Love
Secret Haven
Secret Haven Written by Ann Garza Climbing the stairs to what will be my office/library/escape from reality room, I feel each step getting heavier. I was supposed to have help from my family and friends, but at the last minute, they all had “this came up last minute” things, or as I like to say, more important to them things. The house was still new to me, and I had promised not to work on any repairs in the room without at least one person with me as I tend to be accident prone. But, since they all bailed on me, I decided to go back on my word and head up to that room with a vacuum and cleaning supplies. Once I was certain I had everything needed to at least tidy the room up some, I sat on the floor in the middle of the room so I could decide on new paint colors and if I wanted to keep the laminate flooring or replace it with something else. Something more comfortable like thick, soft and plush carpet to the match the new wall colors. I had a few ideas in mind, but I knew I needed to clean the room and the 2 walk-in closets to get a better idea.
By "Ann Garza"3 months ago in Fiction
The Weight of Memories. AI-Generated.
As I walked away from the house, the fading light of the sun cast long shadows across the neighborhood. I felt a sense of peace wash over me, as if the weight of memories I'd carried for so long had finally begun to lift. The conversation with Mrs. Jenkins had been a balm to my soul, and I was grateful for her kindness.
By Muhammad Kashif 3 months ago in Fiction
Aubade. Runner-Up in Through the Keyhole Challenge.
We walked up to the bluff overlooking the river that day, hoping for closure. James had made a cross out of desiccated oak and carved your name on it with the dates. Someone brought flowers, a small bottle of Jameson (your favorite), and a pack of Camels to leave behind for you. We ignored the certainty that teenagers, arriving like clockwork just before sunset to party, would pilfer the alcohol and cigarettes. If you were there, you'd have gladly, freely offered it to them, anyway.
By Guia Nocon3 months ago in Fiction
The Dream Team. Content Warning.
PART ONE: “Well…everything’s packed up,” he says as he sticks his pale, skinny fingers into his tight jean pockets. At least I will never have to go out with a man that doesn’t know his proper jean size. I tried to stare him down one last time—trying to find more imperfections to make this breakup easier. But I couldn’t; I unfortunately was still obsessed and in love with the man that just dropped me like a bad habit after two years of being together—and only eight months of living together. He couldn’t even finish out the lease and give me time to find a roommate. In my opinion—he at least owed me that.
By Sincerely, Selaiha 3 months ago in Fiction
The Night I Realized Love Wasn’t Meant To Save Me
I used to believe love was supposed to be the thing that rescued us. The thing that filled every empty space inside a person. The thing that fixed the parts of life that felt broken. I believed that love was the answer to loneliness, to fear, to the type of quiet sadness that sits in your chest like permanent weight.
By Umar Farooq3 months ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Chased Light
I had forgotten what sunlight felt like—until the diary reminded me that hope never truly dies. --- I fell to the streets of my broken city, the buildings around me hunched like tired giants. Silence had claimed every alley, every corner. I walked with my hands in my pockets, pretending that the darkness outside didn’t match the one inside my chest. Each step echoed on the cracked pavement, a reminder that the world had moved on while I remained frozen in shadows.
By Shahab Khan3 months ago in Fiction
The Town That Forgot How to Dream. AI-Generated.
By Muhammad Kashif No one in the town of Darswell dreamed anymore. Not of oceans or skies or the faces of lost lovers. Not even of ordinary things like running late for work or losing teeth. The people simply slept — dark, empty, dreamless nights — and woke up with the same tired eyes.
By Muhammad Kashif 3 months ago in Fiction
Moonlight for the Homeless
The city was a machine of forgetting. It forgot the names of the people who slept in its doorways, it forgot the faces huddled under its bridges. Kael was one of the forgotten. His world was a tapestry of cold concrete, harsh lights, and the averted gazes of a thousand strangers.
By Habibullah3 months ago in Fiction
