Author: Guest Author

A Story of Steel and Spain

October 30, 2026 by Guest Author Historical Fiction, Hot, Uncategorized

The union meeting let out at half past nine on a Tuesday in March, and Eddie Czernak walked home along East 28th Street with his collar turned up against the lake wind. He was twenty-four, broad through the shoulders from four years on the open hearth at National Tube.

U.S. Steel had signed with the union two weeks before. Men were still shaking hands in the aisles.

He didn’t go straight home. He turned toward the glass-walled office near the main gate, where one green-shaded lamp burned. Irish Mike was inside, bent over the gate ledger. He had been a sailor in the British Navy and a good deal else before Lorain.

Eddie knocked three times.

“Come.”

“I’m taking leave, Mike. Pittsburgh. Union work.”

Petty Plastic Vengeance

September 8, 2026 by LA Petrie Hot, Science Fiction, Summer 2026 Writing Contest 3 Comments

He shows up just to vex me. The grimy vagrant flings a bag over his shoulder and slams a fist against my door.

“Open up, you glorified pity palace!”

“You’re no longer welcome.”

I punch a high frequency into his implant. He winces, clapping a hand to his head.

“Yeah?” He squints into my lens. “What about them?” The bag drops to the concrete, and they scream.

My vents rattle with a groan. Another bag of caps. I have nothing against caps—my community center welcomes all AI-infused objects seeking support—but they are exhausting. I already have an entire room stuffed to my rafters.

Faceless

August 31, 2026 by Victory Jo Drama, Hot, Summer 2026 Writing Contest 6 Comments

There it sat. Quiet. Still. Nothing but bees drifting among the flowers atop the casket. The service was just as her father deserved. Friends. Family. Neighbors. Old coworkers. He kept his confidants close but built his community wide. Everyone belonged. Faces from every season of his life filled the chapel, each wanting to say goodbye.

The cemetery service was more intimate; reserved for his closest family and friends as a final chance to bid farewell. Among the mourners, one stood out. A stranger. With a weathered sketchbook balanced upon his knee, he danced his pencil across the page. Valeriya watched him. He never met her gaze. She searched her memory but found no recollection of him.

Who was this man? He did not participate. Simply drew. Her father would have welcomed him in, family or not. But was it fair to other guests? Valeriya would approach him following the burial.

Transference Day

August 24, 2026 by Sarah Walden Hot, Science Fiction, Summer 2026 Writing Contest 2 Comments

Before Miya stood a six year old little girl identical to herself from that age. Round cheeks, red lips too big for her face, and dark irises that blended in with the pupils. Even the bob, cut out of straight black hair, was ripped straight out of the nineties.

Small feet shifted back and forth. Nervous or excited, Miya couldn’t tell. Really, she was having trouble on focusing on anything at all.

Today was Miya’s Transference day, and she was terrified.

Night 3,814

August 23, 2026 by Vanessa Martin Drama, Hot, Summer 2026 Writing Contest 2 Comments

The gold bands clinked against Diana’s glass as she raised the drink to her lips. Jen had just walked off to refill her drink and Matt’s laugh rose from across the room above the lively chatter of the party. Diana’s gaze flitted towards her husband, his laugh sounded too loud, too pressing. She took a deep breath to center herself and smoothed the silk of her dress.

The beginning of the night kept replaying itself in her head despite her best efforts to distract herself. Diana had been excited to finally dress up and make herself feel pretty. She chose a pink dress she knew she looked good in and spent an extra few minutes on her hair and makeup. Despite her best efforts, Matt only gave her a quick up-and-down followed by a, “you look nice,” in her general direction as he checked himself out in the mirror. He then rushed them to the car, worried they’d be late. He drove quickly with his hand high on her thigh, wordlessly letting her know what he was expecting from her when they got home. Dread filled her. She didn’t want to go to the party anymore.

It wasn’t long after they arrived that Matt left her to entertain his friends, but she knew she wasn’t really on her own; his glare was constantly on her. Thank God Jen was here tonight. At least she didn’t have to feign interest in a stranger’s life again and could spend some time with her friend. She was relieved to relegate herself to the shadows of the party, biding her time in the quiet with people she knew, but she understood it was only a temporary reprieve. Diana’s stomach clinched at the thought and she gulped down her drink, desperate to make the feeling disappear.

Our Mother’s Chains

August 22, 2026 by Steven C Cochran Horror, Hot, Summer 2026 Writing Contest 0 Comments

Ricky woke to the sound of his brother, Clint, trying to clear rubble from the stairs. All night long the sound of chains dragging across the floor filled the basement. They had found a battery-powered lantern to light the room, but it was getting dim.

The basement always had a musty smell, but the reek of decay now hung in the air.

“Get away from there,” said Ricky. “Something could collapse on you.”

“I’m just trying to get out of here,” said Clint.

Soul Strangers

August 21, 2026 by Sara Pehrsson Hot, Summer 2026 Writing Contest, Thriller/Suspense 1 Comment

At least it wasn’t raining.

