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Write about a second chance or a fresh start.

Posted in Short Story on Aug 8, 2025

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✍️ 63 stories

The Lives I Won't Live

Submitted to Contest #315

Somewhere between who I was and who I’m supposed to become. Some days it feels like I’m standing in this endless hallway.It’s not haunted, not eerie, just long. Long and still and echoey, like the kind of place you don’t know whether to run through or whisper in. The walls are lined with doors, stretching out so far in either direction that the hallway fades into a blur, like a dream I can’t fully remember.There must be a thousand of them. Maybe more.Each one is different. Some are painted in colors I’ve loved since childhood, soft sea-glass...

27 likes 7 comments 7
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The Demon Overlord's Retirement Plan

Shortlisted for Contest #315 ⭐️

The Demon Overlord’s Retirement Plan Otherwise known as: My 444th Performance Review. My journey towards retirement and my goat began with the final completion of my purpose: killing the Hero of Ages.It was, I'll admit, a rather involved process. After four hundred and forty-four performance reviews—also known as "deaths"—I had finally perfected the optimal workflow. The Hero's party had excellent teamwork, but unfortunately for them, they hadn't updated their playbook for several dozen incarnations. No need to fix a winning strategy, I supp...

19 likes 6 comments 6
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Forty-Three Minutes

Submitted to Contest #315

***This story is inspired by true events.*** Author’s Note: I live every day with a traumatic brain injury. My hands don’t work very well, in fact I’m much more left hand dominant after doing most of everything for the first 40-ish years of my life with my right hand. My speech is slow and quiet, so I choose not to speak unless I absolutely have to. If we go out, I’m in a wheelchair because I don’t walk very well. However, my brain works just fine, which makes the other issues all the more frustrating. So, without further ado, here’s my seco...

17 likes 12 comments 12
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Just Another Day

Submitted to Contest #315

Just Another DayIn many ways, the day was a day much like any other that summer. It was August, and days were growing noticeably shorter, a sure sign that school would be starting again soon. But for the moment, I relished the freedom.It had been a good summer: swimming in the lake almost every day, hiking and exploring in the woods with friends, and generally leading a life free of many cares. I had earned some money by digging up worms and selling them to the bait shop. Even after paying for all the candy I had bought, I still had some coi...

16 likes 2 comments 2
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Happy Birthday, Mattie Rockwell

Submitted to Contest #315

Ah, Mondays… The most disliked day of the week. Some rebuke it outright. Others deny its existence entirely, carrying on with their poorly planned weekends that cause them to miss their alarms and shout obscenities at the morning light. But not Mattie Rockwell. The Sunday Scaries hadn’t spooked him, and he did not shout any colorful curse words this morning, because today wasn’t any ol’ Monday. It was THE Monday. Not only was it Mattie’s birthday, but it was the Monday that would make him a rich man—better yet, a free man. Today was the day ...

12 likes 8 comments 8
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Callback

Submitted to Contest #315

Lewis chucked his rucksack down in the hallway, in the way of his own feet, and flicked on the light. There it was - the washing from breakfast. And the night before. Still sitting there, politely reminding him it needed doing. Nice birthday present from past Lewis. Maybe just leave it ‘til the morning. Future Lewis might appreciate the chance to feel useful. Lucky Lotus was calling his name, anyway. They were so oldschool they numbered their dishes on the app. No need to browse: he went straight for eleven, forty-two and fifty-five. And bec...

12 likes 2 comments 2
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The Hinge That Remembers

Submitted to Contest #315

When Mara pushed open her grandmother’s front door, it didn’t swing—it sighed. The wood was swollen from years of salt air, stubborn as memory. She leaned her shoulder against it until it gave, then stepped inside, leaving her suitcase by the stairs like an afterthought.The air was the same as she remembered: tide, lemon oil, and the faint whisper of rosemary. Summer afternoons and childhood laughter clung to it, even though the house had been empty for over a year. Or not empty—just without a person.The bay window framed the gray horizon. I...

12 likes 2 comments 2
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Hi, My Name is Ray

Submitted to Contest #315

The fog slowly lifts from Ray’s brain and, in doing so, Ray discovers he is standing in the middle of the Joseph Muller Bridge. The Connecticut River sluggishly flows beneath, lights reflecting on its surface. Ray thinks the water looks like the night sky, dark and unfathomable. He slowly blinks. The sound of traffic grabs his attention, and he turns to look. There’s a fair amount of traffic, and he’s not in a walkway.Suddenly, Ray is gripped by an attack of nausea. He swirls around and begins vomiting over the railing. Over and over....

