Read stories written by talented authors from around the globe.

When one survives a date with death, one must live with what follows. The aftermath. The echo. The wardrobe of regret... and the color never quite fades. I’m back in court again. Not legally. Mentally. This is my sixth trial since her funeral. Same courtroom: a dimly lit room in my head. Same furniture: cracked floor tiles, a flickering lightbulb swinging like guilt’s pendulum. I’m on trial for the crime of survival. Same...

Never had Koushik come to this part of the main village before. It was situated on the very edge of the cluster of huts, and only a few miles from that, the village ventured into the nearest rainforest.  If Abbu and Ammu knew where he was right now, they would yell at him and never let him out until he was grown. But Ammu and Abbu did not have to know, did they? And his guard could be dim-witted at times, so Koushik did...

Black Box Theatre Presents EDGAR DRAMATIS PERSONAE Edgar, forty-year-old male, children’s books author, married to Lenore Lenore, forty-year-old female, housewife, married to Edgar Raven, black bird, lives in a tree on Edgar’s property INTRODUCTION Music plays thirty seconds of Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major, then fades. ANNOUNCER: Good evening, patrons of the arts. Welcome. A reminder that no flash photography or smoking i...

The prison gates opened slowly, without sound. No clang, no warning bell, just the quiet roll of steel parting from steel. A guard stepped aside and gave a small nod, more reflex than gesture, already turning back before the man had cleared the threshold. Earl stepped out carrying a canvas duffel that sagged near the seams. He paused, taking in the sky with a look that wasn’t awe or relief, just recognition. The light had...

Ruggero Amalfi, the self-proclaimed 'man of culture', had entered stealthily, his eyes scanning the room with predatory intent. He moved cautiously, unaware of where the prized 'Don Quixote' volumes might be hidden. Without a moment's hesitation, Enzo sprang to his feet, barking fiercely. Fred followed suit, quickly rising from his chair. "Enzo, get him!" he shouted, and the loyal canine lunged at Ruggero with fierce dete...

There lived in Toscana a young man whose name was Fred. He had devoured many books, but one remained unread: the 'Don Quixote'. His curiosity was piqued, and he was determined to read it someday in the future. His prized possession was a first edition of the 'Don Quixote', a treasured family heirloom passed down through generations. Two hundred years had passed since it was first published in AD 1605. Fred's father, Anton...

Alone in my thoughts, I'm slowly fading Lost in my own clouds, I sure need some healing Pain runs through my veins, maybe it's now my companion Each day, uncertainty awakens with me and stays to prove its dominion Shadows from the past dance on my wall Loud echoes from the past, keeping me frail Light fades, Darkness flames I want success, I want it to bear my name It's gloomy and I need light I need a star to guide me th...

“No Robots Allowed!” is scrawled in red letters on a piece of wood crookedly hanging beside the door. The bar resides on the edge of town just past the blue billboard with a smiling sun in one corner and the bright yellow letters “Welcome to Eddyville!” across the middle. My head rotates between the welcome sign and the sign on the door, then I decide to turn the knob and enter. The lights are brighter than expected for a...

Taraneh stood in front of a mirror, and compared the reflection to a picture published in an old newspaper. There was hardly any resemblance. It was not merely about the age, but mostly about the spirit. In the picture, published along with an interview with her, she looked hopeful and determined, but now, she couldn't even fake those emotions on her face. Taraneh used to write for children and teenagers of Iran. She even...

It was war. That thing that burrowed deep inside them and ate away at their humanity. And amidst the best battle plans and strategic positions, only three words echoed inside their helmeted heads—don’t get hit. Only a select few would refuse to surrender when the odds were stacked against them; those who could overcome the most hardened human instinct—self-preservation—and battle on. When the first shot was fired, chaos e...

When one survives a date with death, one must live with what follows. The aftermath. The echo. The wardrobe of regret... and the color never quite fades. I’m back in court again. Not legally. Mentally. This is my sixth trial since her funeral. Same courtroom: a dimly lit room in my head. Same furniture: cracked floor tiles, a flickering lightbulb swinging like guilt’s pendulum. I’m on trial for the crime of survival. Same...

“No Robots Allowed!” is scrawled in red letters on a piece of wood crookedly hanging beside the door. The bar resides on the edge of town just past the blue billboard with a smiling sun in one corner and the bright yellow letters “Welcome to Eddyville!” across the middle. My head rotates between the welcome sign and the sign on the door, then I decide to turn the knob and enter. The lights are brighter than expected for a...

The prison gates opened slowly, without sound. No clang, no warning bell, just the quiet roll of steel parting from steel. A guard stepped aside and gave a small nod, more reflex than gesture, already turning back before the man had cleared the threshold. Earl stepped out carrying a canvas duffel that sagged near the seams. He paused, taking in the sky with a look that wasn’t awe or relief, just recognition. The light had...

Taraneh stood in front of a mirror, and compared the reflection to a picture published in an old newspaper. There was hardly any resemblance. It was not merely about the age, but mostly about the spirit. In the picture, published along with an interview with her, she looked hopeful and determined, but now, she couldn't even fake those emotions on her face. Taraneh used to write for children and teenagers of Iran. She even...

David was a loner, but never alone. He always had his thoughts. He encountered Mrs. Scott as she left the grocery store. “Hello, David, how are you today?” Like you give a shit. “I'm just fine, it's such a beautiful morning. Here, let me help you with those bags.” Why the hell don't you use a cart like normal people. “Thank you, David, you're such a nice boy, the car's right over there.” I know where your car is, you old...

An introduction to the reader. This is something I have been working on for a while. It was actually written quite quickly (in the space of 30 days) and then put aside to be polished, a process that has gone much more slowly. I think it needed a home before I was ready to finish it, and this site feels like that home. Funny, but a week ago, before I knew of the existence of Stories Space I had a sudden urge to finish this...

“You’re asking me how it’s going?” I said incredulously. “How can you ask me that? I’m paralyzed and I’m dying, for god’s sake!” “Well you don’t have to be sarcastic!” came the response. “And besides, you’re not dead…..yet. By the way, my name is Waldo. Nice to meet you.” Waldo flew over my head singing ‘Getting to know you…..getting to know all about you…..’ I learned later that he often did things like that; he had been...

Love is life’s cruel mistress, And life’s crowning triumph. Love embitters the soul, yet conquers the heart. Love is never easy, And will die without toils. It is languor and sweat, the power and rejuvenation. Love brings this man to his knees, pushes his face into the dirt. It gives light into his darkness, and delivers joy to his world. Love grows in the wound and the healing. It is the dusk and the dawn. Love allows no...