Love
A Boy Who Sent Wishes to the Moon
Leo was a boy who lived in a world that was often too loud and too fast. His parents were busy, his classmates were noisy, and the constant hum of the city was a blanket that smothered quiet thoughts. But Leo had a secret: he was friends with the Moon.
By Habibullah3 months ago in Fiction
What Charlie Said
Standing before the entry point to the past, I knew Charlie was right. She always was. Staring at the plain white door at the end of the long doorway, there was a sense of eerie foreboding in the air, that I could taste like acridity on my tongue. It felt as I imagine it felt for Danny in The Shining when he sees blood flow down the corridor of the Overlook towards him. There was no blood. My overactive imagination was firmly kept in check.
By Paul Stewart3 months ago in Fiction
The Coffee Shop Stranger. AI-Generated.
I always went to the same coffee shop on Tuesdays. Not because I liked the coffee — it was mediocre at best — but because it was quiet, and it felt like a tiny corner of the world where I could disappear without anyone noticing.
By James Taylor3 months ago in Fiction
Between Friend and Father
Anthony had always believed that being a good father meant being present—really present, not just at birthday parties and parent-teacher nights, but in the quiet spaces in between. In those moments when Mary wanted to talk about life, friends, music, or the future, he wanted to be the first person she turned to.
By Anthony Chan3 months ago in Fiction
The Tale of Two Sarah's
Sitting in front of her, she stared at the glowing message on the screen: "We need to talk. Tonight. It's important." From Marcus. Her boyfriend of three years. Her partner, with whom she had made a life in their tight quarters of a Brooklyn apartment — complete with his guitar propped against the wall and her unfinished paintings taking up every available surface.
By Neli Ivanova3 months ago in Fiction
The Bench Beneath the Willow. AI-Generated.
I first saw her sitting beneath the willow tree in the park, the kind of tree that drooped gracefully over the pond, casting long shadows like protective arms. She had a book open on her lap, and her hair caught the sunlight in a way that made it seem like the branches themselves were holding her there.
By James Taylor3 months ago in Fiction
