Excerpt

Coffee, Leaves, and Wagging Tails
Most mornings, he grabbed his cup of coffee and disappeared into his office for another morning of clacking away while listening to the podcast fitting the moment.
By Matthew J. Fromm2 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker’s Gift
In Ravelle, time had a slower pace. The streets between the stone houses were meandering like the ribbon streets and every evening, in the air, the smell of bread from the old bakery and the faint scent of rain. At the very center of the town was to be found a little shop with a faded sign reading:
By Nusuki2 months ago in Fiction
The Last Dream Seller
In a town where night had lost its magic and the streets were silent, a peculiar shop stood between an old bakery and a shuttered bookstore. Its windows were misted with silver dust, and the faded sign read: Dreams for Sale. Most of the townsfolk passed by without a second glance, thinking it abandoned. But inside, under the dim glow of lanterns, a man worked quietly, arranging tiny glass bottles filled with sparkling mist.
By Muhammad Kashif 2 months ago in Fiction
The Last Love Letter
In the attic of a small, creaky house, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the world, lay a trunk filled with old letters. The letters were tied with a faded ribbon, the once-vibrant pink now dulled to a soft blush. The address on the top envelope read: "For My Beloved, Forever and Always".
By Muhammad Kashif 2 months ago in Fiction
Glass Danse Macabre
The stillness. The steely stillness that stole my breath was ever present. For so long, it had claimed my heart and devotion, and felt alive. Now it felt empty.
By Paul Stewart2 months ago in Fiction
“The Photographer Who Could Only Capture Moments That Would Be Regretted Later”
The Photographer Who Could Only Capture Moments That Would Be Regretted Later No one believed Elias Hart when he first explained his problem — mostly because he never explained it fully. He only said the same sentence every time people asked why he rarely shared his photography:
By SHAYAN2 months ago in Fiction
The Call of the Minaret
The early sun had just started to rise from behind the house tops of Medina when Bilal woke up. The air was still cool and heavy with the smell of sand and date palms. For a moment, he listened to the faint sounds of the city waking -- the distant bleating of goats, the clatter of water pots and the quiet hum of life returning after the silence of the night.
By Nusuki2 months ago in Fiction
The Light of the Desert
And the wind sang along the dunes, and Malik took a brush against his shabby cloak, and the desert sand was like tiny sparks on his face. This was hours of walking on part of him, in pursuit of the horizon that kept on pushing away. The sun was now setting, and coloured the sky with fire and gold.
By Nusuki2 months ago in Fiction
The Siren of Vanavara
The shack stood out among the snowy forest. Its rotting wooden panels and chipped roof tiles gave way to its dilapidated state. My boots crunched in the thick white powder around me as I drew closer to the door. The windows have been long since boarded up and are caked with dirt. There is no seeing through them to what lies inside. Many people have speculated to the horrors that were locked within those four leaning walls. My mind kept to the idea that it was simply an old shack meant to serve as some sort of a halfway house during travel, or even a temporary lodge for a hunter.
By Gunnar Anderson2 months ago in Fiction
The Missing Brick
I saw through your eyes, in a dream. I saw something throw a new moon at the sun, and push it away from your world. Your planet was saved from consumption by a burgeoning sun, but thrown into a cold darkness.
By A. S. Lawrence2 months ago in Fiction
To know, see, and shape. Top Story - November 2025.
2021 Frances's laptop fan whirrs and her heart pounds as she drags the hundreds of sensitive documents onto a thumb drive. She holds her breath, glancing at the conference room door. A pulsing progress bar estimates the file transfer will complete in 4 minutes.
By Ian Lund2 months ago in Fiction
Avoided Spaces
The reasons you choose to shy away and seal those doors, my dear, only need make sense to you For only you can open the door and welcome the healing. Only you know when to cleanse the heartache and repair the wounds But, be careful not to let those things fester too long, there’s a monster lurking inside of that room. And he wants to press harder, that thorn in your side, so it will slow you down and seal your doom. Stirring dissension and keeping you chained from the freedoms that forgiveness offers, keeping you trapped, all alone and wounded, inside that room ***
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden2 months ago in Fiction