Love
Too Much Love Can Kill You
Too Much Love Can Kill You At first, it felt like the kind of love people dream about. The kind that arrives quietly, then suddenly fills every space in your life. There were messages all day, voices late into the night, and that constant feeling of being chosen. It made the world seem smaller, safe, nothing could reach you as long as they were there. There was no distance, no gaps, no silence, and that intensity felt like something rare, something people search their whole lives for. You told yourself this was what love was meant to feel like, full, consuming, undeniable.
By George’s Girl 2026 4 days ago in Fiction
Oh My Gaaawd!!
💫🙏🤍 I don’t think of myself as a very religious person. I like to think of myself as a spiritual earthing, who can find something good and useful in every religion I’ve learned about. I believe there’s some truth to every story on the planet .. even if it’s just the source or idea that it evolved from. I’m going to share a true story of mine that I think most people will find something relatable in. It’s not well written, but it’s true and real and if it makes you smile or laugh, it makes me smile. 😃😂💫🙏🤍🕊️
By Dana Mary Colleen Campbell5 days ago in Fiction
The Word Burger is Confusing
"The end," I said. I cleared the game board off the coffee table and began to pack my bags. "I hate when people say 'the end'. It's so final and overdramatic," said Cynthia. "You know 'thee' is another way of saying 'you' in Middle English, right?" she asked. I bristled at the smug look on her face. "Are you trying to end me? Seems kinda hateful..." she said.
By A. S. Lawrence6 days ago in Fiction
Invitation. Top Story - March 2026.
The invitation was elegant for all its simplicity: The management & staff of “the Epicure” are hopeful that you might grace us with your presence as we celebrate the completion of our recent renovations at the Skyview Tower.
By Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock6 days ago in Fiction
The Fae King. Top Story - March 2026.
It began with a girl. Black-haired and sweet and gone too soon. It is the way of mortals to die, of course. Most pass within a few decades, unless they can be tempted away to fairyland and persuaded to stay there. Even then, mortals live only as long as they can go without visits to friends or family that allow time and the weight of years to catch up to them.
By Natasja Rose6 days ago in Fiction
Tony's Wedding Toast
"I’m toasting this couple, who met years ago. Lindsay was underage, so it’s good that Brent went off to graduate school. We know there’ve been ups and downs, quite a roller coaster, but love conquered all. Brent got down on one knee and placed that enormous emerald on Lindsay’s chubby finger. What? She had pregnancy fluid retention. I’m a jeweler; I’ll resize it, free. First, Lindsay Ceriddo is smart, funny, and sweet. So weird to attach Brent’s surname to Lindsay. Raise glasses! Second, Brent is an okay provider. Third, Baby Ceriddo, all the best to you when you pop out."
By Andrea Corwin 7 days ago in Fiction
Lap Cat. Top Story - March 2026.
My nose is dripping, and Delia is tracing her fingers through my hair. Her husband is shirtless by the microwave, heating up leftovers from New Year's Eve. In 60 seconds, I'll be shoving mouthfuls of risotto between my quivering lips like a child and picking at semi-stale dinner rolls. Then, I'll pass my plate to one of their three Tabby cats (whom I can never tell apart) and let him/her/them (?) lick it clean.
By Erin Latham Shea7 days ago in Fiction
Beneath the Blood-Red Sky
Dearest Count, I am afraid to tell you that I will not be able to fulfil my duties. I had thought I would kneel at your feet as you darkened the bright city lights of London with your terror, feasting upon the crimson sustenance so readily offered by wench and gentleman alike.
By Paul Stewart7 days ago in Fiction
The Cartographer of Lost Loves. AI-Generated.
Vera Matsuki had spent three years mapping places that no longer existed. Not physically—these locations still stood, their coordinates unchanged—but emotionally, temporally, they'd been erased from the collective consciousness. The abandoned drive-in theater outside Tulsa. The shuttered roller rink in Providence where someone's grandmother had met someone's grandfather in 1952. The pier in Galveston that Hurricane Ike had half-demolished in 2008, leaving it suspended between existence and memory.
By Alpha Cortex7 days ago in Fiction
