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A weekly short story contest
Looking for a steady supply of lgbtq+ short stories? Every week thousands of writers submit stories to our writing contest.
Coming of Age
People of Color
Teens & Young Adult
We'll send you 5 prompts each week. Respond with your short story and you could win $250!
I hate the view from up here.
I live in an eight-story apartment that seems to be rotting from the inside out. Thin white walls stand left unpainted. They’re so thin that I always hear the neighboring rooms’ businesses, namely loud music and rough sex. The smell of leftover take-outs from the Chinese fast food across the street fills in this haunted space. I d...
Barcelona, October 2017
Life sucked, period. Ian tapped his fingers on the table, his breakfast untouched and cold, while he gazed at the crowded streets from the window of the hotel that he’d been staying at for the last two days after his husband died two nights ago. All memory of Carlos, his handsome and goofy husband with a smile etched on his lips, began fading away with each passing minute....
The ding-ding-ding of the car’s door chime turned to a bassline in my head. Rhythmic, mathematically built for maximum danceability. Enough to make my ears pulse with each new addition to the dozens of dings before. Like a concert from the parking lot, reverb echoing in straining ears and hearts begging to thump to the cadence if they could simply get close enough to catch the beat.
A myriad of messages popped up on my screen. The abandoned WhatsApp group 'BMS engineering batch 2000' rose to life. As I started scrolling down the messages a jerk of excitement, fear and anxiety travelled down my spine. Everyone had agreed for a meet up at 'Hotel Trinity Isle'. I put up a thumbs up accompanied by a smiley. My mind dint quite process the smiley vibe nor the thumbs up. I lay on my bed and a flash of memo...
I hated my highschool years. Now you will probably say
Well yea a lot of people hated their high school etc...
Well mine, I was the school laughing stock. I was always somewhat different, weird, and outcast. So to sum it up I was a LOSER.
When I was three I had multiple ear infections and ear surgeries so my body was always sensitive to loud noises. I wore large headphones ...
There were pillars lining towards the entrance of the conference hall, each pillar painted an immaculate white with yellow lights shining on top of them, each was at least 6 feet tall and sturdy looking, and everyone seemed to be in awe of them as they all took out their respective phones to start snapping one for the gram. Upon the entrance stood two more pillars at each end, towering taller than the ones leading toward...
I cross the street to Rafael’s house, holding the file in my hands and carrying the bag on my shoulder. I try to ignore the empty silence of the morning, the stench of wilting plants, and the lack of vehicles on the street.
I fail as usual.
I open the door, greeted by the aroma of pancakes filling the air. I go to the dining room and find the rest of them sitting at the table, eating break...
Trapped in the darkness of the cockpit, I look around the blank screens on my console and feel a sense of dread begin to well up in my chest. It has been some time since the overhead lighting had cut off throughout the ship. The only remaining source of illumination is the piercing red streaks of the emergency lights that sporadically dot the metal grating of the floor. To be honest, it only seems to give everything a he...
Author’s note- All songs here were written by yours truly! Hope you enjoy! My personal favorite song that I have ever written is Spin Like The Lilies which is what inspired this story’s two parts.
I, Merielle Olympe, am a troublemaker.
I have gotten in detention three hundred and seventeen times in my whole school career, have been evicted out of classrooms at least five times a year, and have bro...
It was a stupid idea. It was stupid, it was illegal, and it went against all of her principles.
“In fact,” she said as they stood outside the door, “I’ve changed my mind. You go. I’ll stay home and play video games.”
“Really?” Nick said. “You’re ditching me here?”
“Well, yeah. Th...
Hell. The easiest way to summarize Jordan’s first year of college as a music major, and an unfortunate member of the Invincible Bros. An exclusive songwriting club that half of the student body and faculty didn’t even know existed. Jordan hated the spotlight and cursed his uncle for submitting a piece he had written for his mother to the School Board. Sure, it got him a full ride through college, but he didn’t exactly know if making music was his passion, nor if the headache he got from the Invincible Bros was worth it.
You know how fairy tales work? The princess usually meets the prince at a ball. They fall in love. But then something happens and then the prince has to rescue the princess. He rescues her and then they ride off into the sunset on a horse that has no other role. That’s how they work. There’s never been any change to it.I, for one, always hated that story. There were just so many problems with it. Here, have my full list of issues, that grows by the day-1. You can meet *insert love interest* at ANY OTHER PLACE apart from a ba...
“Can you keep a secret?” General Laser’s voice crackled over the comm. Comrade Blast replied with his ever bright voice, “Sir, yes Sir!” With that he heard a loud ringing through the comm. It didn’t sound good at all. “General, do you copy?” he asked. There was no response. Only a faint ringing in his earpiece. Then silence, as that ringing also drowned out. “General Laser, do you copy? Come in General, this is Comrade Blast.” Still, nothing. It had to be the worst. Command had been taken down. But how could it be. Blast could not process...
“Hey, Mikey,” Gaby said, walking up to the counter of the dance store to talk to the red-haired employee.
“Gabs! How’d the last show go?” the teenager asked.
“Well, considering I’m finally done, amazing. But you know how I came in with a hole in the bottom of my jazz shoe the other day? There’s a hole in the other one now, too.”
“Good job, then,” Mikey muttered. “Size 8 and a half, right? Tan, I ...
“Can you keep a secret?” The words leave Lexia’s lips, hanging in the air between her and Nevie. Without an immediate answer, Lexia stands up from her bed. She begins pacing her room, walking from one pink wall to another, even pinker, wall. Lexia focuses on the objects in her bedroom in an attempt to calm her. She passes her dollhouse, one people have told her a seventeen-year-old shouldn’t own, and her nerves...
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