In a city of black death, white memoryial cloud clopped to meet me on Broad street. The city ... [+]
Contemporary
1 min
As an international publishing house, in a time where reading for pleasure is at an all time low, our mission is to address this challenge. Through innovative mediums, that open access to literature, we allow our partners to create connections, offer knowledge and culture, bring joy to their communities and progress society. Because big ideas are often born in idle moments when reading a short story, poem, or comic strip.
Step into the ever-evolving world of literature with our winter edition, packed with fresh perspectives and boundless creativity. This issue brings you an electrifying mix of creative nonfiction, enchanting children’s tales, and gripping short fiction. Ever dreamed of stepping onto a Hollywood film set? Racing through twists and turns with a grandfather and his granddaughter? Or sharing the universe’s finest ice cream with aliens? Let these stories transport you—one unforgettable read at a time.
Discover the new worksWherever you are, whomever you are trying to reach with an emotional gift of a story, you may choose from a plethora of collections and genres from Short Édition: Humour, joy, nostalgia, shades of love, slice of life, magical realism, sci-fi...
Fiction and creative non-fiction written by writers worldwide, and published by Short Édition’s editorial team, in the form of short stories, poetry, and comics. Thousands of works written by thousands of paid writers across five continents.
Well-written content is delivered in creative ways to enjoy a good read, either on an eco-friendly scroll to collect & share, or via smartphone for a mindfulness break.
Created in 2015, the iconic Short Story Dispenser™ exists in many shapes and sizes to stun the general public, students, patients in a hospital, and commuters and travelers, with a quick read.
In a city of black death, white memoryial cloud clopped to meet me on Broad street. The city ... [+]
1
It was 1983 and I was six years old, riding between my father and brother in my father's Oldsmobile, back when front seats stretched from door to door. My father drove, and my brother, who was
... [+]
"Mrs. Crump?"
The man frowning at Madge through the screen door had stolen a letter from the mailbox earlier in the week, so he knew the surname.
"Yes," Madge replied.
"I'm Harold Bates from the
... [+]