Collaborative stories and interactive fiction

Discover interactive stories written by the community. Read ongoing collaborative fiction, continue stories, and vote for the next chapter.

The Restoration Print

On her final night managing the neighborhood cinema, Bea had one job left: screen the buyer's restoration print and certify that every frame was intact. If she signed, the sale would close in the morning. The projector rattled through a comedy no one had seen in sixty years. Halfway through, the actors froze. Bea checked the machine. Film still slipped smoothly between the reels. Onscreen, a woman walked out of the motionless crowd and raised a card toward the camera. BEA, ASK WHY HE WANTS THE BASEMENT. Then the basement alarm began to ring.

by: Guts1 chapter

Date: September 11, 2026

The Mending Cycle

Machine Four had been out of order since Nora bought the laundromat, so the sudden thumping made her drop a fistful of quarters. A boy stood beside it, watching his torn baseball jersey tumble behind the glass. "I didn't start it," he said. The machine stopped. Nora opened the door and pulled out the jersey. Its ripped sleeve had been neatly patched with white lace. Across the aisle, a woman yanked open another washer and lifted out a wedding veil. A perfect square was missing from its edge. The boy reached for his jersey. The woman blocked the door.

by: Guts1 chapter

Date: September 08, 2026

The Honest Hem

Elena had altered wedding dresses for fifteen years. Silk did not move on its own. But when June promised her mother there would be no outdoor ceremony, the hem slid two inches toward the floor. Elena lifted a pin. The fabric relaxed. June's mother, watching from the mirror, asked whether the garden deposit was refundable. June said the garden had never been booked. Under the layered skirt, fresh stitches pulled tight around her ankles. Elena reached for her shears, but June caught her wrist. "Ask me about Daniel," the bride whispered.

by: Guts1 chapter

Date: September 08, 2026

Three Claims on a Red Coat

Nina had checked 214 coats during the winter concert and expected to return them just as quickly. The first red wool coat matched ticket 88. So did the second ticket held out by a woman behind the first. “That printer jams,” Nina said. “Tell me what’s in the pockets.” “My apartment keys,” said one. “A silver lighter,” said the other. Before Nina could check, a third woman pushed through the departing crowd and laid ticket 88 on the counter. She looked at the coat, then at both women. “Don’t put your hand in that pocket,” she said.

by: Guts1 chapter

Date: September 08, 2026

A Crack for a Crack

Cal had until six to mend twelve porcelain plates for the Bellweather Hotel's anniversary dinner. The first eleven took gold seams cleanly. When he warmed the final plate, a sharp tick came from the shelf behind him. His own coffee mug now carried the exact crescent crack he had just sealed. Cal chose a chipped saucer from the scrap bin and repaired it. Across the room, one of the finished hotel plates split neatly in two. The front bell rang. His sister entered, holding their mother's blue urn. "The funeral home dropped it," she said. "Can you fix it before the memorial?"

by: Guts1 chapter

Date: September 07, 2026

Clearance

By the third complaint, Dani stopped blaming careless drivers. Each car leaving Harbor Garage had a clean semicircle pressed into its roof, directly above the driver's seat. The clearance bar hung untouched, and the security feed showed nothing falling. She closed the exit lane and climbed to level four. A concrete beam bore fresh streaks of red, silver, and blue paint, though it stood ten feet above the floor. Her radio crackled. "Open the gate, Dani. Concert just ended." Below her, hundreds of horns began to sound. Then the beam dropped an inch.

by: Guts1 chapter

Date: September 07, 2026

Clear Oak Street

Ramon had twenty minutes to clear Oak Street before the mayor's parade, and only one vehicle remained: his sister's battered food truck. She had ignored three calls and painted over the tow notice with a smiling taco. Ramon hooked the front axle while the breakfast crowd booed. Then the serving window slid open. A little boy Ramon had never seen leaned out, flour on his cheeks. "Please don't move us," he said. "My mom is underneath." Ramon dropped the controls. Three sharp knocks came from below the truck, followed by his sister's voice from the locked cab.

by: Guts1 chapter

Date: September 07, 2026

Nineteen at Feeding Time

Mara counted the penguins before unlocking the service gate. Eighteen black heads turned toward the bucket in her hand, exactly as they had every morning for four years. Then something bumped beneath the empty feed cart. A nineteenth penguin waddled out, shook dust from its feathers, and joined the line. Mara shut the gate. No bird could have entered the sealed habitat overnight. She crouched to inspect its leg band and stopped breathing. The number belonged to Pip, the first penguin she had ever raised, buried behind the clinic last winter.

by: Guts1 chapter

Date: September 06, 2026

The Seventh Pie

At the county fair, Eli's job was to pin ribbons on pies after the judges left. He had just placed the blue ribbon beside Mrs. Voss's peach lattice when the head judge returned, pale and breathless. "Take it off. We counted six pies. There were seven." Eli checked the entry table. Six cards, six empty plates. Then he noticed a warm pie cooling beneath the volunteer desk, its crust stamped with the fair's old crest. No card lay beside it. Mrs. Voss saw it too. She set down her trophy. "That recipe burned with my mother's house," she said.

by: Guts1 chapter

Date: September 06, 2026

Before the Bell

Every Monday, Iris painted newborn names on the wall beneath the town bell. At noon, one chime per child made the names legal. Parents waited with blankets and cakes. This week, one red-faced girl lay in her father's arms. Iris painted Mabel Rowe, checked the registry, and gripped the rope. "Wait," the mother said. She opened her coat. A second infant slept against her chest. The registry listed two births but only one name. Above Iris, the clock began striking noon.

by: Guts1 chapter

Date: September 06, 2026

One Jar at a Time

On the morning Bell Street Pool was scheduled to close, Mara arrived to drain it. The inspector would return at noon to find the cracked basin empty. She had lowered the water six inches when someone knocked on the gate. Twelve children waited outside with jars. Behind them, parents crowded the sidewalk with bottles and cooking pots. "We brought back what we used," Luis said. The boy slipped past Mara and poured his jar into the shallow end. The others lifted their containers. At the corner, the inspector's car turned onto Bell Street.

by: Guts1 chapter

Date: September 06, 2026

The Checkpoint at Mile Twelve

Mina's job at the Ridge Run was simple: write down each bib number at mile twelve, hand the runner a cup of water, and point them downhill. At 9:14, number 31 arrived first, grinned, and vanished around the marked bend. Twenty minutes later, number 31 staggered toward her from the opposite direction. "You sent me in a circle," he gasped. Mina checked the trail map. There was no loop. Before she could answer, whistles sounded in both valleys. Runners began emerging from each trail, all insisting the course markers had led them straight ahead.

by: Guts1 chapter

Date: September 05, 2026