Top Voted Realistic Fiction

I watched the chocolate ice cream drip down from the cone to my hand in the hot august sun. It was getting dark, and I was sitting out on the stoop when I saw Zach walking down the street. He was taller now, and his usual dark hair turned honey... (more »)

The model rings the bell of my studio at nine o’clock promptly. She must have been impressed by my name, and wanted to make a good impression by coming on time. I myself do not judge people for their adherence to a clicking piece of metal... (more »)

Tyler dropped heavily onto the green plastic chair in his kitchen. He always sat in the green chair; Christine always sat in the orange. At the beginning of their marriage Christine had always said that one day when they could afford it, she was... (more »)

“Do you prefer Marcus or Marc?” The assistant art teacher asks as she writes out the labels for my photography display. I honestly don’t care, but saying that might come off wrong, so I settle for a subtler “either is fine, thanks.”... (more »)

“Keep your eye on the target and your face down. Get ready.” Jane Ann took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger on the over under shotgun. Long, dark hair complemented the emerald green eyes that the teenager possessed so proudly. She had... (more »)

The sky is a medley of shades of oranges and pinks that swirl together like a watercolour painting. I sit on the edge of the dock, my feet dangling into the grey-blue ocean as the sun sets over head. It is the middle of June and the birds circle... (more »)

Wisps of smoke curled on themselves to form overdrawn punctuation over people’s heads. Catey frowned at Julia and said, “Put that out. You know I hate the smell of cigarettes.” Julia used her free hand to flick her brown hair out of her... (more »)

She’s never been this cold before. Not the type of cold that aches in your feet and causes convulsions in your jaw; the type of cold that jams up your mind, like a song set on repeat with no power or volume dial to make it stop. Really cold.... (more »)

I am standing on the corner, hesitant, waiting for the beauty that maybe will come for me. Vulnerable, perhaps, behind my black glasses and pearled ears, zits and braces. The cars whiz past me, carriages smoothly gliding, and I watch the people. I... (more »)

The knitting club meets at the women’s center every ­Friday. Today they are working on ­pastel-colored baby socks. The women clink metal needles and grumble about their husbands, ex-husbands, and rheumatic pets. “Charlie forgot to... (more »)