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Write about someone who self-publishes a story that was never meant to be read.

Posted in Short Story on Jul 4, 2025

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✍️ 49 stories

The Clause

Submitted to Contest #310

Viewer Discretion Advised. The Clause “I don’t know what haunts me more—the silence of the children, or the fact that we all heard it and sang along.”— Kara Ellison, journalist, weeks before her disappearance. Note: This quote was recovered from an unpublished exposé titled “The Claus Protocol,” now sealed by federal order. Act I - Shine Nina didn’t cry when her parents signed her away.Nobody really did anymore.At the depot, they handed her the envelope with her name in gold foil. A smiley elf stamped her boarding pass and thanked her mo...

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The Fifth Draft

Submitted to Contest #310

I published it as a joke.A fake horror story, stitched together from an old printout I found tucked inside a tattered paperback at the Salvos shop. The paperback was The Andromeda Strain, brittle with age, cover curled like it had survived a flood. The printout was folded inside, four and a half pages long, typed in Courier, no title. No author.I didn’t think much of it at first. Just skimmed the first paragraph in the store and thought, This is weird. It opened mid-sentence — “...under the stairwell again. The smell was stronger now, like h...

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The Book That Wasn't

Submitted to Contest #310

Mark never meant for anyone to read it.He called it The Echo and the Sock: A Nonlinear Treatise on Perception and Choice. A joke title, for a joke book, written in a haze of caffeine, bourbon, and sleep-deprivation. It was a fever dream of metaphors and contradictions - a stream-of-consciousness wreckage filled with sentences like:"All clocks are liars, except the one in your belly button.""To become truly free, one must first befriend a duck and rename it Harold.""Hope is a sandwich left on a windowsill during a thunderstorm."He self-publis...

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My love that can never return

Submitted to Contest #310

The hardest challenge I’ve ever faced was losing my grandmother. We were incredibly close. Her death was not just a loss — it felt like the ground disappeared beneath my feet. I was eighteen, fresh out of high school, full of hope and plans, and suddenly everything seemed meaningless. That moment split my life into “before” and “after.”We lived together — my parents, grandmother,two brothers,sister and me .My grandmother was beautiful and always well-groomed.She often gave me gifts and always protected me when my mom scolded me for something...

10 likes 3 comments 3
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What's Left of Me After You

Submitted to Contest #310

Numb. That’s how I’ve been feeling lately, and there isn’t a more perfect word for it. Mug in hand and armed with my next 500-page escape into some new fantasy realm, I settle into my favorite chair, desperate to start reading before my thoughts take over. My fingers lightly flip open the cover. Bzzz. I jump. A notification? My phone is usually so quiet these days. —Hey, I know it’s been a while. A message from him. My ex. My “lover.” I flip the phone over and turn the ringer off. “I’m much happier without him,” I tell the bookshelves on my ...

10 likes 1 comment 1
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Unwritten Consequences

Submitted to Contest #310

The glowing cursor blinked at her, a silent witness to the irreversible act she was about to commit. Nadia Simmons told herself it was an exorcism. That’s what she told herself the night she pressed Publish. A purging.She was sitting on the floor of her bedroom—if you could call it that. A mattress on the floor, a thrift-store dresser, a single lamp with a bulb so dim it made everything look like an old photograph.The laptop glowed in her lap, the cursor blinking next to the final sentence: I let him go, but I never really let go of myself.S...

10 likes 1 comment 1
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The Santiago De Camino and the Costa Del Morte

Submitted to Contest #310

A person who is authentic does not need silicone or the most expensive clothes, or the lip injections or the four by four KGM the size of a small coach. What set her apart was her big feet and thin ballet like posture. Just like Audrey, she loved clothes, but desired Audrey's aristocratic air and delicate voice. Jana herself always kept a cigarette holder in her handbag, even though (unlike Audrey) she didn't smoke. She chose dresses that she liked, usually vintage, and didn't need to 'fit in' with current fashion trends. Somehow, she made i...