11 likes 8 comments 8
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Seven Years

Submitted to Contest #315

Warning: This story contains references to physical violence, death, and offensive language. Gina, 34, a daughterSome breakups turn women into girls’ girls. Pink gets pinker. Girly pop becomes chicken soup for the scorned. And Gina, like a Christian who only prays in desperate grief, she takes out her fine-china femininity only for special occasions of man-purging.This is the vein of Gina’s thoughts on her morning run. The sleek blacktop beneath her sneakers blurs, its monotony serving her dissociative mind well.She hadn’t wanted to move ba...

11 likes 5 comments 5
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Story of an Arrival

Submitted to Contest #315

Your faces tell of forgotten things. You stare out, your large, hungry eyes hollow from your crossing, from bad food, illness, and your ill-shapen clothing threadbare and stained from overwearing. One of you, dark hair peeking out from under the edges of a head scarf, you hold a tiny, sleeping infant as tenderly as if she were a sack of seedling potatoes. The babe is so new, so ethereal and small she looks premature, her early delivery brought on by your terrible seasickness, one that made it impossible for you to hold anything down, especi...

10 likes 2 comments 2
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Copy and Paste

Submitted to Contest #315

I take a deep breath, smoothing the lapels of my tux and running a hand over my hair. The sensations still feel off, like I’m experiencing each a microsecond after it happens.Part of it is due to the Transfer, neural lag as my restored consciousness acclimates to fresh nerves. And part of it is purely psychological.After all, I’m still getting used to being alive again.Nerves settled, I push open the double doors and stride into the cavernous room beyond. A swell of noise greets me, cheers and applause from the crowd waiting there, rattling ...

10 likes 0 comments 0
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Mojo-Eating Trouble & A Second Chance

Submitted to Contest #315

The screen door creaked open without a knock.Boo looked up from the chipped kitchen table, where a cold cup of coffee sat beside a stack of unpaid bills. Afternoon sunlight bled through the blinds in dusty stripes, cutting across her arms and the paper like pale prison bars.And there he was.“You mojo-eatin’, black ball-suckin’, Vernor’s-drinkin’ piece of leftover trash from the Fourth of July picnic—after the watermelon rind broke in two and wasn’t worth a damn thing.” Her voice came out sharp but steady, the kind she’d learned to use when s...

10 likes 8 comments 8
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Happy Iteration Day!

Submitted to Contest #315

It was two days after the Midsummer Tournament. King Arthur was in a cheerful mood. “Happy Iteration Day, Lance!” “Iteration Day?” “Yes. I have just legislated the inaugural Iteration Day. It will be a day to mark the transition from one iteration of Fog Lake reenactments to the next. It will be a day to remember the events of the previous and make resolutions about the iteration to come. We will celebrate the day with a picnic in the woods. Lady Charlotte-Elaine of Charlotte’s Web Weaving has made up lovely moss green woollen tunics and ...

9 likes 4 comments 4
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The Velvet Box

Submitted to Contest #315

The iron torches flickered as a handsome couple strolled down the castle’s stone hallways. Tom and Josie’s fingers intertwined under the meandering orange glow. Josie grasped a small leather briefcase. Cascading black hair concealed her face, but he caught a glimpse of the elusive shy smile. Tom recalled the first time they met and the heart-rending smirk. His left hand grazed the ancient stone archway, and it glowed fluorescent green. A swirling magical whirlpool appeared between the arch. He turned to her.“I am going to miss you,” Tom said...

8 likes 1 comment 1
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Get Born Again

Submitted to Contest #315

WORD COUNT: 2,715 NOTE: I chose "Get Born Again" as the title because it seemed fitting, and it was also the name of an AiC song. Alternative titles I brainstormed were "T-Minus Eighteen Years" (which seemed a little too sci-fi) and "Man in the Box" (also an AiC song, but since the story revolves around escape and a fresh start, I settled with "Get Born Again"). This is my second short story ever, so while I wouldn't mind winning the contest, I'm only submitting for the chance of receiving feedback and improving my writing. TW: mental health...

8 likes 3 comments 3
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