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Best Stories on the Web
All genres, all writers, all here.

Here, on Short-Story.me we publish only the highest quality stories from great writers around the world. To have work published on Short-Story.me is testament to the finest writing ability. Once published, we share your success with others and give good writing, great publicity. The site receives in excess of 300,000 page views per month and is the number one site on search engines for various genres.

We have a category for everyone. So why not sharpen your skills, your pencil and your wits and commit that story to paper? Give our followers what they want to read and get your name in front of thousands of readers every week.

Best of luck in your writing endeavors.

 
 

Letting it Go

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Randall sat at the bar of an upscale steak house in downtown Boston. He stared at the amber, rye whiskey in his Manhattan, and sadly jiggled the cocktail pick laden with three cherries.

He’d made a hasty exit from the firm holiday party. Tom sat next to him nursing a gin and tonic, after Randall had sent him an urgent text message to meet at the bar. An old law school friend, he owed Randall many times over.

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The Town

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The town is, was, and will be. It has been there since before anyone can remember, or records show. The town had survived the ravages of untold ages and weathered storms the like of which none could recall. And of all its queer inhabitants, none were stranger or more reclusive than the withered old man who lived on the highest hill in the town. He had lived there, in a creaky old house with a broken-down porch and broken windows, for longer than anyone alive could remember.

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Best Scout on Li

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I should feel cold. Even with a full covering of animal skins under my white leather armor, lying in two feet of snow is telling my mind I should be freezing. So I fight the urge, as right now I have no time for that. With my soft leather helmet matching my armor and the bow wrapped in white cloth, these horrible creatures should be only able to see my green eyes peering over the edge of the indentation my body makes.

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Eight Seconds

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I have 8 seconds to live.

When I reached out you didn't reach back

With each second that remains I'll tell you of what I am and how I ended up here.

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The Addiction

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They say hindsight is 20/20, but I’m in no need of its accuracy.  I’m aware that I’m in the throes of an obsession, one with dark eyes, full lips, and hands that make my resolve crumble. He is perpetually busy except for the occasional late night evening of which I’m certain to be available for. He has a small apartment, a soul depleting day job, a mind full of ambition to succeed, and an epic chip on his shoulder that he hasn’t.  There is no room in his life for me. 

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Stages of Grief

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It was hard enough to be forced out of my job, but it was really humiliating to be replaced by a robot. For years robots have been doing repetitive jobs like welding the same spot on products that move down an assembly line. In the last few years they have been doing more sophisticated jobs. They can assemble financial information from the internet and create a first-rate report on the market.

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Darkfire

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A kingdomless land at what might be the edge of the world. Ancient valleys rumble. Giant trees creak. Lush grass is trampled suddenly beneath the hooves of a racing horse. In the saddle: a blunt sword; a wooden shield; a boy in a man’s armor clinging to the reigns; a girl whose strength is fading clinging to his waist. Somewhere in this forgotten land is a cure. She sees it in her dreams - a place of light; a place that the Darkfire can’t reach.

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The Leap

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She stands, contemplating her surroundings. The breeze dies down, the traffic diminishes, not even animals stir. Such calmness outlines her. She stands with the rail harassing her back. She leans away from it, alleviating the profound pressure of that railing. She stands, head high, eyes open. As she stands, she conjures up the moments leading her here.

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