Love

Fetterman's Wake
I'm the kind of asshole who would hold his own wake just to see what those closest — and not so closest — to me would say. To see if they'd even turn up. Ego, ego, ego; dies at death, or is it reborn and energized?
By Paul Stewart2 months ago in Fiction
The Library Of My Mind
The library Of My Mind In my mind there was a library of memories, and that’s where my book of love was. Along with all my memories, stored on a shelf, in the back, covered in dust, broken. There were books scattered all around the room that was my mind, open to various things, fear, hate, horror and loneliness.
By Henry Watson2 months ago in Fiction
The Cafe
Short Story 1 – The Café There I was, a stranger in a strange place, no family, no friends, what was I to do. I had to leave my home, it had been destroyed by fire, I had lost everything, so I wandered through the countryside looking, searching, for what I did not know. I had money so that was not the problem, I purchased clothes and things I needed as I went, but still I was missing something, and I would keep wondering the countryside until I found it.
By Henry Watson2 months ago in Fiction
DAY SIX: Six Geese a-Laying
The first sign was the smell. A sharp, swampy odour crept up the porch before the doorbell even rang. It smelled of ponds, panic, and something that might once have been straw. Stephen had been mid–Teams call, trying to look competent while nudging a partridge away from his keyboard, when Jane called from the hallway:
By Stephen Stanley2 months ago in Fiction
Love During War: A charmdate scam rumor busted in ashes
It is a strange paradox to live in Kyiv during war. Our city struggles through resistance. One moment I sat casually checking out people when drinking coffee under a soft yellow light in a semi-deserted cafeteria; the next I am sheltered in a corridor clutching a torch, listening to the baying of sirens echoing off over the rooftops. We still go to work. We still go shopping for bread. We still laugh. But underlying all of this is a repressed fear question: What will the next hour bring?
By Karen2 months ago in Fiction
Your Away
Your Away He was sitting there, watching, gazing out the window, waiting for the one person he has grown to depend on, the one he has so desperately been waiting for. She has been away for a long time, she had to return to her native country, the authorities had sent her back after her visa had expired, there was a mistake in some of the paperwork, and it had to be sorted out before she could return to him.
By Henry Watson2 months ago in Fiction
Revenge Sex Might Solve Your Relationship Problems
Mira never thought trust could shatter with a single sound, but it did—an ordinary notification tone echoing through her apartment. It was past midnight, and Arman had fallen asleep on the couch after a long day at work. She reached for his phone only because it kept vibrating nonstop, and she feared something urgent had happened.
By Mustafa2 months ago in Fiction
The Night the River Took the Moon. AI-Generated.
The villagers of Keshari Bend still whisper about the night the river swallowed the moon. Not the real moon — no one is foolish enough to believe that —
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Fiction
The Night the Stars Fell Into the Sea. AI-Generated.
On the edge of Miraan Coast, where the sea hummed like an ancient lullaby, lived a quiet fisherman named Arav. Every evening he pushed his small blue boat into the water, following the same rhythm, the same routine, the same tired hope that tomorrow might be better than today.
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Fiction
The Last Catalog
The Lennox Mansion Library was a mausoleum for books, and Elara was its reluctant caretaker. She was the last archivist before the wrecking ball turned two centuries of knowledge into dust. The city council had sold the land, deeming the building a rotting hazard. To Elara, each crumbling leather spine was a tragedy.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
love is real?. AI-Generated.
It’s strange how love just... happens. You don’t go out looking for it, it just shows up when you least expect it, like the universe decided it was time.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker’s Promise
M Mehran Everyone in the quiet town of Eldenbrook knew Elias Thorn, the old clockmaker whose shop stood at the corner of Willow Street. The windows were always fogged with dust and time, and the shelves were filled with clocks—grandfather clocks, pocket watches, delicate sand timers, and curious contraptions no one had names for.
By Muhammad Mehran2 months ago in Fiction