Short Stories

WHEN THE LIGHTS FLICKER The coffee shop smells like burnt caramel and something else. Something sharp. Antiseptic. You blink. No. Coffee. Only coffee. The woman

THE RECORDER Day 2,847. Eli woke to the hum of solar panels charging. Bright morning light filtered through gaps in his shelter. He sat up

The Vanishing Song Marcus pressed record for the hundredth time. His fingers found the familiar pattern on the guitar strings. The melody flowed like water,

Green Code: The Last Botanists The last real plant died thirty years ago. Dr. Eliza Chen remembered the day clearly—she’d been just a child when

Retrograde Future Rain pelted against the neon-lit windows of Mason’s apartment. The constant drizzle of acid rain had become white noise to him after fifteen

The Silver Witness The 1964 silver quarter had seen more of humanity than most people ever would. Minted in Philadelphia during the last year of

The Songs I Never Sang The rain fell in sheets across the empty park as Marcus stood beneath the old oak tree, watching her silhouette

The Long Way Home Sebastian Morgan once had it all. At thirty-two, he was the owner of a thriving electrical contracting business with a team

Two souls in the Shadows Raven first saw him at the vintage record store, thumbing through vinyl collections of The Cure and Bauhaus. Ethan, with