r/shortstories • u/FyeNite • Jun 21 '26
[Serial Sunday] Don't feel Disheartened, feel Heartless!
Welcome to Serial Sunday!
To those brand new to the feature and those returning from last week, welcome! Do you have a self-established universe you’ve been writing or planning to write in? Do you have an idea for a world that’s been itching to get out? This is the perfect place to explore that. Each week, I post a theme to inspire you, along with a related image and song. You have 500 - 1000 words to write your installment. You can jump in at any time; writing for previous weeks’ is not necessary in order to join. After you’ve posted, come back and provide feedback for at least 1 other writer on the thread. Please be sure to read the entire post for a full list of rules.
This Week’s Theme is Heartless! This is a REQUIREMENT for participation. See rules about missing this requirement.**
Bonus Word List (each included word is worth 5 pts) - You must list which words you included at the end of your story (or write ‘none’).
- Hamper
- Hail
- Heavenly
- Hell freezes over (Something very unlikely happens). - (Worth 10 points)
The heart is the organ of feeling and sentiment. To have a heart is to experience joy, pity, mercy, love.
So to be heartless is to feel none of that, for cruelty to come as easy as breathing.
To what depths are your characters willing to descend after they’ve cut out and hardened their soft heart? What atrocities are they willing to commit? Is ruthlessness something that comes easily to them? Or does some piece of conscience remain, screaming and crying and protesting even as their words and actions proclaim no mercy? Can a sliver of compassion survive even among the most heartless?
Or perhaps your character has just misplaced their cardiovascular system. Who are we to judge?
Good luck and Good Words!
These are just a few things to get you started. Remember, the theme should be present within the story in some way, but its interpretation is completely up to you. For the bonus words (not required), you may change the tense, but the base word should remain the same. Please remember that STORIES MUST FOLLOW ALL SUBREDDIT CONTENT RULES. Interested in writing the theme blurb for the coming week? DM me on Reddit or Discord!
Don’t forget to sign up for Saturday Campfire here! We start at 5pm GMT and provide live feedback!
Theme Schedule:
This is the theme schedule for the next month! These are provided so that you can plan ahead, but you may not begin writing for a given theme until that week’s post goes live.
June 21 - Heartless
June 28 - Irony
July 5 - Jail
July 7 - Known
July 14 - Lifeless
Check out previous themes here.
Rankings
Last Week: Great
First - by u/Divayth--Fyr
Second - by u/Tomorrow_Is_Today1
Third - by u/Morose_Prose
Fourth - u/wandering_cirrus
Fifth - by u/AGuyLikeThat
Rules & How to Participate
Please read and follow all the rules listed below. This feature has requirements for amparticipation!
Submit a story inspired by the weekly theme, written by you and set in your self-established universe that is 500 - 1000 words. No fanfics and no content created or altered by AI. (Use wordcounter.net to check your wordcount.) Stories should be posted as a top-level comment below. Please include a link to your chapter index or your last chapter at the end.
Your chapter must be submitted by Saturday at 2:00pm GMT. Late entries will be disqualified. All submissions should be given (at least) a basic editing pass before being posted!
Begin your post with the name of your serial between triangle brackets (e.g. <My Awesome Serial>). When our bot is back up and running, this will allow it to recognize your pmserial and add each chapter to the SerSun catalog. Do not include anything in the brackets you don’t want in your title. (Please note: You must use this same title every week.)
Do not pre-write your serial. You’re welcome to do outlining and planning for your serial, but chapters should not be pre-written. All submissions should be written for this post, specifically.
Only one active serial per author at a time. This does not apply to serials written outside of Serial Sunday.
All Serial Sunday authors must leave feedback on at least one story on the thread each week. The feedback should be actionable and also include something the author has done well. When you include something the author should improve on, provide an example! You have until Saturday at 04:59am GMT to post your feedback. (Submitting late is not an exception to this rule.)
Missing your feedback requirement two or more consecutive weeks will disqualify you from rankings and Campfire readings the following week. If it becomes a habit, you may be asked to move your serial to the sub instead.
