being a novelty, but I still admired the pilots’ skill. “You may unfasten your seat…
October 31, 2025
Poetry Markus J

Sonnet X

they say it`s all the boomers and X`s fault- into the wound they rub the salt. we planted a seed and watched it bloom- never expected any handouts upon a golden spoon. we had to save real hard- just to buy our very first car. every day was lived hand to…
October 31, 2025
General Stories Matias Travieso-Diaz

Posters

I told Irene: "I had to shut the door to the passage. They have taken over the back part. She let her knitting fall and looked at me with her tired, serious eyes. "You're sure?" I nodded. "In that case,” she said, picking up her knitting again, "we'll have…
October 31, 2025
Romance Stories Brittany Szekely

Snap Me When You’re Home

A chance Snapchat add leads to a slow-burn love story between two strangers who become lifelong partners It started with a misclick, a blurry photo of a coffee cup that was meant for her sister that was sent to a stranger named “Jax_93.” Luna stared at the…
October 31, 2025
Flash Fiction Syed Hassan Askari

The Fate Of Her Pencil

Last year, she entered her husband’s home with hopes and quiet dreams. Dreams which every village girl sees about her secure future. Village life was harsh and unforgiving. Instead of laughter, her days echoed with commands. The smallest mistake brought…
October 31, 2025
Poetry Markus J

Haunted Cemetery

summoned from the underworlds brimstones and fires; nightmare beast howl to midnights lustres light- fangs drip with a lust to bite. summoned from the underworlds brimstones and fires; an unholy choir echo a demons song- from inside deaths memorial, shadows…
October 31, 2025
Science Fiction Stories Brittany Szekely

The Last Library On Europa

A lonely archivist on Jupiter’s moon discovers a forbidden book that rewrites reality The library was buried beneath Europa’s ice crust, its entrance marked only by a flickering beacon and a rusted hatch. No one came anymore. Not since the collapse of the…
October 17, 2025
Flash Fiction L Christopher Hennessy

The Moon Is A Wanderer Too

The rain came down like broken glass and the city was a wound, bleeding light and exhaust and the smell of food frying in oil that’s been used too many times. I was walking nowhere, which is the only place I ever go, and the streets were full of saints and…

Wimbledon has begun and our house is full of excitement. The tennis season always evokes tremendous enthusiasm from the LOH(Lady of the House). She even sacrifices her "Bold and Beautiful" TV time to "Prime Sports" and literally leaves Brooke holding her baby. Not that she is a great tennis lover, but she is an ardent fan of Ms Maria Sharapova. She watches every match that Ms Sharapova plays and her prayers for Ms Sharapova's victory become loud and clear.

I have only to applaud or comment "Well played" on a point scored by Ms Sharapova's opponent and she threatens me with a boycott which I can ill afford. Her comments while watching Ms Sharapova at play are so knowledgeable.

"Just watch! She is going to win today. She is wearing black bangles on her wrist," she exclaims in glee. Ms Sharapova's defeats are attributed to not wearing black bangles or some other trinket that the great tennis star is fond of wearing.

The other day she was absolutely ecstatic with Maria's performance.

"You know I am going to name my granddaughter Maria," she enthused.

"Don't you think that is going a bit too far?" I queried.

"Why what is wrong with it?" she countered. "We have to name her something and Maria is my favourite person."

"But what happens if she doesn't play tennis when she grows up?" I asked.

"She will play tennis," she said with finality typical of her. "And she will become a world champion too."

"And how are you going to ensure that?" I egged her on. Now she was in full flight. Her runaway fancy got the better of her.

"Catch them young! That's what I will do," she went on. "I shall give her a silver tennis racket in place of a rattle when she is born. She will develop a good firm grip right from day one," she added.

"And what about the black bangles?" I said tongue in cheek.

"Yes," she said, "She will get those too. I shall arrange to have her coached from childhood. I shall show her all the video cassettes of all Maria's matches that I am recording. I will make her a world champion. And when she does win the Wimbeldon..."

"She will tell the world 'I owe my success to my grandma. There are people who are born with a silver spoon in their mouths, but I was born with a silver racket in my hand.'" I interrupted her.

"Yes." The faraway look in her eyes and the smile of intense satisfaction on her face told me she was already dreaming of the moment.

"Come on, Darling. She has got to be the first Indian woman to sail round the world single handed," I said. The sailor in me got the better of me even though discretion dictated otherwise.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snubbed me. "When was the last time you won a race. You and your sailing! It's always some protest or the other, or a gear failure or whatever."

She did have a point there.

"But what can I do? You only pray for Ms Sharapova's win and not mine," I countered.

"I only pray for winners," she said.

"But they don't need your prayers."

Just then our son walked in. We were just warming up and the domestic battle was enjoined. He had gathered soon enough what it was all about.

"Mom and Dad, what makes you think that your granddaughter will become a sports person at all? Don't I have a say in the matter?" he asked.

"And pray what has this got to do with you?" said the LOH.

"She'll be my daughter."

"No she will be my granddaughter and she will play tennis. And that’s that," the LOH responded.

"But Mom..."

"I'll have no buts from you young man. And another squeak from you and ...."

"So Mom, you agree to my marrying ...."

"Over my dead body," she said.

"But..."

"Don't you think this is all a trifle premature?" I put in a word edgewise. That is all that I can manage on such mother-son confrontations. He is only eighteen and our dream granddaughter has many years yet before she arrives. But while we wait here is more strength to Ms Sharapova and I hope our granddaughter is not beaten to being the first Indian Woman to sail solo round the world.

 

End

 

Bio:   I have served for over 33 years in the Indian Army Corps of Engineers and am retired now. Love writing humour and short stories. I have also written books on Military History and Management. Some of my short stories were published when I was much younger. Professional commitments pushed my fiction writing to a stand still. I have the time and the inclination now and wish to share my wit with others.

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