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Write a story inspired by the phrase, “A [wo]man’s worth is no greater than [their] ambitions.” — Marcus Aurelius

Posted in Short Story on Sep 26, 2025

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✍️ 29 stories

Faerie Market

Submitted to Contest #322

Evening came, and the women heard the faeries cry. Not from carts with scales and coin, but from the dark of the trees—as though the shadows themselves learned to sing—where voices threaded through the branches. “Mead sweet as blood,” they called. “Grapes that never sour. Milk that keeps youth in the bone forever. Bread that never hardens, never grows mold.” Éilis clutched her cloak. “Do not answer,” she whispered. But Labhraín slowed, her ear bent to the voices. They turned the bend, and the market lay bare. Fruit piled high; peaches glo...

21 likes 7 comments 7
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Dreamcatcher

Submitted to Contest #322

Kraig Kraig the Keys had just given a final chromatic flourish on “Toxic in the style of Debussy”. A toddler had arabesqued around the square, pulling at her family until they did the same, whilst three millennials stood by, gripping each others’ arms, as if he was transmogrifying into Britney Spears herself. Success. He saw Suzanna edge into his periphery - he’d known he was pushing it with the last couple, all right, several songs. ‘I think that’s four encore’s worth,’ she said with a smile. She was drinking mint tea from a mug with an ony...

20 likes 4 comments 4
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When Repulsion Feels Like Touch

Submitted to Contest #322

They measure us against labels. You know, boyfriend, husband, that kind of stuff. Exclusivity, it means you’re doing things right. Nonmonogamy, probably not. You’re either being sold short in your relationship or you’re the side chick. Why settle for less, right? Aspire to more, know your worth, etc. But maybe Nora didn’t measure herself, or them, against those standards. Maybe she just liked being with him. Maybe he was her best friend here. Maybe she was learning that love was not possession. She, she was the side chick; and he, in an open...

20 likes 5 comments 5
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The Proving

Submitted to Contest #322

All Valya Daardendrian ever wanted was to be worthy of her clan. As a young Dragonborn, her clan was all she had ever known –it was one of many in the mountainous region they had settled long ago. Daardendrians had always been renowned for their martial prowess, and every clan member was trained for combat. Not only could they boast of strength, but of magic as well. There were only a few clans that practiced the ways of the old Dragon Pantheon, and the founders had ensured that their ways would never be forgotten. This earned the clan respe...

18 likes 2 comments 2
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The Last Walk from Ravensdale Woods

Submitted to Contest #322

The leprechaun clawed his way through the hardened earth, each movement agony as radiation-poisoned soil crumbled around him. The mound in Ravensdale Woods, once his sacred dwelling, had collapsed inward, the ancient magic barely sustaining its structure. He emerged into a world transformed, gasping as unfamiliar air, filled lungs that had not breathed for fifteen years. What remained of the woods stretched before him like a blackened skeleton. Trees stood as charred sentinels, their branches reaching skyward in permanent supplication. The p...

17 likes 3 comments 3
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Happy Ruined Birthday

Submitted to Contest #322

“What are you listening to?”I silently hand one of my earbuds over to my sister and watch her raise her eyebrow in confusion as soon as she puts it in.“That... sounds like piano. I thought you hated that instrument.”I laugh and nod my head.“Yeah, I do. But he plays it like he hates it, too.”Jess looks even more confused at first, but before she can ask what I mean, the loud sounds in the earbud almost make her jump from her chair.“You don't say... How is his piano not broken already?”I can only shrug at that.“You probably don't want to look ...

17 likes 6 comments 6
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Martha and Louise's Daughter

Submitted to Contest #322

The wheels of my car turn like clumsy cartwheels in the weeds next to a perfectly manicured soccer field. I am the child who cannot sit still, and these wheels are my feet. The glass Coke bottle on my dashboard reflecting the sun is the feeling I have of wanting more, so much so that I risk being broken. My license plate is a cheap tattoo that tells you only where I have been, not where I am going. It’s dusk now. I’m sitting by the Lake of the Woods in the Northwest Angle, a desolated town toned down by the stillness of the lake that enclos...

