Cliffhanger
The Library That Needed No Books
The librarian invited visitors to sit in silence. After an hour, wisdom seeped into their hearts without a single page turned. Some left understanding languages they had never studied. Others left knowing truths they had never spoken. The library taught through presence alone.
By GoldenSpeech2 months ago in Chapters
Tribulation Bay Chapter FIVE
Andrew drove the U-Haul truck and hitch down to the service station so he could turn them in before he was charged for any extra time. Seeing nobody out in the lot, he tapped on the horn, but got no response. He peeked in what seemed to be some sort of office, again he found nobody there.
By Timothy E Jones2 months ago in Chapters
The Cloud That Refused to Rain
A single dark cloud hovered over a drought-stricken village, trembling but refusing to break. People cursed it until they learned the truth: if it rained then, the cracked earth would shatter. So they softened the soil, and only then did the cloud let go. Sometimes restraint is the purest form of care.
By GoldenSpeech2 months ago in Chapters
The Man Made of Echoes
He never spoke, but every sound around him formed his body—footsteps shaping his arms, laughter shaping his smile, storms shaping his spine. One day, he found a quiet valley where no sound existed. Slowly, he dissolved, finally free of everything he had absorbed.
By GoldenSpeech2 months ago in Chapters
The Well That Spoke of Stars
Children claimed the old well swallowed voices. But Mara heard whispers rising from the depths—soft, luminous sounds like distant galaxies calling her name. She lowered a lantern into the darkness, but instead of water, she saw stars reflecting impossible light. One by one, constellations drifted upward, forming stories she had forgotten. The well was not deep—it was infinite. When she closed the lid, she carried those stars in her chest, glowing whenever she dared to dream too small.
By GoldenSpeech2 months ago in Chapters
The Girl Who Wrote in Ashes
She carried a small bowl of ashes everywhere she went—leftovers of homes she once knew. While others wrote with ink, she traced letters in gray dust on walls, on stone, on the ground. When the wind blew her words away, she smiled, for she knew meaning was not meant to stay. One morning, a child followed her, asking why she wrote knowing it would fade. She answered, “Because everything that burns teaches us how to begin again.” And the child understood, for her ashes left trails of hope behind her.
By GoldenSpeech2 months ago in Chapters
The Night the Stars Fell Silent. AI-Generated.
Mira had always believed that the universe spoke in light — in pulses, in echoes, in subtle vibrations that only telescopes and sensitive minds could understand. From childhood, she had felt connected to the night sky in a way that no one around her ever understood. While others saw stars, she saw patterns. While others saw darkness, she felt presence.
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Chapters
