Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Chapters.

Sparrow on a Plank Chapter 18: Of Wild Parties and Annoyed Predators
The trip home was blessedly uneventful. There were sharks, whales, and the occasional seagull, but nothing attacked them or even appeared to follow them. Hajime and the other mages did a thorough search of the ship, looking for anything that didn’t belong. They couldn’t find anything, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t anything there; it just meant that it was hidden rather well. Although they were sure that there was something hidden, they lacked the immediate means to deal with it.
By Jamais Jochim14 minutes ago in Chapters
Sparrow on a Plank Chapter 19: Of Sparrows, Pirates, and...Vikings?
Back on Cyrill, Prince Ta was smiling to himself. He had long ago realized that Lord Ashigaru would be his opponent on this, and so had started a dossier on him. It was easy for him to keep a step ahead of the reptilian lord; Prince Ta didn't limit his thinking to what he thought his role was, and therefore was open to ideas that he would otherwise reject. He also treated his operatives with respect, and allowed that failure was an option. After all, if you send someone on a difficult assignment then it was likely that at sometime that someone would need to fail; it was just a matter of odds, and the odds didn't play favorites. He smiled, just a little thing on his lips, as he wondered how Lord Ashigaru would feel if Bubastos' high lord ever realized that his waffles were his weakness; without his daily waffles, his entire day was shot. They were part of his daily ritual, and something that needed to be changed.
By Jamais Jochim40 minutes ago in Chapters
The Cave Part 8
The light from the staff guided my steps back out of the cave, the blue flickering flame a cool but cheering light. I realized something that had seemed apparent to me in the darkness before, but now showed up quite clearly. Passing now the third time through this tunnel, I could see clear stairs. They were well worn, even rounded at the edges in the center, speaking to a long history. Others had come this way. Many others, or just the same few back and forth for many years.
By Jamye Sharpabout 2 hours ago in Chapters
The Dead Soul of Ayn Rand (Chapter One)
Ivan trudged through the sleet-slicked streets toward Pandit Yad Adnan's bungalow, the cold seeping into his bones like an old accusation. Two weeks before, Job's election had promised a brief lifting of the fog that had settled after Donnie's triumph years earlier--a triumph that had driven Ivan, in a moment of black humor and despair, to mutter prayers to Satan under his breath. The next mornings brought the stench of tar hanging over the neighborhood, and before dawn the sound of many small legs scraping across the floorboards, as though insects were marching in formation toward his bed. He would bolt upright, heart hammering, then run to the bus stop in the gray light, convinced the world had noticed his blasphemy and was closing in.
By ANTICHRIST SUPERSTARabout 4 hours ago in Chapters
the berserker's tale - part III
In case you missed parts I and II, I have provided links below: the berserker’s tale - part I the berserker’s tale - part II
By John Coxabout 8 hours ago in Chapters
The Risk That Changed My Future
The Risk That Changed My Future ‎BY: Ubaid The day I stopped choosing safety and started choosing myself. I used to believe that safety was the same thing as happiness. A stable job. A predictable routine. A monthly paycheck that arrived on time. By most standards, my life looked secure. I worked in a quiet office, sitting behind a desk that faced a gray wall. Every morning, I took the same bus, ordered the same coffee, and replied to the same types of emails. My life moved in straight lines. But inside, nothing felt straight. Every evening, when I returned home, I felt a strange heaviness in my chest. It wasn’t exhaustion. It wasn’t stress. It was something deeper — the quiet pain of knowing I was capable of more but too afraid to reach for it. For years, I had dreamed of starting my own digital marketing business. I loved creativity, strategy, storytelling — the thrill of building something from nothing. I spent nights watching tutorials, reading books, and helping small brands for free just to learn. But I never dared to quit my job. “What if I fail?” “What if I lose everything?” “What will people say?” Fear disguised itself as responsibility. I convinced myself that staying safe was the mature choice. But the truth was simple: I was scared. Then one ordinary Tuesday, something happened that shook me awake. My manager called me into his office. I thought it was another routine meeting. Instead, he handed me a document. Due to restructuring, my role would be reduced. My salary would decrease. My growth opportunities would be “limited for the foreseeable future.” I nodded politely, but inside something snapped. I had sacrificed my dreams for security — and even that security wasn’t guaranteed. That evening, I didn’t feel fear. I felt clarity. If I was