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The Haunting of Lyndsey Baker
For 22-year-old Lyndsey Baker, it was a turning point very early in her young wrestling career. She debuted for Mavens of Combat, a women's wrestling promotion that has operated for 35 years, just 18 months ago, but she has already gained a lot of steam and is looked at for contention for MOC's World Championship. Everything was coming up so quickly for Lyndsey as her career was just getting started.
By Clyde E. Dawkinsabout 2 hours ago in Fiction
City of plague:A New Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 16.
The sky that morning looked as if it had sunk into a deep gray abyss. Then, without warning, the rain began. At first the drops were scattered, but soon they grew heavier—big, bean-sized drops pounding the pavement with relentless persistence. The rain fell harder and harder until the entire city seemed swallowed by it. It had already been raining for an entire morning, stubborn and unyielding, as if the storm had made up its mind not to leave.
By Peterabout 13 hours ago in Fiction
City of plague: A New Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 15.
During the long months of lockdown, when people were asked to stay home to avoid the virus, the city seemed to lose its heartbeat.
By Peterabout 13 hours ago in Fiction
🍻The Drunken Tongue🥂
Okay, my turn! I’m Heidi’s currently drunk uncle Denny. And I ‘hck’, want to make a toast too. Hooray! ...Heidi, I love you, man.
By Lamar Wigginsabout 17 hours ago in Fiction
Questions To Be Answered
Cassandra had often wondered. What made her mother leave her? What was her mother like? Did her mother want her to have a better life? Or did she just not love her child? Was her blonde hair the same as her mother’s? Or did she get it from someone else? Would she recognize her mother if the other woman stood before her? Who gave her her name? Was it her mother or the people who’d found her?
By Reb Kreylingabout 18 hours ago in Fiction
Why a Real Zombie Apocalypse Would Probably Fail
They’re the living dead. Our nightmares wrapped in rotting flesh. Brain-hungry monsters that shuffle through our favorite shows and movies like they own the place.
By Areeba Umairabout 21 hours ago in Fiction
The Insulted and the Miraculous. Content Warning.
My mother and I found ourselves in one of those establishments--Italian, perhaps, or some pale imitation thereof--where the air is thick with the scent of garlic and the clatter of plates, and every glance from a stranger feels like an accusation.
By ANTICHRIST SUPERSTARa day ago in Fiction
The amazing small business
I think with everything that is going on in our world at the moment, so many businesses deserve the right to their few hours of fame. However, let’s spare a thought for the corner shops just like in the war they were there helping families try to get as near a normal life as possible.
By George’s Girl 2026 a day ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 14.
In late March 2020, New York City began to drown. The number of COVID-19 patients surged with terrifying speed. Each day, more than three hundred new patients were admitted to hospitals across the city. Ambulances howled endlessly through the streets, their sirens piercing the air day and night, racing from one emergency to the next. Their cries became the soundtrack of a city under siege.
By Peter2 days ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 13.
When the COVID-19 pandemic descended with merciless speed, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention—known to most of us simply as the CDC—finally released its first official public guidance. Citizens were instructed to wash their hands frequently, using soap and water for at least twenty seconds. Not a casual rinse, but a deliberate ritual: palms rubbing palms, fingers interlaced, nails scrubbed, the narrow spaces between fingers carefully cleansed. Foam, they emphasized, was essential. Soap bubbles could penetrate and disrupt the virus’s fragile outer layer, rendering it inactive and stripping it of its ability to infect.
By Peter2 days ago in Fiction
A Fucked-Up Wedding Toast - 3
Hi everyone. I’m Daniel from accounting. Mark and I worked together for six years, which is long enough to learn a lot about someone. Like how he drinks his coffee, the songs he hums when he thinks no one's listening, or the way he pushes his luxurious hair back from his eyes. And the fact that he once said he hoped to find someone “kind, patient, and steady.”
By Lana V Lynx2 days ago in Fiction
Red Moon And Killer Wolves
Red Moon And Killer Wolves Under the red moon the forest changed. Trees leaned as if listening. The wolves came, their fur dark with shadow. They did’nt growl, they did not run. They walked slow, eyes fixed ahead, as though something unseen pulled them forward. In the village a single lamp still burned. A woman stepped outside, looking up at the strange sky. She never saw them reach her. One moment she stood breathing, next the ground drank her silence. The wolves kept moving, leaving nothing behind but blood in the dirt and the heavy pulse of the moon above.
By George’s Girl 2026 2 days ago in Fiction