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Latest Stories

March 19, 2024
Fantasy Stories Wondering Monk

Just My Imagination

The alarm clock went off and started playing an awful tune. Tom opened his eyes and closed them back, squinting. He reopened one eye and stood up to stop the torture. The phone was on the desk, in the furthest spot from the bed. Although he changed his way of…
March 19, 2024
Science Fiction Stories Ocelotlzin

Earth Is Dead

Recording… It doesn't matter who I was; I probably lived a long time ago, and I am now just a voice someone added to the audio-visual records. What is essential is the recollection of events that lead to the current state. So, a little history needs to be…
March 08, 2024
Flash Fiction Benoit

Some Enchanted Evening

It was a rugby tackle with tears: Chrissy burst in, sobbing and babbling, hugging James. Her face was all wet, eyes wild. What…? My parents split up, Dad has moved in with his boyfriend and I cannot join them. I am shut out. I have lost my dad. Torrent of…
March 08, 2024
Horror Stories Marvel Chukwudi Pephel

In The Hands Of My Legs

The car pulled up in front of the large salon. The neon sign, that sexy broad thing, on the salon'sroof read "Mr. Gil's All-night Salon". The exhaust pipe of the car was pumping solid smoke, theswirls moving from the car and towards the salon.…
March 07, 2024
Mystery Stories Vanessa Leigh Giles

Casualty of Love in the Time of Coronavirus

Chapter 1 Until Death do us Part ‘Ring, ring!’. I answered the telephone and asked, “Hello, good evening. Who’s this? “Hello.” This is Dr. Smith from Red Cross hospital. “Is this Mr. Locke, John?”, he asked, hesitantly scratching his bald head. “Yes, doctor.…
March 07, 2024
Crime Stories Robert Pook

Bar Room Trigger

Another return journey on footpaths so familiar. He strides across each crack in each paving stone. Regular loose drain covers sidestepped. Mapping long ago mapped in Richard’s desolate mind. His pace hastened by the sight of the oncoming storm. Quickening…
March 04, 2024
Horror Stories Ano Chinemerem

Sanctity

Where should I begin? I could begin by telling you about this comely boy, whom every notable person around the streets agrees his smile could charm the bills off one. Between one smile, there was his goodness, his dreams and humanity—a little far ahead?— but…
March 04, 2024
Flash Fiction Emanuel Diaz

Et Mortui Partium

As Rafael stepped out into the rain, it wasn't the ordinary drops that fell from the sky. Instead, it was a storm of souls, each one taking the form of shimmering jewelry as it cascaded toward the ground. Rubies, diamonds, and sapphires twinkled amidst the…
February 29, 2024
Poetry Jing Li Ava

London

‘Am I in London?’ "I am." Where is Elizabeth? Happy living story All of your chapter Bounlance joy Please my heart Power hand Wise mind Our baby Vow vow Love all love Miss I miss Endless wonder Bring us together Love all love Miss I miss For everything My…
February 29, 2024
Flash Fiction Rob Pook

Life Sentence of The Smith

Born nine months after his country won the World Cup.A child prodigy.Cast off at age twenty-four.Husband, father, emigree, away on the other side of the world.The blue-collar life.The dreams of success.The search for fulfillment.The long years of empty…
February 29, 2024
Mystery Stories Joshua Lowther

The Operator

Jason looked over to his right, his eyes barely able to focus themselves on the subject of his attention. His neck ached terribly from the strenuous movement. He was tired. The captain’s gaze came to rest on the rookie sonar operator sitting tense at his…
February 29, 2024
Flash Fiction Salvatore Difalco

The Chute

At dusk, we left our unit with a soft pink bundle. I carried it through the wet streets and into the black woods. I said I’d take it all the way, the bundle, but that we had to drop it in together. My wife’s green eyes flashed. “Don’t make me do that.” I…

No one remembers the day the world shattered.

They imagine it happened in a flash.

