Fable
The Roar and the Whisper
The Roar That Ruled "eep in the heart of the forest where sunlight cracked through tangled canopies and shadows held secrets, ruled the mighty lion, Ragnar. His mane was like flame, his roar like thunder, and no creature dared question his rule. He hunted when he pleased, roamed where he chose, and took what he wanted.
By Arshad khan7 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Sat at Table Seven
There’s a quiet little café on East 41st Street, nestled unceremoniously between a secondhand bookstore and a flower shop that always smells of jasmine and damp stems. Blink, and you might miss it. No neon signs. No whimsical chalkboard menus boasting fancy lattes or turmeric infusions. The awning just reads “Mira’s Café” in fading gold letters. Inside, it smells like toasted bread, warm milk, and stories too old to tell.
By Arshad khan7 months ago in Fiction
Long Nose the Liar. Top Story - July 2025.
There was an old liar who lived in our village. I’m sure of it. No one else seems to remember him, but then again no one else seemed to like him either. Back then the other children called him “Long Nose the Liar” because he looked like Pinocchio, and all his stories sounded like lies.
By Judah LoVato7 months ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Wasn't There
I hadn’t been home in twelve years. Not really. Not the kind of home that smells like old wood and lemon soap, with drawers that jam halfway and a back door that groans like a dying animal. But here I was, back in my parents’ house — the house I grew up in — standing in the silence of the foyer, key still trembling in my hand.
By Alain SUPPINI7 months ago in Fiction
The Second First Time Again Revisited
"This will be the second time you have invented a new genre of writing?" Sean asked skeptically of his close friend Tom as they drove slowly down Main Street. It was a gorgeous spring day, traffic was light, and they had the windows rolled down. "Not exactly my doubting Thomas." Sean was quite pleased with himself for having thought up that reply, which managed to use his friends name in a way which he thought quite clever and he laughed softly to himself before continuing. "I have invented many more genre than two, however, this is the second one I have invented specifically in response to a writing challenge. And, ironically, or perhaps not, they are both what I would call meta genre. The first I called meta-magical satironical realism." Tom looked at Sean and rolled his eyes, snorted loudly then said "Satironical is not a word dude." "It is a word I invented, exactly like the genre which it describes. You will note, if you are paying attention, that an invented word to describe an invented genre is also very meta which is perfect since the entire genre is meta, meta-magical at least. And of course, realistic. Thus the name." Tom laughed out loud at that. His friend Sean was a nice guy, and he really did like him, but he was certifiably insane and often said things that made sense to no one but himself, and sometimes not even that much sense. "Buddy, you are one strange dude. OK. So, you have me interested. What is this second new meta genre you have invented?" "I call it meta meta satironical realism for reasons you will understand if you pay attention closely. "Wait a second buddy, slow down. I need to make sure I understand what you just said. You said meta meta satironical realism? So it has an extra layer of meta and is without any magical elements, but is still satironical, whatever that means? "Don't let anyone ever say you are not capable of paying attention my youthful ward Thomas, for clearly you are. You are correct. Meta meta satironical realism. And satironical simply means it is both satirical and ironic at the same time, or it can mean that it is satirical about being ironic or that it is a satire of an ironic story or ironically it can also mean it is irony that feels like satire or which has a satirical tone. Get it?" "Gheezus Mary and Joseph Sean you are friggin insane. But sure, I'll play along. I get it." They had stopped at a red light, so Sean took a deep breath and composed himself while he waited for the light to turn green before continuing. "I call this genre meta meta satironical realism because the particular challenge for which it is being written is asking the writer to tell a story about doing something again,which feels like the first time. My story, is about how this particular story I am telling right now feels almost exactly like a previous meta story I submitted for a different writing challenge for which the prompt was to write a story in the genre of magical realism. That was the inspiration for the birth of the aforementioned never before seen genre of meta magical satironical realism." "OK Sean. So go ahead. Tell the story. How does it feel almost exactly like that time?" "First, that story failed to win or place in the challenge or receive even an ounce of recognition nor praise, even though it was a work of genius likely unparalleled in the history of writing. This story, is almost certainly destined to the same fate and it is almost as genius. Second that story was intended to be satironical and so is this one. Third and finally, that story was intended to be meta, whereas this one is intended to have one extra layer of meta." Sean paused there, appearing deep in thought for a moment, then spoke again. "My apologies, I suppose that would not actually be a similarity between the two stories, but rather a difference. Oh well. Even I sometimes make mistakes." Both Sean and Tom laughed out loud at that as they continued driving slowly down Main Street feeling like it was the first time they had even done so, even though in actuality it was the second.
By Everyday Junglist7 months ago in Fiction
The Library That Only Appeared at Midnight
It was almost by accident that I found the library that only appeared at midnight. I had never heard anyone speak of it before—not in stories, not in rumors, not even in the strange local legends old towns like mine tend to cling to. It simply... existed. Or rather, it existed only after the clock struck twelve, and only if you weren’t really looking for it.
By Muhammad Asim7 months ago in Fiction
Beneath the Snow
The snow fell steadily that winter—soft, silent, and deceiving. It blanketed the small town of Halewick in a calm white coat, masking everything beneath with deceptive purity. Roads disappeared under inches of ice. Trees stood still like graveyard sentinels. But beneath the snow, something was hidden—something old, something no one talked about anymore. Or rather, something everyone had chosen to forget. It was the kind of winter mystery that wrapped itself around you, cold and patient, waiting for someone reckless or desperate enough to dig beneath the surface.
By Muhammad Asim7 months ago in Fiction
Once Upon a Nightmare
Sarah didn’t think she was giving up anything when she accepted the gift-card. She hurried into the dark alleyway not knowing how long she had, whether Frank was minutes or seconds behind her, she knew he was coming. He wouldn’t let her leave. The last time she had tried, slowly tucking small bills into the back of her underwear drawer, he had broken her arm in two places. He wouldn’t just let her leave now.
By B. M. Colville7 months ago in Fiction
