M

Joined August 2022

72 stories

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Stories (72)

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Finch and Thorne vs. "The Sculptor."
Rain lashed against the windows of the precinct, mirroring the storm brewing inside Detective Inspector Alistair Finch. Three bodies in as many weeks, each a young woman, each drained of blood, each found posed in a theatrical tableau. The press had already christened him “The Sculptor,” and Finch felt the weight of their morbid fascination pressing down on him.
By M11 months ago in Criminal
Roses that are White
Roses that are white, so pure and bright, Your petals whisper secrets of the night, In gardens where the softest breezes sway,
By M11 months ago in Poets
A Fair Petal
Whose petal is that? I think I know. Its owner is quite angry though. He was cross like a dark potato. I watch him pace. I cry hello.
By Mabout a year ago in Poets
The Light We Lost
In the sleepy coastal town of Eldermere, where the ocean met the sky in a ceaseless embrace, time flowed like the changing tides. The townsfolk thrived on the simple rhythm of life: sunrises greeted with the briny air, children playing along the shore, and elders recounting generations of folklore. But beneath this serene veneer ran a current of yearning, a secret that had haunted the town for decades—a lighthouse keeper’s daughter, Iris, whose fate was as entwined with the sea as the rugged cliffs on which she lived.
By Mabout a year ago in Fiction
Dwell
Soft whispers dance in the cool night air, In shadows where secrets linger and stare. Laughter fades into a tranquil embrace,
By Mabout a year ago in Poets
The Velvet Mirage
In the languid embrace of a sultry summer, when the sun dripped gold by the shores of Lake Crescent, there existed a mansion that glimmered like a jewel in the dusk. Its allure was an intoxicating blend of opulence and mystery—a haven of whispered secrets and echoed laughter, where souls danced on the cusp of despair and delight, much like the fickle waves lapping against the pebbled beach.
By Mabout a year ago in Fiction
The Whisper of Fields
I think I should start by saying that I’m not particularly fond of people. It’s a funny thing to admit, especially when you’re supposed to be social and all that jazz. I mean, I went to school like everyone else, but all I could think about during those endless lectures and droning voices was how fake it all felt. I could sense the whispers behind my back and the judgment in their eyes, the same judgment that kept making me feel as if I were standing on the edge of some great abyss. That’s how I ended up running away to the fields.
By Mabout a year ago in Fiction
Journey of Aviram: The Quest for Enlightenment
Journey of Aviram: The Quest for Enlightenment In a time long forgotten, in a land adorned with endless rivers and golden fields, there lived a youth named Aviram. He was the son of a prominent merchant in the village of Kavit, where the wind carried laughter and the sun painted the sky in vivid hues. Aviram was blessed with the comforts of life — fine linen dresses, aromatic spices, and the loving gaze of his parents. Yet, amid this abundance, an insatiable longing stirred within him, an unquenchable thirst for something he could not name.
By Mabout a year ago in Fiction
Ben
On the morning of his thirteenth birthday, when his parents woke him up, he asked them to stop. "I don't need to wake up yet," said the boy. "I have my alarm. It will tell me when I'm supposed to wake up. And I'm too old for you to wake me."
By M2 years ago in Fiction
Lily and Jay
Alive The sun was setting over the shimmering waters of the Long Island Sound, casting a golden hue over the extravagant mansions that lined the shore. Among these opulent estates stood a grand mansion, recently purchased by a young woman named Lily. She had inherited an immense fortune from her father, a successful businessman who had made his fortune in the steel industry.
By M2 years ago in Fiction
Amir's State
It was quite a beautiful day. You glimpse at it twice, and it is an essence of reflections of everything around you. In other words, a day is worth reviewing and remembering. With all the reflections around me, the sun could only do better by grasping itself upon my body from multiple different directions. The heat immersed me with calmness. Barely any sweat derives from my body.
By M2 years ago in Fiction
A Sword, A Pepper Shaker and Homework.
In the midst of chaos and clutter, Lies a sword, a pepper shaker, and homework. A trio of objects, each with its own story to tell.
By M2 years ago in Poets