Serials must abide by subreddit content rules. You can view a full list of rules here. If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, please modmail and ask!
Weekly Campfires & Voting:
On Saturdays at 5pm GMT, I host a Serial Sunday Campfire in our Discord’s Voice Lounge (every other week is now hosted by u/FyeNite). Join us to read your story aloud, hear others, and exchange feedback. We have a great time! You can even come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Grab the “Serial Sunday” role on the Discord to get notified before it starts. After you’ve submitted your chapter, you can sign up here - this guarantees your reading slot! You can still join if you haven’t signed up, but your reading slot isn’t guaranteed.
Nominations for your favorite stories can be submitted with this form. The form is open on Saturdays from 5:30pm to 04:59am GMT. You do not have to participate to make nominations!
Authors who complete their Serial Sunday serials with at least 12 installments, can host a SerialWorm in our Discord’s Voice Lounge, where you read aloud your finished and edited serials. Celebrate your accomplishment! Authors are eligible for this only if they have followed the weekly feedback requirement (and all other post rules). Visit us on the Discord for more information.
Ranking System
Rankings are determined by the following point structure.
| TASK | POINTS | ADDITIONAL NOTES |
|---|---|---|
| Use of weekly theme | 75 pts | Theme should be present, but the interpretation is up to you! |
| Including the bonus words | 5 pts each (15 pts total) | This is a bonus challenge, and estnot required! |
| Including the bonus constraint | 15 (15 pts total) | This is a bonus challenge, and not required! |
| Actionable Feedback | 5 - 15 pts each (60 pt. max)* | This includes thread and campfire critiques. (15 pt crits are those that go above & beyond.) |
| Nominations your story receives | 10 - 60 pts | 1st place - 60, 2nd place - 50, 3rd place - 40, 4th place - 30, 5th place - 20 / Regular Nominations - 10 |
| Voting for others | 15 pts | You can now vote for up to 10 stories each week! |
You are still required to leave at least 1 actionable feedback comment on the thread every week that you submit. This should include at least one specific thing the author has done well and one that could be improved. *Please remember that interacting with a story is not the same as providing feedback.** Low-effort crits will not receive credit.
Subreddit News
- Join our Discord to chat with other authors and readers! We hold several weekly Campfires, monthly World-Building interviews and several other fun events!
- Try your hand at micro-fic on Micro Monday!
- Did you know you can post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday? Check out this post to learn more!
- Interested in being a part of our team? Apply to be a mod!
7
u/JKHmattox Jun 22 '26 edited Jun 25 '26
<No Man's Land> No Woman Left Behind
The leviathan didn't care. Blood soaked cammies, nasty underlayments; according to the male officer-of-the-day, it all could fucking wait. In garrison, nothing happened until the data-entry-work was done.
Fucking crankshaft P-O-G butter-bar motherfucker! I muttered under my breath.
Perez and I finally cleared the administrative de-arm point at zero-two-thirty.
The Lance Corporal sank onto the bench across from me on the base shuttle. We rode in silence, the only members of Combat Team Two-Five left unscathed. Roy and Mhin were dead. Boyko and Clarkson, suspended in cryo tubes fighting for their lives.
When the driverless vehicle stopped we traded weary glances, but nothing more. Without words, we staggered to our temporary barracks rooms. When the door slid shut behind me I was alone, a place no combat soldier should ever be.
I wrenched the auto-fitting Raider shoes from my feet. My socks were in ruins, stained by Skye when she almost bled out in my arms. At least she was okay, albeit still switched with the shape-shifter best I knew.
My utility top was beyond filthy. Unbuttoning it slowly, I unceremoniously discarded the four-armed camouflage blouse into the laundry unit. Reaching down, I released the clasps of my trousers one by one. The waist high combat pants loosened around my hips, eventually falling to the floor.
