Short Stories

Mira Thorne squinted against the harsh glare of the setting sun as her rental car bounced along the rutted dirt road. Fields of golden wheat stretched endlessly on either side, swaying gently in the warm summer breeze. She’d been driving for hours, the monotonous landscape broken only by the occasional dilapidated barn or rusted farm equipment. Just as she was beginning to wonder if she’d missed a turn somewhere, a weathered wooden sign appeared: “Welcome to Millbrook - Population 317.” Mira let out a sigh of relief. After weeks of preparation and a grueling journey, she had finally arrived. ...

Mabel Hawkins squinted at the horizon, her leathery hands shading her eyes from the harsh morning sun. Another scorcher, she thought, clicking her tongue in disapproval. The old farmer’s gaze swept across her modest plot of land—five acres of scrubby grass, dotted with gnarled oak trees and weathered outbuildings. Her pride and joy stood in the nearest paddock: a small herd of goats, their coats gleaming in the early light. ...

Mara Reeves stood on the weathered porch of her newly acquired cabin, inhaling deeply. The crisp mountain air filled her lungs, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. She closed her eyes, savoring the stillness that enveloped her. No car horns, no sirens, no incessant chatter of a bustling city. Just blessed silence. Opening her eyes, Mara surveyed the dense forest that surrounded her new home. Towering pines stretched as far as she could see, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. This was it. Her fresh start. Her escape from the suffocating pressure of her former life as a high-powered corporate attorney in Chicago. ...

The sand whispered secrets as Nora trudged up the dune, each step sinking into the shifting grains. The desert wind carried phantom voices, snippets of conversation that vanished when she tried to focus on them. Sweat trickled down her neck despite the chill in the air. “Dr. Frost?” she called out, scanning the vast expanse of sand. No response came except the endless susurration of the dunes. Nora checked her satellite phone again. Still no signal. She’d lost contact with base camp hours ago, shortly after Dr. Eleanor Frost had ventured out alone for what was supposed to be a quick survey of the dig site. Now the sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sand in shades of amber and gold. ...

Eli’s breath came in ragged gasps as he pressed his back against the cold metal wall, clutching his bleeding arm. The security hub loomed before him, a fortress of gleaming steel and pulsing lights. He’d known it wouldn’t be easy to infiltrate, but the reality was far worse than he’d imagined. The wound stung, a deep gash where a laser grid had caught him unawares. Eli gritted his teeth, fighting to stay conscious. He couldn’t fail now, not when he was so close to the truth. ...

The ground shook beneath Mira Thorne’s feet as she sprinted through the dense pine forest, dodging fallen branches and leaping over exposed roots. Behind her, a deafening roar filled the air, accompanied by the sickening sound of splintering wood and crumbling earth. She risked a glance over her shoulder and her breath caught in her throat. Where the center of Pinewood Grove had stood just moments ago, a gaping maw of darkness now yawned, swallowing buildings whole as it spread outward at an alarming rate. ...

Mia Chen’s pencil hovered over her sketchpad, her mind as blank as the paper before her. Around her, other students in Mr. Holloway’s art class chattered and laughed, but Mia remained silent, withdrawn into her own world. She’d always felt like an outsider at Evergreen High, but never more so than in this moment. “Having trouble finding inspiration, Miss Chen?” Mr. Holloway’s gravelly voice startled her. The eccentric art teacher peered down at her empty page, his wild gray eyebrows furrowed. ...

Nadia’s fingers trembled as she traced the jagged cracks in the old stone wall. Dust and debris clung to her skin, a gritty reminder of all that had been lost. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Beneath the acrid smell of smoke, a faint hint of olives lingered—a ghost of what once was. Five years. Had it really been that long since she’d fled her beloved Aleppo? The city of her childhood now lay in ruins, its ancient streets and vibrant markets reduced to rubble. Yet here she stood, drawn back by an inexplicable pull she couldn’t quite name. ...

Zara Thorne squinted at the holographic display, her heart racing as the ancient coordinates materialized before her eyes. After months of painstaking research and countless dead ends, she’d finally pinpointed the location of the fabled New York time capsule. A treasure trove of pre-Collapse artifacts, perfectly preserved for over 150 years. “This is it,” she whispered, a grin spreading across her face. “The find of the century.” With trembling fingers, Zara reached out to manipulate the 3D projection, zooming in on the precise GPS coordinates. The capsule’s location pulsed like a beacon, buried deep beneath the twisted ruins of old Manhattan. ...

The heat hit Lena like a wall as she stepped out of Marrakech Menara Airport. She squinted against the bright Moroccan sun, hefting her camera bag higher on her shoulder. All around her, a cacophony of voices called out in Arabic, French, and heavily-accented English. Taxi drivers waved and shouted, eager for fares. The scent of spices and exhaust fumes mingled in the air. Lena felt adrift, unsure where to begin. This assignment was supposed to reinvigorate her work, but so far she only felt overwhelmed. She’d pitched a photo series on the hidden corners of Marrakech to her editor, hoping it would reignite her passion for photography. Now, faced with the bustling reality of the city, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. ...