17 likes 3 comments 3
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Really Bad Chess

Submitted to Contest #322

Viktor Petrov's trainers made no sound on the worn path through Regent's Park. At fifty-three, he moved like a man who'd learnt to occupy space without apology—shoulders back, chin level, the kind of posture that comes from winning things. His earbuds delivered the smooth baritone of a philosophy podcast, some American academic dissecting Epictetus whilst Viktor's phone buzzed with notifications he'd check later. Another thousand followers who'd watched yesterday's video of him checkmating a physics PhD in eleven moves whilst discussing the ...

15 likes 1 comment 1
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Know Your Worth

Submitted to Contest #322

The late afternoon sun filtered through the Presbyterian Hospital blinds, casting golden stripes across Lucious Stewart's massive, weathered hands. At eighty-seven, he still had the strongest grip Anna Belle had ever known, though now it trembled slightly as he held hers. The machines around him beeped softly, a digital lullaby that couldn't quite mask the weight of sadness infused in the moment. "Anna Belle, sugar," he said, his voice carrying the same warmth it had when she was seven and scraped her knee on the front porch, "there's someth...

13 likes 1 comment 1
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Men in Pointe Shoes

Submitted to Contest #322

Men in Pointe ShoesWritten by Lila Lutterschmidt “My name is Ruby Dixon, I'm auditioning for a solo in this year’s ballet.” “The name of your choreographer, miss?” “Ruby Dixon.” 1 Week Earlier My pointe shoes were tied too tight, my toes were contorted and my knees were bruised from the constant practice. I had a week before auditioning for my self-choreographed solo to be in this year's show. Ballet companies all over the world came to see it, right in the heart of Sydney, Australia. My issue was the big names of choreographers. I didn...

12 likes 4 comments 4
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Basketball is Life

Submitted to Contest #322

David Allen was sleeping like the dead. That’s an exaggeration, but only slightly. A tournament the weekend before, five practices during the week, three morning runs and a couple of weight sessions had been enough to send his sixteen year old body into a near coma. He almost fell asleep at the table for his Friday cheat meal of Pizza Hut and his head hit the pillow shortly after eight pm. In the heavy darkness of his room he slept in a swirling miasma of dreams. His muscles were recuperating but his mind was elsewhere, somewhere in between...

12 likes 0 comments 0
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Cups

Submitted to Contest #322

Ana silently thanked Ms. Jones for pairing her with Lisa. She needed a bridge into the social circle of this new school, and her hopes grew when Lisa invited her over to study. But with each echoing step under the vaulted ceilings, Ana felt that bridge breaking.Down an arched hallway and into a kitchen more immaculate than her Abuelo’s church, this was a mansion no matter what Lisa said. The sun poured in through the many windows, creating lattice shadows on the empty marble countertops. The kitchen’s stainless steel and brass-plating shone ...

11 likes 1 comment 1
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The Prize Worth Securing

Submitted to Contest #322

The morning she was due to surrender her humanity, Astrid made sure to eat a hearty breakfast. She was lucky it was even a possibility this far out in the forest. Rationing had left her with half a cured sausage, a chunk of cheese from the last farmer she'd bartered with, and hardtack she softened with a foraged tea. It wasn't enrapturingly delicious, but it was more than serviceable to be her last meal in her current skin.While eating, Astrid took care to check over her map. It had been filled out over the years to become more than the lous...

11 likes 0 comments 0
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What profits me my name?

Submitted to Contest #322

Imaginational Dabrowski, the little Bedlington Terrier, was lazing on the couch in the lounge of Malory Tennyson’s Cloudbank Cabin for Arthurian Studies. His front paws were crossed one over the other in a decorative fashion. He was still wearing the collar of flowers he had sported at the previous day’s wedding of Jovial Janny Joiner from the Tavern to her beau, Dashing Danny Dubglas. Eyes closed and a blissful expression on his face, he was happily recalling the events of the day and envisioning a glowing future for the young couple.The fi...

10 likes 10 comments 10
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The Shape of her Fire

Submitted to Contest #322

Marina often thought her town was a cage.Not the kind built of iron bars and locks, but of routines and quiet resignation. The streets were always the same—narrow, cracked with weeds pushing through. The people, too. They worked, they ate, they slept. No one ever asked what lay beyond the horizon, or if the horizon even mattered.But Marina did.At night, when the town quieted into its slow breathing, she hunched over her notebook, filling page after page with stories. Words spilled from her like an endless confession, worlds bigger than the o...

10 likes 2 comments 2
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