Humor

Party Animal
Hudson was outside, staring at the vultures. Look, I don’t really care for dogs. But now that we’ve got a proper collar on it, and the proper spells, it can’t harm us. We hope. Hudson can come and go as it pleases, but the Magi-Flee barrier on all the doors prevent its carrying any creepy crawlies into the house. And considering how insistent Hudson has been, going in and out, the place smells like lavender all the time.
By Meredith Harmon3 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 Nusuki3 months ago in Fiction
Trump — No Tie Guy
It was June when I visited my fiancée in Japan. We still couldn’t decide whether to live there or in the States — and I had just started learning Japanese, often hearing things completely wrong. She showed me temples, gardens, and glowing city streets, clearly trying to seduce me into staying.
By Erian Lin Grant3 months ago in Fiction
Day Two: Two Turtle Doves
It began, as these things often did, with an email. Your order is out for delivery! Estimated arrival: between 7:00 AM and 10:00 PM.
By Stephen Stanley3 months ago in Fiction
Day One: A Partridge in a Pear Tree
Stephen had never seen a contractor look so defeated by a tree. “It’s… indoor?” the man asked, standing in the hallway with a rootball the size of a corgi wrapped in burlap. The pear tree’s leaves trembled as if laughing, and a slick of damp soil tattooed the carpet in dark commas.
By Stephen Stanley3 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 Nusuki3 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 Nusuki3 months ago in Fiction
The True Story of Byron Baker Wolf
Let me start by saying that my name is Byron Baker Wolf. It’s not Big Bad. I hate that nickname. Look at me—do I look that big or bad to you? Think about it. I’m the smallest in my whole pack and the kindest wolf in the entire forest. Big. Bad. It doesn’t even fit me.
By David E. Perry3 months ago in Fiction
The Summer that Wasn’t
Every summer, we’d talk about doing something real—not just a barbecue in the backyard or someone’s birthday in the park. I mean a trip. Something worth remembering. And this time, it was finally happening.
By The Kind Quill3 months ago in Fiction
Tommy the Tomato & Peter the Potato: A Friendship That Couldn’t Be Broken
The Oddest Pair in the Vegetable Market In a bustling little vegetable market, two very different vegetables shared a basket. Tommy the Tomato was bright red, shiny, and full of energy, while Peter the Potato was brown, plump, and calm, content to sit quietly in the corner.
By hamad khan3 months ago in Fiction
The Light of the Desert: The Story of Bilal ibn Rabah (RA)
Heavy with the sun, with its rays scorching the desert into an oven of light and heat, the sun stood over Mecca. In a small corner near the Kaaba, a man was lying on the ground chained to the burning sand, his back raw from the whip, his lips dry and cracked. Each inhalation was punctuated by pain but from his shaking lips was uttered a word that would not die.
By Nusuki3 months ago in Fiction
The Spirit Box (6)
Chapter 6: The Snake from Heavens Gate I hadn’t even left for work yet when tragedy struck the office. As the early morning light seeped through the windows of the police station, a sudden explosion rocked the building. The night shift officers, not yet clocked out and minutes before their shift ended, scrambled to their feet and drew their weapons as a group of white-clad covered figures stormed into the station, firing shots into the air and throwing smoke bombs while humming chants.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 months ago in Fiction