john dawar
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the best story writer
Stories (27)
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The Lantern Keeper
Mira had lived in the little hill town her entire life, but she had never really noticed the old lighthouse until the day she needed it most. It wasn’t near the sea—there was no ocean for hundreds of miles—but it stood tall on the highest ridge, its lantern glowing each night like a quiet promise. Most people called it odd. Some called it pointless. But everyone agreed it was beautiful. One late afternoon, after one of those long, heavy days that seem to soak into the bones, Mira wandered up the hill just to breathe in some fresh air. She didn’t expect anything unusual—just a moment alone, away from noise, tasks, expectations, and the feeling that she was somehow always falling short. The path twisted between pine trees until she reached the lighthouse door. To her surprise, it was slightly open, a soft golden glow leaking out, warm enough to melt the chill in the air. She hesitated, then knocked gently. “Come in,” a voice called—calm, old, and kind. Inside stood a man with silver hair and a sweater that looked hand-knitted. He was polishing the great glass lantern with slow, patient movements. I’m sorry,” Mira stammered. “The door was open.” “It often is,” the man said, smiling. “People who need light usually find their way here.” Mira exhaled, almost a laugh. “I didn’t come for anything in particular. Just… felt drawn, I guess.” “That’s usually how it works,” he said. The lantern above them flickered gently, casting honey-colored light across the room. It felt less like a building and more like being inside a giant heartbeat. “Why do you keep it lit?” Mira asked. “There’s no ocean. No ships.” The man chuckled. “Light doesn’t only guide ships. It guides people too. Sometimes in ways they don’t realize.” Mira sat on a wooden crate near the wall. “I don’t feel very guidable right now.” He glanced over. “Then you are exactly where you should be.” There was something comforting about the way he said it—not dramatic, not mystical, just sure. “Some days,” Mira said, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve, “it feels like I’m walking in fog. I keep moving, but I don’t know toward what.” The lantern keeper nodded. “Fog is not your enemy. It slows you down so you can notice what you’ve been rushing past.” “And what if I don’t know what that is?” Mira asked. “Then the fog keeps you still until you do.” The lantern hummed softly, its flame steady and unhurried, as if it knew exactly what it was doing. The man reached into a drawer and took out a tiny object wrapped in cloth, handing it to her. Inside was a miniature brass lantern no bigger than her palm. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “But I can’t keep this.” “You can,” he said, “but only if you promise one thing: don’t wait until you feel strong to light it. Light it when you feel lost. Light it when you feel unsure. Light it when you feel like giving up. That’s when small lights matter most.” “Does it have a switch or something?” she asked. He smiled. “It lights the moment you believe there is even a small reason to keep going. Even a tiny, tiny one.” “That sounds like magic,” she said. “All real things do.” When she finally stepped outside, the sky had shifted to twilight. The lighthouse glowed behind her as she walked down the hill, its steady beam brushing the tops of the trees like a blessing. Halfway home, Mira whispered to the tiny lantern, “I don’t know much right now. But I think I want tomorrow.” At her words, a warm spark flickered to life inside the little lantern, glowing softly against her palm. Mira smiled—really smiled—for the first time in a long while. Some lights were small. But small lights, she realized, were sometimes the ones that saved you.
By john dawar2 months ago in Lifehack
The Last Light of Asteria
In the distant city of Asteria, where the sun rose only once each year, people lived by the soft glow of shimmering crystal lamps. These crystals weren’t ordinary stones—they were alive, breathing with quiet pulses of light, their gentle warmth keeping the darkness from swallowing the world. The Great Crystal at the heart of Asteria fed every lamp in every home. Once a year, at the moment called Dawnfall, a chosen guardian traveled to the peak of Mount Solara to rekindle it.
By john dawar2 months ago in History
A Veterans Day Story (November 11, 2025)
The morning of Veterans Day, November 11, 2025, began the way most days started in the small town of Willow Creek—quiet, cool, and wrapped in a soft fog that clung to the ground like a memory refusing to rise. But for twelve-year-old Noah Turner, this day felt different.
By john dawar2 months ago in History
When You Ignore the Small Signs
Ethan prided himself on being meticulous. His apartment was clean, his schedule precise, and he liked to think of himself as someone who could handle anything life threw his way. Yet, over the past few weeks, little things had started to happen—small, almost imperceptible signs—but he dismissed them as trivial, nothing to worry about.
By john dawar2 months ago in Lifehack
A New Day, A New Door
For as long as he could remember, Haris had lived his life inside a loop—wake up, work, return home, sleep, repeat. The days blended into one another so completely that sometimes he wondered if time had stopped and left him behind. His dreams, once bright and restless, now lay buried under the weight of his routin
By john dawar2 months ago in Motivation
The More You Delay, the Deeper Your Regret Will Become
The More You Delay, the Deeper Your Regret Will BecomeRaina Kapoor had built her life around precision — schedules, deadlines, goals. As a senior marketing executive at a leading firm in Mumbai, she was known for her discipline and consistency. What she was not known for was pausing.
By john dawar2 months ago in Lifehack
The Day I Stopped Letting Anxiety Drive
I used to wake up every morning with my heart already racing. Before my feet hit the floor, my mind had already played out every possible disaster that could happen that day. What if I said something awkward? What if my boss noticed I wasn’t doing enough? What if my friends secretly didn’t like me? Anxiety was a constant background hum that never turned off.
By john dawar2 months ago in Confessions
The War for the Dawn: A Writer's Conquest
The alarm screamed at 4:45 AM, a sound that felt like an assault. In the warm, dark cocoon of his bed, the first battle of the day was already raging. One voice, thick with sleep, whispered of the comfort of the pillow, the pointlessness of this ritual, the sheer madness of leaving this warmth for the cold, dark silence of the morning. This was the voice of the old Leo, the one who found solace in mediocrity.
By john dawar2 months ago in Motivation
A Story of Broken Crayons and a Mended Heart
The dreams I’d woven—of reading him Goodnight Moon, of hearing him call me “Mama”—shattered against the cold, clinical diagnosis. My struggle wasn't against poverty or failure, but against a ghost. How do you fight a silence that has taken root inside your own child?
By john dawar2 months ago in Motivation
The Last Message in the Static
“Don’t take the River Road tomorrow,” it said. “Please.” She froze. The words were faint, distant, like someone calling from the other end of a tunnel. She turned the dial, half expecting a late-night DJ or a trick of the signal, but the voice came again.
By john dawar2 months ago in Lifehack
