Fiction

Fiction includes short story or anything longer than flash fiction.




"This country. It used to be great at one point." The man continued. "Back when I was young, we would've never allowed these robots the right to vote. They cleaned our toilets. They delivered our food. They served us. That's why they exist. They are tools, no different than a wrench or a pencil. But we allowed so much to get out of control that people, those confused by the liberal rhetoric, are marrying their god damned toasters!"

Injustice



She looks at his face. It’s peaceful as he lays in his casket. No. That doesn’t feel right. Even as she thinks the word, she wants to spit it out. Casket. His casket. She shudders. It doesn’t make sense. Not that long ago, he had laid on the grass of his backyard, looking up at the moon. She had sat next to him when he’d closed his eyes in a very similar way, a smile on his face as if he had nothing to worry about. No, this was not right. It was not fair. He should not have been in that stupid box. He would not have been in it if it weren’t for her stupid advice. On that day, he wrote her a text, which was already strange. He always preferred voice chat. On top of that, it was pretty late. She was up herself because she was […]

Extremes



“Why are you doing this to me?” Philip said. William tightened his grip on his the knife. “I do it because it has to be done.” “Wouldn’t it be easier to just kill me?” “Kill you?” William shouted and slammed the knife at full force into Philip’s leg, and Philip screamed in pain. “Scream all you want,” William said. “No one will care here.” William exhaled as if he’d done a good job. Philip shook in his seat, his hands tied behind him. The room was small, an old house off to the east of the city, one of the abandoned homes that were nearly falling apart. William had picked this spot because most people on the east side were like him. They hated what had become of the city because of Philip’s kind. But William was slightly different. Unlike many of the useless people on the east side, he […]

The Cost of Happiness