A curated collection of contemporary fiction short stories to read.
By Tony Eetak
The protagonist, a teenager, navigates the desolate, controlled 'festive' atmosphere of their dystopian city and home during the winter holidays. They seek a genuine moment of connection and hope for their family, leading them to an illicit market and a significant act of defiance.
By Leaf Richards
The air, thick and still, felt like a wool blanket thrown over the whole world. Redemption Gulch simmered under a sky the colour of bleached bone, the kind of summer afternoon where the heat itself seemed to press down on your lungs, making every breath a chore. Marie-Anne, her braids already escaping their ties and sticking to the back of her neck, squinted against the glare. The path leading out of town, a pale scar across the baked earth, wound its way towards the foothills, where the mountains, distant and purple, shimmered with heat. Today, though, their destination wasn't the distant peaks but the closer, forgotten pockets of the gulch, where childhood dares and whispered legends often intersected.
By Tony Eetak
The first truly warm afternoon of spring in Winnipeg carried a peculiar scent: not just the damp earth and new growth, but an underlying current of something long buried, freshly exposed. Pavement gleamed with residual moisture, reflecting the pale, hopeful sky. Across the back lane, the skeletal branches of a poplars trembled, their nascent buds clinging like tiny emerald secrets against the grey bark. The air, though gentle, still held a bite, a reminder of the long dormancy that had just passed, yet the insistent urge of life pushed through.
By Jamie F. Bell
A biting winter wind scoured the city, whipping around the grey towers of glass and steel. Snow, already old and gritty, clung to the corners of buildings and lay in crusty drifts along the sidewalks, reflecting a pale, indifferent light. Inside, the sterile hum of an office building offered little warmth, only the cold promise of another monotonous day.
By Jamie F. Bell
The air in James Carter’s study was thick, tasting of old paper and the lingering, sweet dampness of a spring rain that had just passed. Outside, the world was hushed, but within the amber glow of his desk lamp, a digital storm was brewing. His fingers, surprisingly steady, navigated the labyrinthine corners of the internet, a nightly ritual of reputation monitoring for the Greenacre Collective, his family’s venerable publishing house. Tonight, however, the digital current had snagged something truly venomous.