going to struggle, I wanted to struggle for something that mattered to me. For the first time in my life, I did something impulsive. I went home, opened my laptop, and registered my business name. My hands were shaking as I clicked “confirm.” It felt reckless. It felt dangerous. It felt alive. The next few weeks were terrifying. I saved every rupee I could. I reduced unnecessary expenses. I built a small website. I reached out to local businesses. Most ignored me. Some rejected me. A few replied with polite “maybe later.” There were nights I lay awake wondering if I had made the biggest mistake of my life. One afternoon, I almost gave up. I had just received my fifth rejection email of the week. My confidence was cracking. My savings were shrinking faster than expected. Doubt whispered loudly: “You were safer before.” But then my phone rang. It was a small clothing brand owner I had contacted a month earlier. She had seen my proposal and wanted to give me a trial project. It wasn’t a huge contract. The payment was modest. But to me, it felt like someone had opened a window in a suffocating room. I worked harder than I ever had before. I studied her brand, redesigned her campaign strategy, optimized her ads, and created storytelling content that connected emotionally with her audience. Three weeks later, her sales doubled. She referred me to two other business owners. Then three more. Slowly, the momentum shifted. I was still anxious. I was still learning. But I was no longer trapped. The real transformation wasn’t financial. It was internal. I stopped waking up with dread. I started waking up with purpose. Every challenge felt meaningful because it was mine. Every failure became a lesson instead of proof of weakness. Six months later, my income matched my old salary. A year later, it surpassed it. But the numbers were never the real reward. The reward was freedom. Freedom to choose projects. Freedom to work creatively. Freedom to build something aligned with my passion. Looking back, I realize the risk didn’t change my future overnight. It changed my identity. I stopped being someone who waited for permission. I became someone who trusted myself. People often think risk is about jumping without thinking. It isn’t. Real risk is calculated. It is uncomfortable growth. It is stepping forward even when fear walks beside you. If I had stayed in that office, I would have remained safe — but small. Taking that risk forced me to confront my doubts, my insecurities, and my excuses. It forced me to grow faster than comfort ever could. Today, when people ask how I found success, I don’t talk about strategy first. I talk about courage. Because the hardest part wasn’t building a business. It was believing I was allowed to try. The risk that changed my future wasn’t quitting my job. It was choosing belief over fear. And that choice changed everything.
By Ubaid about 8 hours ago in Chapters
When I Realized I Deserved Better
When I Realized I Deserved Better BY: Khan I used to believe that love meant endurance. Enduring harsh words. Enduring silence. Enduring the feeling of being invisible in a room where I was supposed to feel at home. For a long time, I convinced myself that this was normal. That every relationship had its storms. That maybe I was just too sensitive. Maybe I expected too much. Maybe I was the problem. The truth is, when you’re constantly told that you’re difficult to love, you start shrinking yourself to make it easier for others. I shrank in conversations. I stopped expressing opinions that might cause conflict. I laughed at jokes that hurt me. I apologized even when I wasn’t wrong. I lowered my expectations until they were almost nonexistent. I thought that if I became smaller, the relationship would grow stronger. It didn’t. Instead, I disappeared. There were nights I lay awake staring at the ceiling, replaying arguments in my head. I analyzed every word I had said, searching for the mistake that made things fall apart. I always found one—because I was looking for it. I carried guilt like it was proof of my love. One evening, after yet another argument that ended with me being blamed for everything, I caught my reflection in the mirror. My eyes looked tired. Not physically tired—emotionally exhausted. I barely recognized the person staring back at me. That was the first crack in the illusion. I asked myself a question I had avoided for years: If someone I loved were treated this way, would I tell them to stay? The answer was immediate. No. I wouldn’t tell them to endure constant criticism. I wouldn’t tell them to accept disrespect. I wouldn’t tell them that feeling lonely in a relationship was normal. So why was I telling myself that? The realization didn’t come like a loud explosion. It came quietly, like a whisper that grew stronger each day. I started noticing patterns. The way my achievements were minimized. The way my feelings were dismissed. The way apologies were rare unless they were coming from me. I began to understand something powerful: love should not feel like a competition you’re constantly losing. Healthy