Classical

Ms. McFadden
Beverly McFadden Beverly McFadden wore a bright red bucket hat, a navy-blue and orange striped summer dress, one purple shoe and one yellow shoe. She had a white jacket with black polka dots. She rode into town on a heavily used Segway PT. It was slightly modified to reach a top speed of 35 MPH—at least that’s what she said. The fact that she was able to pass several cars on the road made most believe she had to be traveling closer to 50.
By David E. Perry5 months ago in Fiction
The Echo of the Shadow in Iași
In an Iași enveloped by late autumn, where rusty leaves danced a melancholic tango on the old cobblestones, and the air carried the sweet aroma of freshly baked cozonac, a story unfolded that defied the boundaries of reality. It wasn't a tale of noisy ghosts or spectral apparitions, but one far more subtle, more insidious, an illusion so powerful that it shaped destinies.
By alin butuc5 months ago in Fiction
The Cat and the Dog
The Cat and the Dog In the quiet town of Willowbrook, where the streets were lined with cobblestones and the houses carried flower boxes on their windowsills, two very different animals lived side by side.
By ALEX_BLACK5 months ago in Fiction
A Thousand Unwritten Letters
Prologue: The Letters That Never Reached In the dusty wooden chest beneath her grandmother’s desk, Eliza found them— bundles of yellowing envelopes, tied with fading blue ribbon.
By Khan584 5 months ago in Fiction
The Last Voyage
Odysseus the Pioneer, Odysseus the Adventurer, Odysseus the Scourge of Troy. Those titles, once marks of prestige, now taunt me. They were given to me by the men and women of my youth, the Greeks who sailed 10,000 ships across the sea to forge a legend. Now they are spoken only by my pitiful subjects who have grown fat on the spoils. They have never known the walls of Troy, the Wooden Horse, the Cyclops, or the man eating Laestrygonians. They use them to gain my favour to further their own interests, rats feasting on the corpses of lions.
By Sebastian Swift5 months ago in Fiction
The Hidden Library
The Hidden Library Max had always loved books. His room was stacked from floor to ceiling with novels, short stories, and dusty encyclopedias he’d inherited from his grandparents. But nothing in his collection compared to the thrill of the local library—the scent of old pages, the quiet hum of readers, and the promise that somewhere, in the middle of those shelves, a story might reach out and grab him.
By Numan writes5 months ago in Fiction
The Cog-Boy of Aethel. AI-Generated.
In the heart of Aethel, where copper pipes snaked between buildings like metallic veins and steam clouds drifted perpetually through brass-framed windows, Master Elara Vance bent over her greatest work. The workshop around her hummed with the constant thrum of aether-powered machinery, crystalline conduits pulsing with ethereal blue light that cast dancing shadows across walls lined with gears, springs, and arcane instruments.
By Shane D. Spear5 months ago in Fiction
The Day the Café Danced
Every morning, the sun climbed over the red rooftops of Marigold City, and people hurried to start their day. At the Thinker’s Corner Café, the smell of warm coffee and fresh pastries always greeted visitors. But no one expected that one morning, the café would burst into dance.
By Mehran Aman5 months ago in Fiction
AI for the Mind
The Rise of Digital Therapy Tools In recent years, mental health has become a central topic across Europe, with rising awareness about depression, anxiety, and burnout. Traditionally, access to therapy has been limited by long waiting times, high costs, and stigma. This is where artificial intelligence (AI) has stepped in, offering new ways to make mental health support more accessible.
By Muhammad Ibrahim5 months ago in Fiction
The Last Candle in the Storm
The storm came without warning. By late evening, the clouds had swallowed the horizon, and the winds tore through the village with a voice that roared like an angry giant. The rain fell in sheets, pounding rooftops and rattling shutters. In a matter of minutes, the power lines went down, plunging every home into silence and pitch-black darkness.
By Azmat Ali5 months ago in Fiction
The Night I Couldn’t Sleep. AI-Generated.
I couldn’t sleep that night. No matter how many times I turned over, closed my eyes, or tried to calm my thoughts, something inside me refused to rest.
By AhMeDd5 months ago in Fiction
whatever will be, will be.
Whatever Will Be. When I was just a little boy, I believed my father knew everything. He could hoist me onto his shoulders and make the world seem smaller, safer. He could mend a broken toy with his rough, work-worn hands. And when I asked him the questions that burned inside me, he answered with a gentleness that carried more weight than certainty ever could.
By E. hasan5 months ago in Fiction