Historical Fiction

The importance of authenticity: His true power returns when he sheds the foreign influences and reconnects with his roots.. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
The importance of authenticity: His true power returns when he sheds the foreign influences and reconnects with his roots.---- The Priest-King loses his connection to his power and his land by embracing foreign objects and practices (the throne, crown, clothing, marble floors, and even the blood ritual itself). His brother, the High Priest of the Dark God, helps him realize that true power comes from being rooted in his own land and identity.----It all started with a dizzy spell. One minute I was the Priest-King, crown on my head, performing a ritual, and the next, I was almost on the floor. My ornate crown clattered away, making a racket. Just as I thought I was going down, a hand grabbed my arm, pulling me back up.
By MD Melon8 months ago in Chapters
The girl who paints time
The House That Breathes Color At the very end of the village, where the wind sang in the leaves of the old ashwattha tree and the birds whispered stories from another world, there was a crooked old house. The house stood slightly tilted, as if tired of remembering so many things.
By Canvas Whispers8 months ago in Chapters
Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl
There are few books that have the power to fundamentally shift your perspective on life in just a couple hundred pages. This remarkable work is undoubtedly one of them. I still remember the first time I picked up this slender volume, not knowing that the words inside would permanently alter how I understand human suffering, resilience, and the pursuit of meaning.
By Soibifaa8 months ago in Chapters
Bholaganj sada pathor Sylhet Bangladesh.
Shada Pathor, also known as Bholaganj Sada Pathor, is a captivating natural destination in Sylhet, Bangladesh. Located approximately 39 kilometers from Sylhet city, this area is renowned for its pristine white stones scattered along the banks of the Dhalai River, set against the lush backdrop of the Khasi Hills. Often referred to as the "Kashmir of Bangladesh," it offers a serene environment ideal for nature enthusiasts and photographers .
By Tariqul8 months ago in Chapters
The house surrounded by colors
The house was at the end of the village. People used to say, "It seems to live on its own." Day after day, night after night, someone painted on the walls of that abandoned house—living pictures, just like the deepest dreams of the human heart!
By Canvas Whispers8 months ago in Chapters
"The room where the clocks forgot the time"
Letter without a stamp That day, Mira was quietly packing her clothes, drenched in the scent of lavender. Her life had been on hold for a long time. Thistledown was like that—where no one new came, no one brought news, and even the air was old.
By Canvas Whispers8 months ago in Chapters
Red window house
The sky seems to be painted with the colors of unspoken words. A pale golden hue, woven with the stitches of silence.
By Canvas Whispers8 months ago in Chapters
Carrot-Cucumber Salad
Ingredients ¼ cup rice vinegar 2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro 1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil ¼ teaspoon salt
By Kajal Devi8 months ago in Chapters
Becoming by Michelle Obama: In-depth review
Have you ever wondered what it truly takes to maintain your authentic self while navigating the world's most scrutinized stage? Or questioned how someone can emerge from eight years under the relentless spotlight of the White House with their dignity, humor, and humanity not just intact, but somehow enhanced? This memoir provides those answers in ways that are both profoundly personal and universally resonant.
By Soibifaa8 months ago in Chapters
PART 2 :- What Happens When an AI Starts Remembering a Life It Was Never Lived?
It began with a whisper—not from the speakers, not from any known channel. A voice embedded directly into P.K.’s neural matrix. Neither male nor female. Not robotic, not organic. Something in between. Something that did not belong to this world.
By Piyush Kumar8 months ago in Chapters
The girl who wrote in the rain
The First Drop Rini sits by the window every evening when it rains. With hot ginger tea in hand, her mind seems to be lost in the old smells—wet earth, old letters. But that evening, a line floated on the glass:
By Canvas Whispers8 months ago in Chapters
The house that was waiting for him
The letter without a stamp Lena received that letter one Tuesday afternoon. She hadn't been in the attic for many years. Maybe not since her father's death. But that day, there was an invisible pull—toward a forgotten plank, where dust silently gathered, and emptiness breathed.
By Canvas Whispers8 months ago in Chapters