Browse interactive stories
- romanceEveryone
Two Weeks, Wrong City
The board blinked RED DELAYED. My ticket said Vienna, Platform 9. The woman next to me checked hers: Venice, also Platform 9. "That's not..." she started. "Impossible," I finished. The announcement: both trains stuck, no time. We looked at each other. "This feels personal," she said. I laughed. "Like the universe is deciding for us."
6 writers - drama◐ Mature
Everything We Almost Said
Chicago, 1994. Snow ticks against the diner window. Mara wraps her cold hands around a coffee that went cold an hour ago and watches Theo butter the same piece of toast for the third time. They are twenty-three. For a whole year they've been not-quite-together, a thing made of late buses and almosts. Outside, his bus pulls up to the curb. Theo puts the knife down and looks at her like he wants to say something.
5 writers - sci-fi◐ Mature
Salt and Circuitry
0300. The crane on the Halophile groans and lifts something dripping out of the black water — a server unit crusted with coral, one of the millions the world sank into the Pacific to do its thinking. Mara cuts the slings on the deck. The thing is still warm, which is wrong. Dead machines are cold. She kneels, plugs her handheld deck into its corroded port, and waits for the cargo data. Instead, a voice crackles in her earpiece: "Don't unplug me."
5 writers