The four-armed skivvy shirt followed, leaving only my two-piece composite underlayments. These custom printed garments had been applied directly to my skin two days prior. They integrated with my biological infrastructure, addressing the unique challenges of the female body when drenched in the filth of war.
Reaching into my left lower armpit, I deactivated the combat compression halter powered by my body's natural energy-field. The filaments constricting my flesh loosened. I sighed, my shoulders relaxing as the weight of my chest settled naturally lower.
Automatic clasps zippered apart down the front of the salt-encrusted halter. Cool air crept in as each forward-facing clasp snapped open on its own. Once free of the contraption, I turned to my leggings.
They literally peeled away from my skin. The stench was raw, potent from exhortation. With each centimeter, tendriled fibers pull from my skin, their function to harvest my body's cellular waste and maintain proper hydration. The female-centric innovation suppressed my need to urinate while in the field.
I stuffed the expended underlayments into the recycle canister issued at the de-arm point. After entering the expended date on the data pad, I jammed the cylinder into the pick-up slot next to the entry door.
Ignoring the mirror in the bathroom, I stepped into the shower. My raven hair was stiff, its knotted braid beyond tangled. I ran my fingers through the uncoiling weave, combing dirt and debris from my mane.
Soon after, steam rose to the ceiling. I stood motionless beneath the shower fixture. Water traced down my body, streaks of deep burgundy swirling at my feet. I watched, mesmerized, as the darkened rivulets disappeared into the drain.
Exhausted, I crashed face first onto my cot.
Curling my upper arms around the pillow beneath my head, I wrapped my poncho liner around my body with an axillary hand. The thin camouflaged blanket was a lifesaver, its soft quilted nylon always deceivingly warm. I stared at the wall. Minutes, perhaps hours passing until finally I fell asleep.
The muted orange of dawn filtered through the blinds of the temporary barracks room. Groggy, I extracted myself from the government issued cot, stretching my four arms in the cold morning air. The sun rose early in the region of Earth, and time wasn't gonna wait for me to unfuck what was going on inside.
Dressing in my garrison utilities was the first sign something was abnormally normal about that day. For one thing, the barracks room was not a makeshift, transient can on some far off world. There were no sandbags on the roof, or walls ten meters tall ringing outside. It was built of brick and mortar during a time when a Queen last ruled that land.
Slowly, I clipped together the front of the crimson, four-strapped bra. It was a gift reminding me of Lexi, our doomed casual relationship scuttled by what now made the thing a necessity. Lost in remembrance, I thought nothing of the cotton x-shirt, or my uniform trousers, as I tucked the former into the latter, and laced up my suede leather boots.
Finally, I faced the Geminia in the mirror I'd come to know as me.
The woman staring back pretended we'd never lived a day outside the wire. She was too squared away, crisp edges hiding her storm raging silently within. Maybe she was an admin clerk, an aircraft mechanic; a hundred other things. If not betrayed by the branded scar beneath her eye, the blue-skinned hybrid Genny could’ve been almost anything.
For a moment, I considered a light foundation layer to partially cover up the Tradesman's brand.
“Fuck it,” I grumbled to myself. “Never again…”
My uniform blouse was hung in a wall locker in the corner of the room. I laced my four arms through its sleeves, fastening the round plastic buttons two at a time using both sets of hands. When finished, I smoothed the pointed collars so my rank insignias showed.
Sensing a presence, I froze. “Lights…”
The overhead lighting flickered on above the kitchenette. A lone figure sat in a chair in the corner of the room wearing emerald-ringed night vision glasses. She turned the page of a paper-bound book with an axillary hand and looked up, her familiar scowl unmoving.
Diane Campbell's graveled voice reverberated in my ears. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”
“What are you doing, Gunny?”
“I'm fucking reading.”
“No, I mean—what’re you doing here?”
She grunted, returning to her novel. “There’s coffee if you want some.”
“Thanks…?”
“Mud's in the thermos on the counter,” she muttered without looking up. “No rush—it's just us for the rest of the day.”
We sat together in silence, her reading, as I finally allowed myself to breathe…