Love
A Message Written in Moon Dust
Dr. Aris Thorne was a geologist, a woman of rock and reason. The first human mission to the lunar farside was her life's work. As her lander settled into the dust of the Mendeleev Basin, a place of eternal Earth-shadow, her heart beat with a purely scientific thrill. She was here to read the moon's oldest stories, written in stone.
By Habibullah3 months ago in Fiction
Letters From The Room That Doesn't Exist. AI-Generated.
Aarav had always been fascinated by old buildings, especially the abandoned Willowcrest Manor — a weather-beaten mansion at the edge of town, wrapped in vines like nature was trying to bury it. Locals said it was cursed, swallowed by time and sorrow.
By shakir hamid3 months ago in Fiction
The Cracked Piece of Moon
It fell on the night the sky wept silver. A meteor shower, the elders called it. But to a young, orphaned girl named Lyra, it was the night a star fell into the woods behind her village. While others stayed indoors, she followed the trail of fading light.
By Habibullah3 months ago in Fiction
The Sound of Rain That Never Falls. AI-Generated.
No one in Hollowbridge could remember the last time it had rained. The clouds gathered every evening, dark and heavy, but no drop ever touched the ground. People called it The Dry Storm, a strange curse that made thunder echo but never bless the soil.
By shakir hamid3 months ago in Fiction
The Crack in the Door
The Crack in the Door It started with a crack in the door, a thin line of light cutting the hallway in two. He thought I was away for the night, out with the girls, a plan that had been set and quietly cancelled. The text had come through earlier, soft and apologetic, and I had smiled at my phone, thought nothing of it, then turned the key and stepped into a house that smelled like lemon cleaner and someone else’s perfume.
By Marie381Uk 3 months ago in Fiction
Letters to the Forgotten Lake
The sun had barely risen when Elara found herself standing at the edge of Willow Lake, its surface smooth and silver like a mirror reflecting the sorrow in her heart. The fog clung to the water like a secret, hiding what had been lost. Ten years had passed, but the weight of that summer still lingered in her chest.
By Shahab Khan3 months ago in Fiction
The Last Letter from Room 213
The rain hadn’t stopped for three days. Outside, the city of Ashford looked like a watercolor painting that someone had left out in the storm. The streets were half-drowned, reflections of trembling streetlights flickering in puddles like dying stars.
By Shahab Khan3 months ago in Fiction
The Wolf Who Howled to the Moon
Kael was a wolf apart. While his pack communicated in practical snarls and yips—warnings of danger, calls to hunt, signals to rest—Kael was possessed by a different kind of sound. When the full moon rose, vast and silver, he would climb to the highest cliff, tilt his head back, and pour his soul into the night.
By Habibullah3 months ago in Fiction
