Fable
God Is Bored
God got up early one morning, and immediately regretted it. Gravity, it seemed, which he hadn’t really invented, was weighing him down a bit today. He thought he should do something about the affairs of the universe, then remembered he didn’t rule the whole universe: just this miserable corner of it. He sighed and sat back down on his bed, feeling heavy.
By robert fisherman3 months ago in Fiction
The Moon That Mended Itself with Light. AI-Generated.
They said the moon was dying. At first, I didn’t believe them. The sky had always been her stage — eternal, unshaken, perfect in her silver glow. But that night, when I looked up, I saw it — cracks running through her surface like veins of pain.
By Hamayun Khan3 months ago in Fiction
The Moon Who Whispered Words to Me. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
The night was quiet — too quiet to ignore. The clock had just whispered past midnight, and the world outside my window was dipped in blue and silver. The town lay asleep beneath a soft quilt of stars, and I sat alone at my wooden desk, a cup of warm tea breathing out curls of steam beside me.
By Hamayun Khan3 months ago in Fiction
The Last Garden on Earth
The world had forgotten what green looked like. Cities were made of metal and ash, skies were silver with dust, and oceans were mirrors of poison. For thirty years, humanity had lived under domes that filtered air and light — a sterile cage built to protect them from the wasteland they had created.
By Muhammad zahoor3 months ago in Fiction
Rain
Side A: Cassie I was sobbing. So, Imagine my surprise a knock came thudding. Boom, Boom It was enough to leave me confused. I was certain no one had followed me home, even through the haze of my tears. On the bus, I had tried to hide the fact that I was crying, keeping my head down and pretending to scroll through my phone. By the time I reached my apartment and locked the door behind me, a cold shiver ran through me.
By Lacie Grayson3 months ago in Fiction
A Knock at the Door
The knock, when it came, was so soft that Elara almost mistook it for the wind nudging a branch against the eaves. She paused, her knitting needles freezing mid-stitch. The little cottage was silent, save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth. It was a deep, introspective silence she had cultivated for years, a buffer against the noise of a world that had moved on without her.
By Evanthia Giannou3 months ago in Fiction









