Classical

Mr. Nightingale
I was only 3 years old when Mr. Nightingale came into my life. To me, he was a friend, everything but imaginary. He stood 7 feet tall, dark red skin, black shirt and pants, and a white trench coat that was always clean regardless of what we did together. He also had a black walking stick with a bird on top.
By David E. Perry7 months ago in Fiction
The Most Famous Woman On The Planet. Winner in You Were Never Really Here Challenge.
I made the choice. He accepted it. And yet— "The woman you put here with me” — that’s what he called me. That’s all I was to him.
By Casara Clark7 months ago in Fiction
“Fading with Grace: A Predator’s Silent Mercy”
Beneath the trembling night sky, One man walked through shadows. No sword hung by side. No shield guarded his heart. The forest whispered dark warnings.
By Noor khan7 months ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Cried Wolf
In a quiet village nestled between green hills and silver streams, there lived a boy named Arlen. He was no older than twelve, but he was already trusted with a big job — guarding the village's flock of sheep. Every morning, Arlen would guide the woolly animals to the pastures just outside the village and spend the day watching over them.
By Miraj 7 months ago in Fiction
The Last Phone Booth
The Last Phone Booth By Habib On Thursday morning, nestled between the post office and the old bakery that still smelled like cinnamon and yeast from twenty years ago, stood a phone booth that hadn’t been there the night before.
By Habib7 months ago in Fiction
The Last Minute A Story of Dying . Content Warning.
The noise was the first to leave him. He could see the lips of his daughter, feel the tremble of her hand on his, but could no longer hear her. Not the soft whisper of her voice. Not the garbled sob in her throat. Not the quiet beep of the machines. As if life itself had lowered the level, as if the world was backing away quietly, waiting to release.
By Dr Haider ali shamsher7 months ago in Fiction
The Space Between Words. Runner-Up in You Were Never Really Here Challenge.
Dear Elena, I finished chapter twelve today. You were right about Mr. Darcy — he's insufferable, but I think that's the point. Do you suppose Austen had any idea how many people would fall in love with him anyway? And there’s something in the way he pauses when Elizabeth is turned away…
By Neli Ivanova7 months ago in Fiction
“The Coffee Shop on 9th Street”
Not since the accident had he walked this street. The sidewalk still cracked near the lamppost, the same rusted bench waited by the old bakery. It had been three years. Three long, lonely years.
By Muhammad Riaz7 months ago in Fiction
The Silent Witness
Rain lashed against the windows of Senator Gregory Harrow’s office, the sound like a thousand whispered secrets. Detective Elias Vorne stepped inside, his sharp gray eyes missing nothing—the too-perfect placement of the gun in the senator’s hand, the lack of powder burns, the faint scent of cologne that didn’t belong to the victim.
By Md. Muzammal Rahman Pir7 months ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Borrowed Time
The Worst Morning Ever Leo Winters was having the worst morning of his entire life. He missed the school bus. He spilled chocolate milk on his math homework. His big science project—the volcano—fell apart. And when he got to school (late), his best friend Olivia was mad at him because he forgot to save her a seat at lunch yesterday.
By Lucien Hollow 7 months ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Lost Child
The wind stirred softly through the cracked windows of St. Elora’s Orphanage, bringing with it the faint scent of pine and distant rain. The children had long since fallen asleep in their narrow beds, but Amara lay wide-eyed, her fingers tracing the worn edges of a photograph she kept hidden beneath her pillow. The photo was faded—just a woman in a wide-brimmed hat and a small girl in pigtails, smiling at something beyond the frame. No names, no date. Just a whisper of a life before the silence began.
By Sadhan abid7 months ago in Fiction
He Promised Me Forever—Then Left Without a Warning"
They say love doesn’t always end with a bang. Sometimes, it ends in a whisper—or in my case, with a slow fade and a final “Seen” under my last message.
By Nimatullah7 months ago in Fiction