Love
The Keeper of Midnight. AI-Generated.
The town of Ravenhollow was known for two things — its fog that never lifted, and the lighthouse that never went dark. Perched on the cliffs like a guardian angel turned to stone, it had watched over the sea for more than two centuries.
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Fiction
The Price of the Aesthetic
For Elara, Dark Academia wasn’t just a style; it was a religion. She didn’t just design rooms; she curated sanctuaries for the intellectual soul. Her signature was a perfect, brooding blend of mahogany bookshelves, cracked leather armchairs, vintage globes, and the lingering scent of old paper and ambition. Her clients were wealthy professionals who wanted to look like they’d inherited a library from a 19th-century Oxford don.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
“First Rain, First Love: A Story of Fate and Forever
Rain has a magical way of bringing strangers together, and for Aisha and Haroon, it was fate’s gentle nudge. On a chilly, rainy afternoon outside the university gate, Aisha struggled to keep her books dry, unaware that a simple act of kindness would change her life forever. Haroon, holding a large black umbrella, stepped forward with a smile and a helping hand — a moment so ordinary, yet so extraordinary. That single encounter under the raindrops sparked a connection neither of them could ignore. As friendship blossomed, laughter turned into unspoken feelings, and silent glances grew heavier with meaning. This is the story of how love began quietly, unexpectedly, and beautifully — under the first rain, on the first day they truly saw each other.
By hamad khan2 months ago in Fiction
The Difference
It felt like only yesterday that I met her, the years just pass by and I remember that day so well. She caught my attention then and catches more each day that passes. I look at her, getting lost in those eyes every day as she smiles at me. Her lips curving perfectly, her nose crinkles just so and that smile is mine always. Well let me tell you the story of how this perfect woman entered my life.
By Magnar Arne2 months ago in Fiction
The Bridge of Silent Bells
“You said no one would be here.” “We’re early,” Noah said. “That’s kind of the point.” The fog hung low over the Vltava, thick enough to swallow sound. Even their footsteps disappeared into it. Mira shoved her hands into her coat pockets, her breath a pale cloud in front of her.
By Aarsh Malik2 months ago in Fiction
Before You Delete This Message
The message sat unsent in her phone, glowing faintly in the dark. “Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to say I’m sorry…” Her thumb hovered over the send button, trembling. The cursor blinked like a heartbeat. She stared at the screen, thinking of everything she could have said, everything she should have said before it all fell apart.
By Muhammad Kashif 2 months ago in Fiction
The Private Room
It was hard saying goodbye to the old house. So many memories were tied up here. Like the time Greg placed the fake rat in the kitchen and scared Mom instead of Molly. Or when Moses dared Megan to run over his foot with her bike. He walked around with a broken foot and didn’t tell anybody until the next day. Or the time we had that huge blizzard. All of the kids climbed onto the roof from the third-story window and jumped off into the snow below. Timmy sank three feet down. We had to dig him out.
By David E. Perry2 months ago in Fiction
A Glimpse of Heaven
I never expected to see heaven. Not in any way I could have imagined. Life had been a series of gray mornings and quiet disappointments, and I had long stopped believing in miracles. Yet, that day, when everything around me seemed ordinary, I caught a glimpse of something extraordinary.
By LUNA EDITH2 months ago in Fiction
The Pumpkin Spice Protest
The first leaf of autumn hadn't even hit the pavement before the world went mad. Pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin spice candles, pumpkin spice dog treats. To Agatha, owner of The Crusty Loaf bakery, it was an assault on the very dignity of the season. Autumn was for robust sourdough, for apple-cinnamon scones with real diced apple, for hearty rye breads. It was not, she declared to her empty shop, for "flavoring perfectly good coffee with what tastes like a candle shop fire."
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
