Apocalypses didn’t happen every day, but once they got started, they had this annoying habit of going about their business.
Those who exercised reasoning were the first to go, followed by fans of survival shows (they believed they understood the wilderness, having never left the confines of their paved-and-plastered twenty-fourth-floor apartments and most ended up eating the wrong type of mushroom in the first week). The hoarders did all right, at least for the first while. And the jerks? They made it all the way to the end, because nature loved adding a thorn to a rose bush. It turned out that at the end of the world, those CEOs who couldn’t convert a Word document into a PDF did just fine in a dog-eat-dog-eat-rat-eat-human society.
Devon half jumped out of her snowsuit in her shock. She’d been too trapped in her own thoughts to hear the crunching of boots. She eyed the small figure in a thin winter coat. The boy didn’t even have gloves or a toque on. His cheeks and nose were bright red and probably frostbitten. “It’s freezing out here. Where are your parents?”
An unexpected, whirlwind romance takes two young men on a road trip across Europe. One struggles to come out to his family while the other holds onto a burden from his past. A fateful car accident on a rainy Swiss road changes both their lives forever.
A short story about an experimental physicist who spontaneously creates an extradimensional portal while on a date.
A white figure moved in his periphery.
He froze. Blinked furiously.
It was just the white curtain, hanging limp and moth-eaten over the window. Blast it. You’re an educated man, Arthur Bainsworth. Stop jumping at imagined ghosts.
A short story about an undead village and a lost ranger.
Ever since I was eight, I’ve been able to create portals to another dimension. Cool, right?
No, actually. Get your head out of your ass.
There are a lot of tragic stories. Another where some obscure white girl doesn’t get her way is hardly worth anyone’s pity. And that’s not what I’m here to tell you about, anyways. I’m here to tell you about my mother’s handbag.
And how that handbag, with its rough stitching and cultural-appropriating rainbow-coloured elephant print kept me alive on the night I was attacked.
The night that stranger took everything from me: mind, soul, and body.
A short fictional story about a man and his discovery of a lost land, written and read by Alexis Veenendaal.
www.alexisveenendaal.com
Use of music owned by FesliyanStudios
#shortstory #fiction #atlantis
A short fictional story about a boy and his mother, written and read by Alexis Veenendaal.
www.alexisveenendaal.com
Use of music owned by FesliyanStudios
#shortstory #fiction #family #war #love