love doesn’t make you question your value every day. It doesn’t require you to prove your worth over and over again. It doesn’t leave you feeling small. The more I reflected, the clearer it became. I wasn’t asking for too much. I was asking the wrong person. That realization was both freeing and terrifying. Because once you understand you deserve better, you can’t unlearn it. Staying would mean betraying myself. Leaving would mean facing the unknown. For weeks, I wrestled with fear. What if I regretted it? What if I never found someone else? What if I was overreacting? But another question pushed through the doubt: What if I stay and lose myself completely? That question scared me more than loneliness ever could. The day I decided to walk away wasn’t dramatic. There were no screaming matches or slammed doors. Just a calm clarity. I knew in my heart that I had reached my limit. I chose myself. And for someone who had spent years putting themselves last, that choice felt revolutionary. The first few weeks were painful. I missed the familiarity. I missed the routine. I even missed the version of them I had hoped they would become. But slowly, something unexpected began to happen. I started to breathe easier. I laughed without worrying if it would annoy someone. I shared my thoughts without rehearsing them first. I stopped apologizing for existing. I began rebuilding the parts of me that I had abandoned. I reconnected with friends I had drifted away from. I spent time alone and discovered I wasn’t afraid of my own company. I set boundaries—small ones at first. Saying “no” without explaining myself. Expressing discomfort without guilt. Each small act felt like reclaiming a piece of my identity. The biggest shift wasn’t external. It was internal. I stopped measuring my worth by someone else’s ability to see it. That’s when I truly realized I deserved better—not just from a partner, but from myself. I deserved respect. I deserved consistency. I deserved love that felt safe, not conditional. But more importantly, I deserved to treat myself with kindness. Looking back, I don’t regret the time I spent trying. I learned valuable lessons about boundaries, self-respect, and emotional strength. I learned that love without mutual respect is not love at all—it’s dependency dressed up as devotion. Realizing you deserve better isn’t about arrogance. It’s about awareness. It’s about understanding that your needs matter. Your feelings matter. Your voice matters. It’s about knowing that you are not too much—you were simply asking too little for yourself. Today, my standards are higher, but so is my peace. I no longer beg for attention or chase validation. I no longer twist myself into someone more “acceptable.” I am learning that the right people won’t require me to shrink. They will meet me where I stand. And if they don’t? I will walk away. Because the most important relationship I will ever have is the one with myself. The day I realized I deserved better wasn’t the day I found someone new. It was the day I found myself.
By Khan about 8 hours ago in Chapters
My Story in Canada
Opening Reflection Some journeys don’t change your life in dramatic ways. Instead, they soften you. They remind you of the quiet beauty in ordinary days, the comfort of family, and the way small moments can stay with you long after you return home. My trip to Canada was like that—a collection of gentle memories stitched together by love, curiosity, and the simple joy of being somewhere new.
By Iqraa Toqeerabout 8 hours ago in Chapters
What impact could the death of Iran's Supreme Leader have on the Muslim world?
Following the killing of Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei in US and Israeli attacks, Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian said in a message that “this great crime will be answered” and that “with all our strength and determination, and with the support of the Muslim Ummah and the free people of the world, we will make those responsible for this great crime regret their actions.”
By Real contentabout 10 hours ago in Chapters
Kia Ford: The Hammer Girl's English Premiere Production
Wearing an immaculate beige ensemble, highlighting innocent marketable features, Kia Ford continued surveying the courtyard, debating the open space future, “I have the two tickets here, are you prepared to head over to Anfield’s afternoon delight music festival series?”
By Marc OBrienabout 12 hours ago in Chapters
Karachi Violence During Anti-US Protests: 9 Killed as Pakistan Reacts to Iran Conflict Escalation
Protests are continuing in various cities across Pakistan, including Karachi and Islamabad, against the attacks by the United States and Israel on Iran and the killing of Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.
By Real contentabout 13 hours ago in Chapters
Who Will Be Iran’s Next Supreme Leader?
On Friday, Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Seyyed Ali Khamenei, who was killed in a U.S. and Israeli attack on Tehran, was the most powerful figure in the country.
By Real contentabout 17 hours ago in Chapters