Mati Henry
Bio
Storyteller. Dream weaver. Truth seeker. I write to explore worlds both real and imagined—capturing emotion, sparking thought, and inspiring change. Follow me for stories that stay with you long after the last word.
Stories (108)
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We Were Stars Once
In the beginning, there was only light. Not the kind that shines through a window or flickers from a candle—but the ancient, burning brilliance that lives at the heart of every star. That’s what we were. Not human, not flesh and bone, but fragments of celestial fire, drifting across the endless tapestry of the cosmos.
By Mati Henry 7 months ago in Poets
The Whispering House on Lengley Lane
Lengley Lane wasn’t on most maps. A narrow, tree-choked road at the edge of Bramble Hollow, it twisted like a forgotten thought, surrounded by fog and tales better left untold. The locals spoke of it only in hushed tones—especially after dark—and no one ever walked that path alone.
By Mati Henry 7 months ago in Fiction
Glass Flowers
In a town made of stone and silence, where the air smelled faintly of ash and forgotten dreams, there lived a girl named Elira who could make flowers from glass. Not just any glass—she used shards collected from broken windows, shattered bottles, and fractured memories. She lived in an old greenhouse at the edge of the ruins, where no birds sang, and no real flowers grew anymore.
By Mati Henry 7 months ago in Longevity
The Town That Ate Sound
Every year, without fail, the town of Bellwater fell silent. Not metaphorically — literally. No birds chirped. No wind rustled. No cars roared. No voices echoed. From the stroke of midnight on the first Sunday in July until exactly seven days later, sound itself vanished.
By Mati Henry 7 months ago in Fiction
I Broke Up with My Therapist
I never expected to cry over a woman I paid $150 an hour. And yet, there I was—curled up in my car outside her office, mascara streaking like a modern art painting, replaying the words I’d said like a breakup anthem I didn’t mean to sing out loud.
By Mati Henry 7 months ago in Humans
Voice Memos from My Dead Sister
The first message came exactly seven days after Lily died. It was a Tuesday. I remember that because grief made everything mechanical—measuring time in cups of coffee, unanswered texts, and hours spent staring at the ceiling, asking the same unanswerable question: Why her?
By Mati Henry 7 months ago in Fiction
The Last Café on Earth
No one knew why the café still had power. The world had gone dark six months ago. Satellites blinked out like dying stars. Cities collapsed into shadows. The internet—once a sprawling digital heartbeat—flatlined. Planes fell. Governments vanished. People disappeared, or worse, turned on each other. What remained of humanity scattered like dry leaves in wind.
By Mati Henry 7 months ago in Fiction
Static in the Mirror
There was something wrong with the mirror. Talia first noticed it on a rainy Tuesday evening, the kind that makes the world feel like it’s melting in slow motion. She had just returned from work, her body aching, her mind humming with unfinished tasks and unresolved arguments. She tossed her keys onto the counter, kicked off her shoes, and headed for the bathroom.
By Mati Henry 7 months ago in Poets
Destruction in Gaza
Gaza, once a densely populated strip of land teeming with life, laughter, and resilience, now echoes with the sounds of falling bombs, cries for help, and the silence of lives lost too soon. The ongoing Israeli military offensive has turned entire neighborhoods into graveyards of shattered buildings and dreams. While global leaders trade statements and political debates rage on, the real cost is being paid by the innocent—women, children, and families who had no role in the politics of war but bear its cruelest consequences.
By Mati Henry 7 months ago in Criminal