Too bright for anyone to see. Far too quick for anyone to believe. But one thing we all do remember.

It happened.

And since then nothing has ever been the same.

Four-hundred dogged years on this fractured float of rubble we call home. I see more cloud and less land everyday. Everyday more of us are consumed by the white wall.

At first it was wondrous, especially as a child, I remember skyhopping across the clouds with Reese and Van to welcome back the Scouts from their Skywanders. Those memories of home are a dream, but the days we live now are a nightmares.

We live in uncertainty. Fear of the other side. Wondering each day if we'll wake up and see The Spire amongst the horizon, or if our Skyyard will slip into the White Rush.

I've been perched at the top of my outpost for the three hours now – not even halfway through my shift - watching the sun set the clouds a vibrant swirl of purple and orange, while nursing a bitter bottle of Ironeye Whiskey.

The Scouts were due back an hour ago, but less and less come back each day now. It has gotten so bad, they don't even bother to sound the alarm any more. Each time a Scout goes on a Skywander, they go knowing it's likely their last. Returning is a privilege, not the embarking on a Skywander itself.

My mother begs me to leave my job, find work away from the White Rush. Away from The Rim. But even if I wanted to, how could I? I am not of Earthblood. I'll never be allowed to work alongside those at The Spire. They'll never see any of us as their equal.

I'm not even a scout! I'd shout. Then she'd get upset, call Van and claim I don't love her enough. But that's not the truth. Everything I do is to ease her troubles, her pain when the ghost of my father haunts her mind, when the struggles of this life we are forced to live, become too much.

Can you believe she was going to sell her Cloudforge, and give me the raise, just so I could quit? Crazy.

Forging is all she has. Seeking is all I'm worth.

The Rim is where we all belong.

I'm a lookout - an analyst if I'm drunk enough. I spend the bulk of my day lofted at the tip of an outpost, peering into the upside down waterfall of cloud that menaces before me, awaiting the return of Scouts. Though like I said, there has been less returning each day and the pressure on the Vault to produce new Scouts is on the rise. Almost anyone can get in now, since they are hosting express examinations every other week.

Reese is excited, he can't stop talking about it. This is it! I'll finally get to go on a Skywander. I try to convince him otherwise but the stubborn fool would walk into a fire if it had a “not hot” sign on it.

I wouldn't go on a Skywander, not even for all the money in Aer. It can keep all the relics and ruins. This outpost is as close as I'll get to the White Rush.

The Distants.

That's what I want. Somewhere safe, decent, away from The Rim, away from this damned white wall, and out of the clutches of those Earthblood who run The Spire.

“Col,” Reese calls from my right as he pops his head from the top of the ladder. “Col, you won't believe this!” He hunkers down beside me in his ghostly grey cloak. “Remember how I told you I was going to sign up for the Scout Regime?”

“And I told you not to, because you'll get yourself killed?”

“Yes,” Reese nibbles at his slither of a bottom lip and fights back a grin.

I turn to him with a raised brow. “But you went and did it anyway?”

He pulls the purple card from his cloak and holds it up to his face.

“They gave you a Provisional Wander License already?” His photo on a Scout card...I never thought I'd see the day – or rather I hoped I didn't. But here it is. His shaggy ginger hair flopped down on his unevenly tanned face - too many lookouts at Bright Point. The sun is intense there, due to The Scar.

“Thanks to Van,” Reese says as he scoops up the burnished brown bottle of whiskey from the rusted stool between us. “She wasn't joking about her pull up at The Spire.”

“Who else but Van.” I scoff as a harsh wind wobbles the outpost. The squeal of the wooden structure jars my nerves and I dig my nails into the arms of my splinter riddled chair. Every time. “You know these days, Scouts do not get paid as much as they once did.” I pluck the dying bottle from Reese's grasp. “In fact, they do get paid much more than you and I.”

