Science Fiction

The Last Heir of The Van Declaoria Bloodline - Chapter 4. AI-Generated.
It had become a familiar sound in Arlein. Water sliding across rooftops. Wind pushing against the narrow streets.
By Luke Dreayryabout an hour ago in Chapters
Tattoos and Rail Guns Chapter 19: Cavetown Orphans and Water Usage
Kev and the two lieutenants had been following the cavern for a few miles. The cavern may have been natural but had been reinforced over time. The supports were ramshackle at best but seemed to be doing the job. They did seem to be a little dustier than a cavern should be; there was no visible water either, which was weird considering that the cavern was obviously caused by erosion.
By Jamais Jochimabout 4 hours ago in Chapters
Tattoos and Rail Guns Chapter 20: Stairs and Treaties Are Negotiated
The Rochester-Fallon had not fared well during the cataclysm, a fact that Walker was beginning to appreciate. The lobby had been ransacked, with tiles and carpet shredded and destroyed and the desk itself was smashed. The elevators were definitely out, with doors broken down and cables hung down the shafts. This forced them to use the stairs, which were a ramshackle mess, with handrails barely hanging onto the walls and trash filling the stairwells. Given that the building was a hundred floors or so tall, they prepared for a slog.
By Jamais Jochimabout 4 hours ago in Chapters
The Last Heir of the Van Declaoria Bloodline - Chapter 3. AI-Generated.
The rain returned that night. Not the violent storm from days before. This rain was quieter. Slow. Steady. Like something waiting.
By Luke Dreayryabout 4 hours ago in Chapters
Loving You Taught Me How to Let Go
Loving You Taught Me How to Let Go ‎BY: Khan I used to believe that love meant holding on—no matter how hard things became. I thought that if two people truly cared about each other, they would fight through every storm together. Letting go never seemed like an option to me. It felt like giving up. Then I met you. You walked into my life on an ordinary afternoon, yet somehow everything about that moment felt extraordinary. Your laugh was effortless, your smile warm, and the way you listened made me feel like my words actually mattered. I remember thinking that day that maybe life had finally decided to give me something good. At first, everything between us felt easy. We spent long evenings talking about our dreams, our fears, and the strange twists life had taken to bring us to that moment. You told me stories about your childhood, and I told you about the things that kept me awake at night. Somehow, sharing those pieces of ourselves made the world feel smaller and kinder. I started to imagine a future that included you in every part of it. But life rarely follows the stories we create in our heads. Slowly, things began to change. It wasn’t sudden or dramatic. Instead, it happened in quiet ways. The conversations that once lasted hours grew shorter. The messages that used to arrive instantly began to take longer. Sometimes you seemed distant, like your mind was somewhere else even when you were sitting right beside me. At first, I tried to ignore it. I told myself everyone goes through difficult phases. I convinced myself that if I just loved you a little harder, if I tried a little more, things would return to the way they used to be. But love doesn’t work like that. One night, as we sat together in silence, I realized something I had been avoiding for a long time. You were no longer happy. Maybe you had been trying to hide it, or maybe I simply hadn’t wanted to see it before. But the truth was there between us, heavy and undeniable. And strangely, that realization didn’t make me angry. It made me sad. Not because you had changed, but because I finally understood something important: love cannot be forced. It cannot survive simply because we want it to. Sometimes love fades. Sometimes people grow in different directions. And sometimes the kindest thing two people can do for each other is to let go. That night, we talked longer than we had in weeks. Our voices were quiet, but honest. There were no accusations, no dramatic arguments. Just two people acknowledging that the story they once believed in was reaching its final chapter. I remember the way your eyes looked when you said goodbye. There was sadness in them, but also relief. For the first time, I realized that letting go wasn’t about losing someone. It was about respecting what once existed between us. It was about understanding that love doesn’t always mean staying. Sometimes it means stepping aside so both people can find the happiness they deserve. Walking away from you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. For a long time, I questioned whether I had made the right choice. I wondered if maybe I should have tried harder, waited longer, fought more. But as time passed, something unexpected happened. The pain slowly turned into gratitude. Because loving you had taught me something I never understood before. It showed me that love is not measured by how tightly we hold onto someone, but by how deeply we care about their well-being—even if that means they continue their journey without us. You taught me that endings don’t erase the beauty of what once existed. They simply mark the moment when two paths begin to move in different directions. And now, when I think about you, I don’t feel bitterness or regret. I remember the laughter, the late-night conversations, and the quiet moments that made our time together meaningful. Most of all, I remember the lesson you left behind. Loving you didn’t just teach me how to care for someone. It taught me how to let go.