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ANOTHER LETTER

Submitted to Contest #310

ANOTHER LETTER Hello…Logan is out of town today. It is just me, Jason, and the animals.We could use this time to connect, but we chose to do nothing.Not having money helps too.How do we connect?It’s been almost thirty years, and we still have yet to find even ground. I don’t think. There has been a lot of jumbles in the marriage. Why are we still here? To tell you the truth it’s been stale for a long time. A lot of disagreeing. A lot, of arguments. A lot of things that have been said that neither of us can take back. And a lot of sleeping a...

9 likes 0 comments 0
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Mister Flesh and the Vending Machine Prophecy

Submitted to Contest #310

I self-published a book on a Tuesday.Not a meaningful Tuesday. Not a landmark-in-my-journey, personal-growth, coffee-shop-realization Tuesday. Just a microwave dinner, laundry half done, forgot my password again Tuesday. The kind of day that evaporates before you even notice it happened.My name’s Alex Dunning. I was bored and mildly caffeinated. In a fit of ego-flavored malaise, I dragged a document titled finaldraft_reallyfinal_trustme.docx out of my Downloads folder, uploaded it to Kindle Direct Publishing, and hit Publish with the kind of...

8 likes 2 comments 2
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The Quiet House

Submitted to Contest #310

Content Warning: This story contains themes of intrusive thoughts, obsessive-compulsive behaviour and psychological distress. It also includes references to guilt, self-doubt and graphic imagery. Reader discretion is advised. The Quiet House The house is still. Not quiet, but still, like breath held for too long. Like something waiting to be found. It creaks, but only when I stop listening to it. A soft groan in the ceiling beams, and a subtle tick in the pipes that still need to be fixed. I always make sure to check the locks before I go t...

8 likes 0 comments 0
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An Unfamiliar Story

Submitted to Contest #310

Another dull day at the store ended, and Gail’s sighs screamed louder than the rusty shutter groaning its way down to the floor. He looked up at the store’s sign after locking up and thought about the company’s success, then compared it to his own.It was Gail’s turn to have his son stay with him for a week, so he waited by the store. Right on time, he saw his son awkwardly waving while trying to let go of his mother’s hand.“Do you have any plans for this weekend, Lizzie?”Gail summoned all his courage to ask Lizzie the question he had rehears...

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Working Girls

Submitted to Contest #310

Chaos had never been so organized. The legacy patient charts were not filed alphabetically, but rather in numerical order. They conflicted with electronic files that had acquired their numerical IDs when the new system had been implemented years ago. Two histories could unintentionally be merged into one patient unless someone double-checked. The long-standing and much-procrastinated task had not yet been resolved. The legacy files couldn’t yet be deleted, but they did need to be allocated a new home in the Electronic Medical Record. As if d...

8 likes 2 comments 2
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an alter plays hangman

Submitted to Contest #310

(Warning: This story is about mental disorders, implied suicide attempts, and self-destruction.) “You were not meant to do that,” a voice in his head tells him. “It’s fine,” he says. “It’s a good story, something that’ll get me going.”“It’s not yours,” another voice snaps.“Yeah, but I read it, and it’s in a handwriting that looks like mine, so…”“Jesus Christ.” The second voice continues. He’s never lonely without them. The draft feels heavy, like it refuses to open no matter how many times Renato tried to reread it. He doesn’t really know wh...

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not everything is meant to be shared

Submitted to Contest #310

When I wrote it I didn't ever intend to share it. My therapist had suggested that I use my love of writing to put into words everything that had led to this point, all that we had worked through in our sessions. But it was not intended for anyone else's consumption.We all have skeletons in our closet, things that are better left unexplored or said except in the privacy of our own minds or in the safety of a psychotherapists office. I had been attending therapy sessions for about a year with a wonderful therapist, Imelda. She was a great fit ...

8 likes 1 comment 1
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NO ONE DESERVES THIS

Submitted to Contest #310

To my saviorI am so sorry. I thought I was stronger. I thought I could endure it. But I am not a strong man. Many before me have tried yet none have succeeded. If you are reading this then you must’ve already found yourself in the Endless library. I don’t know the proper name of the place but it's what I’ve called it for the last twenty years. This place demands an occupant, it demands a prisoner, a keeper, a librarian. You’ve undoubtedly panicked already and dropped this book and tried to run away. But the halls are endless and the shelves ...

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