Reese stands and walks across the cramped platform to the front - it takes him all but two strides its so small up here. “Col,” he says gazing out into the White Rush with a wide smile and a look of wonder in his eye. “It's not about the money,” he claims. “It's about the adventure, the wonder and mystery of it all. I don't want to Skywander because it'll make me rich, I want to Skywander because it'll make me free.” his face hardens. “Free from all this fear, free from the man at The Spire, even if it does only last a short while, at least I'll be free.”

I sigh.

He's right.

Although we have different ideas of freedom. One thing is true.

Above everything. We long to be free.

It feels like The Spire flips a coin when making decisions that affect the lives of people they've never seen. And to be free from that lingering fear is a dream.

The pressure for Vault's to produce more Scouts comes with the fact that there is a lack of relics returning from Skywanders. Without relics to pay the Tether Tax, they run the risk of their Skyyard's being released into the White Rush by command of the High Harrow. Maybe I'm being naïve, maybe we do need more Scouts to help maintain the longevity of our homes, but one thing I am sure of. It won't be me.

“Col,” Reese turns to me with his smile reshaped. “Sign up and become a Scout with me. We could be like Vicious and Shaw!” he buzzes over to me and shakes me by the shoulders, glaring gleefully through sour-green eyes.

I shrug him off and chuckle before taking a healthy swig from the diminishing bottle of cheap whiskey. “You must be crazy.”

When we were younger, we idolised Vicious and Shaw. They were the most famous Scouts to ever live. They always returned with sacks brimming with iridescent relics - some large enough to stand at the same height we were. But now, they are famously dead.

Victims of the White Rush.

Just like my father.

The day he never returned, was the day I stopped yearning to be a Scout. It broke me, but it tore my mother apart, I could never let her go through anything like that ever again. So my dream of being a Scout quickly morphed into a nightmare. One I never want to experience.

She still has one of his Slipskin's hung up in the basement. Seems more like torture than honour if you ask me. But she doesn't. She just sheds a tear whenever she catches a glimpse of his old Scout gear. I even refused to open the letter he left for me, I couldn't afford my mother any more pain with the memory of him.

“Reese,” I look him dead in his eye. “You know I'm never going to be a Scout.”

He sighs and his shoulders slump as he plonks back onto the stool beside me. “I know how you feel about the whole thing, because of you father and all, but you were the one that got me excited about being a Scout when we were just kids. It's just a shame that I can't do the same for you now.”

I glanced at him through a side eye. “But you're still going to try either way?”

“Of course!” He shots to his feet and snatches the whiskey from me. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?”

“Try all you like, I'm not going to change my mi-”

A frantic head pops up the from the top of the ladder. Their sun-burnt skin is flushed of its rich tone and their blonde tipped braids dishevelled, like they had rushed up the rusted bars.

“Micah?” I call. He is only a Chamber Chaser, what in the skyroots is he doing up here?

“Col.” His face grimace and drawn with dread. He pants so hard I swear I can hear his heart thump behind his little chest. “Reese.” He swallows hard and looks at us through gaped brown eyes. “It's your Skyyard.”

I rise from my seat, forgetting the crippling feeling of vertigo and step towards him. “What? What is it?”

“It's going to be released.”

A shiver slashes down my shine, causing my skin to run ripe with mountains and hills of goose bumps. It's like all the words I want to say have been stolen from me, or perhaps I have no words to say at all. I can't even turn to look at Reese, and Micah's shocked gaze is no solace.

The hum of the White Rush in the distance seems loud now, numbing, taunting...waiting.

I never thought the world would shatter again.

Mine was about to.

 

End

 

Bio: I go by K. A. Lashley. I have not been writing for very long, but the marvels of stories I have witnessed throughout my twenty and a few penny years on this smouldering rock, have ignited an inextinguishable passion for storytelling within me. I settle south of the Thames river, within the stony streets of London, currently ploughing through a Science Fantasy Novel I hope will rock the world. Contact: This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

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