Excerpt

The Man Who Planted Rain
One morning, under a sky bleached white by heat, an old man knelt in the dust at the edge of a forgotten village. His name was Noor—everyone called him Baba Noor—and he was planting seeds again.
By meerjanan4 months ago in Fiction
The Train That Never Stops
M Mehran Every night at exactly 2:13 a.m., Sam heard the train. It was impossible. The town’s railway station had been closed for nearly twenty years, the tracks long abandoned, weeds curling around the rusted rails. Yet, like clockwork, the whistle echoed through the valley, low and mournful, followed by the distant rattle of wheels.
By Muhammad Mehran4 months ago in Fiction
The House That Waited
M Mehran On the outskirts of town, beyond the crooked oak trees and the overgrown path, stood a house no one claimed. Its paint peeled, windows sagged, and yet every night, one upstairs light glowed as though someone were still waiting inside.
By Muhammad Mehran4 months ago in Fiction
A Dreamer's Journey
The neural crown fitted snugly around Pudding's head, its crystalline sensors pulsing with ethereal light as they delved deep into her unconscious mind. She had been asleep for nine months now, her frail body suspended in the gossamer threads of the Dream Weaver—a chair that seemed more grown than built, its organic curves shifting subtly with each of her breaths. Above her, translucent screens bloomed like jellyfish in the sterile air, displaying the vast archipelagos of her sleeping thoughts.
By Parsley Rose 4 months ago in Fiction
The Key that Called
In the old white house with the chipped into walls that smelled of dust and mold peered a hallway darkened by time. Down the hallway and to the left sat a junky old drawer and in that junky old drawer sat a cold and tired key.
By Parsley Rose 4 months ago in Fiction
The Forest of the Forgotten
The wallet felt foreign in Ellie's palm—thin leather worn smooth by countless hands, containing rectangular plastic cards and green paper bills that meant nothing to Amnity but everything to the world around them.
By Parsley Rose 4 months ago in Fiction
Fake News: The Psychic Echo
They called it Echo. The President reclined in his luxurious swivel chair, and stared at the blue glow of the monitor. "Echo, the Internet's Dreamcatcher," shone in bold yellow type across the top of the webpage onscreen.
By A. S. Lawrence4 months ago in Fiction
Skin Deep
"It's so hot..." Ammy croaked, sprawled across the freshly polished wooden floor. A fan wheezed in the corner, rotating back and forth every few minutes, pushing nothing but dry, dusty air around the room. Usually the fan helped her survive the long summer days, but today it was useless.
By Parsley Rose 4 months ago in Fiction
The City that Weighed Nothing
The lanterns of Lumen were said to be the brightest in the world. They burned without smoke, without wick, without heat, and, if you believed the Magistrates, without consequence. At dusk, when the lamplighters made their rounds, the city slipped from gold to pearl, from visible to precise, and every edge gained a clean outline of door frames, cobbles, faces and laws.
By Cadma4 months ago in Fiction
After Hours
Mira had always loved Constellation Books. The cozy bookstore tucked between the pretzel stand and the phone repair kiosk was her sanctuary from the chaos of Westfield Mall. She could spend hours browsing the fantasy section, running her fingers along worn paperback spines, discovering new worlds while her mom finished shopping.
By Autumn 4 months ago in Fiction
The Colours of Bees. Top Story - November 2024.
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. Neither came as a surprise to Moira. It had been a strong moon that month, and the powerful tidal surge that had backwashed the mighty Liriope River had swept over the valley like a hungry serpent, consuming without conscience the totality of lives in its path.
By Call Me Les4 months ago in Fiction
When Trust Breaks
Trust. Such a fragile word, yet it holds the power to build or break entire lives. I learned this not through books or wise sayings but through the scars life left on me—scars that still ache when the nights get too quiet.
By Nadeem Shah 4 months ago in Fiction