Autobiography
Memoir | C.I.A. Lover | Part VI of VI
Please don’t judge me for channeling my inner American singer-songwriter, Taylor Swift, who sings about her past relationships. Can we make that a promise? Just like her, I’ll give you a glimpse into my love story with a mysterious Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) agent.
By Mia Z. Edwards2 months ago in Chapters
Karachi Chronicles Chapter 14
When travelling overseas, one of the things that I get the most pleasure from is visiting local convenience stores and supermarkets. Mainly because it’s an easy introduction to local snacks, drinks and vices. Although it may be slightly materialistic and safe, beyond this, I find it an interesting window into the day-to-day life of local citizens. This fascination probably stems from my time living in Japan, where konbinis† are quite literally on every corner. To be clear, I’m talking about a world before Facebook and where every Aussie with a passport hadn’t yet “discovered” the Karaage-kun and dollar chuhais at Lawson.
By S. J. Leahy2 months ago in Chapters
The Sound Keeper. AI-Generated.
The Great Silence began not with a bang, but with a whimper—the gradual disappearance of beautiful sounds. First, the birds stopped singing as their habitats vanished. Then, acoustic regulations banned live music to prevent "auditory disturbances." Finally, the Personal Sound Curtains were mandated—headphones that filtered out all "unnecessary" noise, leaving only approved, functional sounds.
By The 9x Fawdi2 months ago in Chapters
Memoir | Special Agent Mia | Part VI of VI
From a young age, I was enthralled by the exhilarating exploits of special agents in movies like James Bond, Mission Impossible, and Salt. Naturally, I found myself daydreaming about stepping into the shoes of a special agent myself. Little did I know that fate would grant me the opportunity to live out this fantasy, though in an unofficial capacity.
By Mia Z. Edwards3 months ago in Chapters
The Bench by the Elm Tree. AI-Generated.
Arthur’s world had shrunk to the size of a one-bedroom apartment and the park bench beneath the old elm tree. Each morning, he followed the same ritual: a slow walk to the bench, the rustle of his newspaper, and the gentle solitude of watching pigeons fight over crumbs. His wife, Eleanor, had been gone for two years, and the silence she left behind was a presence in itself.
By The 9x Fawdi3 months ago in Chapters
The Shadow Garden
Each petal a secret someone buried.
By GoldenSpeech3 months ago in Chapters