By Khan about 16 hours ago in Chapters
We Were Perfect—Just at the Wrong Time
We Were Perfect—Just at the Wrong Time BY: Ubaid People often say that if two people are meant to be together, they will eventually find their way back to each other. I used to believe that too. But life has a strange way of teaching us that love alone is not always enough. Sometimes everything feels perfect—except the timing. I met her during a time in my life when everything felt uncertain. I was trying to figure out my future, chasing dreams that felt both exciting and terrifying. My days were filled with plans, responsibilities, and the quiet pressure of becoming someone I could be proud of. She walked into my life like a calm breeze on a restless day. Her name was Emma, and from the very first conversation, something felt different. We talked as if we had known each other for years. There were no awkward silences, no need to pretend. With her, everything felt natural. Our first meeting lasted hours. What was supposed to be a short coffee turned into a long walk through the city. We talked about childhood memories, fears, dreams, and the kind of future we hoped to build one day. It was the kind of connection people spend years searching for. Over the following weeks, we became inseparable. Every message from her made my day brighter. Every laugh we shared felt genuine and effortless. For the first time in a long time, life felt simple. But beneath the happiness, there was a quiet truth neither of us wanted to face. We were both standing at important crossroads in our lives. Emma had just received an opportunity to study abroad—something she had worked for years to achieve. It was her dream, the kind of chance that could shape her entire future. And I was in the middle of building my career, trying to prove to myself and everyone around me that I could succeed. We never planned for our lives to collide at such a complicated moment. Still, we tried to ignore it. We spent evenings talking about everything and nothing. Sometimes we would sit quietly, watching the sunset, knowing that time was moving faster than we wanted it to. One night, she asked a question that changed everything. “Do you think timing matters in love?” I wanted to say no. I wanted to believe that if two people cared enough, they could overcome anything. But deep inside, I knew the truth wasn’t that simple. “Sometimes,” I said quietly, “timing is everything.” The silence that followed felt heavier than any argument. As the weeks passed, the reality we had been avoiding slowly came closer. Her departure date approached, and the conversations we once enjoyed began to carry an unspoken sadness. We tried to stay positive. We told each other that distance wasn’t impossible. That people made it work all the time. But deep down, we both understood that our lives were heading in completely different directions. The night before she left, we met at the same café where everything had started. It felt strange sitting there again, remembering how easily everything had begun. Neither of us spoke much at first. Sometimes emotions are too big for words. Finally, she looked at me with a gentle smile that didn’t quite hide the sadness in her eyes. “You know what the hardest part is?” she said. “What?” “We didn’t do anything wrong.” She was right. There had been no betrayal, no mistakes, no dramatic ending. Just two people who found each other at the wrong moment in their lives. I reached across the table and held her hand, knowing it might be the last time. “Maybe in another life,” I said softly, “the timing would have been perfect.” She laughed quietly, though tears shimmered in her eyes. “Maybe,” she said. When we said goodbye that night, it wasn’t filled with anger or regret. It was filled with something far more complicated—a love that still existed, but a future that couldn’t. For a long time after she left, I wondered what might have happened if we had met a few years later. If our paths had crossed when our lives were more stable, when we were ready for something serious. But life doesn’t work with “what ifs.” It moves forward, whether we are ready or not. Even now, I don’t see our story as a failure. Some people come into our lives to stay forever. Others come to teach us something important. Emma taught me that real connections are rare, and that sometimes love can be genuine even if it doesn’t last. We were perfect in many ways. We just arrived in each other’s lives at the wrong time. And sometimes, that small difference changes everything.
By Ubaid about 17 hours ago in Chapters
The $55 Billion B-29: The Engineering Marvel That Became a Terrifying Weapon of Mass Destruction
When the **B-29 Superfortress** rolled off American assembly lines during World War II, it represented one of the most ambitious and expensive military engineering projects in history. Costing nearly $3 billion in the 1940s—equivalent to roughly $55 billion today—the aircraft was more expensive to develop than the Manhattan Project that produced the atomic bomb it would eventually carry. Built by the United States to secure air superiority in the Pacific, the B-29 became both an engineering masterpiece and a symbol of devastating destructive power.
By Irshad Abbasi about 20 hours ago in Chapters
Is the Middle East War Turning Into World War III?
Is the Middle East War Turning Into World War III? The current situation in the Middle East has once again raised a serious question around the world: could this conflict grow into World War III? Tensions in the region have increased due to military strikes, political warnings, and the involvement of several global powers. While no country has officially declared a world war, the combination of regional conflicts and international alliances has made many experts worry about the possibility of a much larger confrontation.
By Wings of Time a day ago in Chapters
The Last Heir of the Van Declaoria Bloodline - Chapter 2. AI-Generated.
Morning came quietly to the edge of Arlein. The rain had stopped. But the streets were still wet, reflecting pale morning light across the narrow roads.
By Luke Dreayrya day ago in Chapters
The Last Heir of The Van Declaoria Bloodline - Chapter 1. AI-Generated.
Alena. Just hearing her name made the cold rain feel less unpleasant. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and continued walking.
By Luke Dreayrya day ago in Chapters
Brass Ring Chapter 15: Lunch Between Brothers
Oliver and Cass entered the Les Enfants Bistro. The maître d' saw them, grabbed two menus, and asked them if they had a seating preference. Oliver held up his hand. “We’re looking for a guy sitting alone with circuitry on his face.” The maître d’ nodded and motioned for them to follow him. They were led to a corner table, partially in the dark. They were sat and Oliver ordered to cokes. The maître d’ disappeared.
By Jamais Jochima day ago in Chapters
Manchineel - OBE
That evening, when I enter my room, Dr Cho is already there. She jumps slightly as she turns and sees me. “I’ve just bought you some fresh water.” She pours a glass, then places the carafe by the bed. She covers her initial shock well, but I’m left with a niggling feeling like I’m 15 and she’s been reading my diary.
By N J Delmasa day ago in Chapters