Ok so, what is Pentober? Promptober? It's a writing tradition that's been around the web for a while where you write up a short story every day in October based on prompts. Some go for pen and paper, some digital; everyone has their own style. I'll be posting here, and I'll be using the prompts from https://www.topinfiction.com/p/pentober-2026 

Ok so, what is Pentober? Promptober? It's a writing tradition that's been around the web for a while where you write up a short story every day in October based on prompts. Some go for pen and paper, some digital; everyone has their own style. I'll be posting here, and I'll be using the prompts from https://www.topinfiction.com/p/pentober-2026 

Jack's phone buzzed. It was a text from one of his friends, Floyd. "Hey, man. Why have you been texting Carrie so much? Is something going on? I was looking through her phone to find a shipping receipt and noticed you were in her frequent contacts."

"We all know the quote, oft misquote or truncated, 'All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts,' and it's true. We know from recent findings in physics that this reality is a projection, a hologram, a stage. But that makes us ask some key questions: What's backstage? Who is in the audience? In the orchestra? Managing the lights and sound? Why are we all performing?..."

Ok so, what is Pentober? Promptober? It's a writing tradition that's been around the web for a while where you write up a short story every day in October based on prompts. Some go for pen and paper, some digital; everyone has their own style. I'll be posting here, and I'll be using the prompts from https://www.topinfiction.com/p/pentober-2026 

The High Royal Obsequious New Empire, T.H.R.O.N.E, had sat empty for a fortnight. Both the seat itself, a resplendent, gilded, gem-encrusted Eames chair at at the top of a high stepped pyramid in the center of Hiveworld One, and the office of the Throne, the ruler of Hiveworld One, had been vacated.

"So we have a deal, then?" "Yes, I think so." "Shake on it?" Louis Bohtling stuck out his hand and waited for mine. "Shake on it," I grasped his and gave a firm shake; his hands were paper dry and slightly rough to the touch. It was an unpleasant sensation. That was new. Last we had shook hands, he had been warm and smooth to the touch.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I whipped around to face the raspy voice's direction; two gold glints, eyes-width apart, drilled into me from a shadowy corner on Wacker Drive.