Classical
The Friday Seat. AI-Generated.
--- Every Friday at exactly 5:30 p.m., Noor would push open the wooden door of Café Aranda and slip into the same corner seat—third table from the window, facing the street. He hadn’t planned for this ritual to exist, but it somehow shaped itself into his life like a soft, persistent tide that returned every week without fail.
By Ahmed aldeabellaabout a month ago in Fiction
White Rabbit
She exhaled a small puff of smoke as she leaned back against the fading oak tree. She kept her eyes closed for a moment as she savored the feeling of the plant ash coursing through her body. Without sitting up from the tree she brought the small pipe up to her lips again to relit the plants inside.
By Leah Suzanne Deweyabout a month ago in Fiction
Christmas Tales ~ Silent Night, Deadly Night
Christmas is a time for joy, for love, for peace. Yet peace survives only when evil is held back. The rules have shifted; Christmas is no longer about naughty or nice. For this season, nice takes its rightful throne in a wicked world, until the spirits stir again.
By Mia Z. Edwardsabout a month ago in Fiction
When Fiction Feels Like Friendship: How Sophie Kinsella Writes the Messy Hearts We Hide
There are writers who entertain us for a few hours, and then there are writers who quietly slip into our lives and stay. Sophie Kinsella often feels like that second kind. Her stories are light on the surface, but they carry the small truths we rarely say out loud. The longing to be understood. The guilt of not having life figured out. The wish for someone to see the good in us even when we make a mess of everything. Many readers discover her during a difficult season and find a kind of soft comfort in her pages. This piece explores why her work speaks to so many people, and why her novels continue to feel like familiar friends even as life grows heavier and more complicated.
By Muqadas khanabout a month ago in Fiction
Cui Bono
“This heist won’t work.” By Fredrick’s estimation, the look of bewilderment painting the face of the priest across the dingy tavern table didn’t make his statement any less untrue. To avoid his partner Grander’s inevitable stomp, Fredrick kicked his boots onto the table.
By Matthew J. Frommabout a month ago in Fiction
Christmas Tales ~ Three Wise Men
Christmas Eve in North America On Christmas Eve, three wise friends, Karl, William, and James, gather on a Microsoft Teams video call, speaking about their best friend, Jack, a sociologist of religion. Tragedy has struck: Jack was hit by a speeding car while grabbing lunch, losing critical amounts of blood. His family has donated, but he still needs more. Without it, he won’t survive.
By Mia Z. Edwardsabout a month ago in Fiction
A Young Boy Selling Umbrellas in a Rainy Village. AI-Generated.
Rain had a way of transforming the small mountain village. The dusty paths turned dark and glossy, the smell of wet earth rose into the air, and the sound of raindrops on tin roofs became a soft rhythm that echoed through every narrow lane. For most villagers, the rainy season meant staying indoors, waiting for the clouds to tire themselves out. But for twelve-year-old Rafi, it was the most important time of the year.
By Bilal Mohammadiabout a month ago in Fiction
Christmas Tales ~ The White House Christmas Thief
‘Tis the season of giving, and within the grand halls of the White House, the spirit of Christmas comes alive. Lavish decorations adorn the public rooms, showcasing mesmerizing Christmas themes. Unfortunately, the less fortunate souls shall never witness the splendor nor partake in the extravagant feasts that grace this festive occasion. However, there exists a White House Christmas Thief who harbors deep compassion for the destitute, and this tale unveils her most generous heist yet!
By Mia Z. Edwardsabout a month ago in Fiction
The Night the Stars Forgot Their Names. AI-Generated.
On the night the stars forgot their names, Rayan was the only person awake on the rooftop. He stood there with a mug of warm chai, expecting the usual comforting view—the stitched blanket of constellations he had admired since childhood. But tonight, the sky felt strangely empty.
By shakir hamidabout a month ago in Fiction
The Gospel of Gumption
The assignment from her editor was a footnote, a punishment for having annoyed a major advertiser. “Go to Gumption, Vermont,” the email read. “Cover their ‘Fall Furnival.’ Yes, with a ‘U.’ File 500 words on the quirky local color. Try not to poison the well.”
By Habibullahabout a month ago in Fiction