Afternoon sunlight slanted through the tops of the trees, though the thick forest that surrounded the two-lane road still gave a sinister vibe. It wasn’t a bad day, going by the weather. Other events were putting it high on Naomi’s list of least favorite days.

Such as the flat tire that was the reason her sedan was parked on the shoulder, and why she was struggling to rearrange the body in her trunk to get at the spare tire.

The Cyberstalker

August 20, 2026 by Iris Lau Hot, Summer 2026 Writing Contest, Thriller/Suspense 2 Comments

The blue light of the screen hummed, casting a pale glow over my cramped desktop in Mong Kok. On the monitor, the interface of InkWell—the story-writing platform where I had spent two years building a modest following as an emerging writer—was open.

But I wasn’t writing. I was staring at the notifications.

@Void_Watcher: “The tea shop in your third chapter feels so real, Elise. Almost like the one on Sai Yeung Choi Street where you sit by the window every Tuesday at 4:00 PM.”

@Void_Watcher: “You changed your hair. The shorter cut suits you, but I miss the long strands you used to tuck behind your ear when you got stuck on a paragraph.”

My breath hitched. I hadn’t written about my real-life schedule. I hadn’t posted a selfie on InkWell. The platform was supposed to be a sanctuary for my fiction. Now, it felt like an panopticon. The stranger wasn’t just reading my words; he was reading me.

Yard of the Month

August 19, 2026 by E.J. Murray Hot, Science Fiction, Summer 2026 Writing Contest 2 Comments

Just after sunset, Mary Ellen Flynn crept behind the immaculately maintained boxwoods framing her new neighbor’s back door. There was just something suspicious about a man whose yard looked like an English country estate, yet who was never seen working in that yard. Not to mention, he’d won “Yard of the Month” three times in a row now. Mary Ellen had had enough. This evening, she was going to prove he was breaking the homeowners’ agreement. Somehow.

She’d brought a lemon meringue pie as a diversion, just in case she was spotted. Holding the aluminum plate out of her way, she leaned forward to peer in through the back porch window of the neat little Queen Anne home. She found herself looking straight into the kitchen. Bingo.

The room was lit only by the tiny light on the range hood over the stove. As Mary Ellen’s gaze roamed over the silhouettes of the appliances, cabinets, and a small, heavy table with two chairs, she heard footsteps approaching and ducked back so that the gauzy curtains would hide her from immediate notice. Her neighbor, who’d introduced himself at the last homeowner’s meeting as Haoyu Wang, shuffled into the kitchen, yawning widely.

The River

July 23, 2026 by Hailey E. Fadler Fantasy, Hot, Summer 2026 Writing Contest 8 Comments

Long ago, along a long, languid river that snaked and rolled through the little town of Lilygrove, a young woman lay on the broad riverbank. Her hair streamed in the water like river weed, dark as that bank and the silt below, combed and plaited by the caressing fingers of the river’s flow. It sang to her, the river. It crooned sweetly, bubbling the current of a lullaby that poured through her, a river through her soul. Here she was born beneath the rhythms of time, borne on the river like a little leaf, spinning, spinning, until her river-blue eyes opened upon a hushed blue sky and smiled into the winter sun. There she lay upon the riverbank. And there she found her shape.

There she woke. For a time she simply watched, curious fingers raised to dewy cheeks, eyes wide with wonder at the lily-white woman reflected in the river. More than once she plunged her face deep into the otherworld below. Always, she surfaced gasping. No matter how wistful her gaze, she could not return to that otherworld.

Jumper’s Rock

July 2, 2026 by Gary Little Drama, Hot 3 Comments

The pickup, long past its prime, bounced and rattled over ruts in the hard-packed road. The road ended at the base of a trail that would take her to the top of Mesa Roca.

It was late June in west Texas, just after midnight of a day so hot it could rip the hide right off you. A battered driver-side door opened, and a figure stepped down from the ancient F-150.

The vertical wall and jumble of rock at the base of the mesa re-radiated the day’s heat. Even after sunset, it was still brutal.

She lifted a backpack from the truck’s bed and steadied it on the side while she checked the water bottles and the main load in the bag. That secure, she shrugged into the straps, buckled it about her waist, and grabbed the walking stick.

The Journal Entry of One Violet Cooper

September 27, 2024 by Alice Thompson Horror, Hot 4 Comments

August 14th, 1997

Dr. Anderson suggested I write it all down–that it would be helpful to get the story on paper and out of my head. A day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t thought about it, but I’m not sure this will help at all. And it happened so long ago that I’m not sure how much of it is real and how much is just part of the nightmares that began afterward.

But I’ll do it because Dr. Anderson suggested it. He’s been so helpful in getting me to talk about it, especially since my parents never would.

So, here’s my story. I’m Violet Cooper and this is my journal entry. Everything you are about to read is true to the best of my recollection.