Microfiction

The Kingdom Beneath the Sand
The Zeharan Desert was a place of silence and secrets. No birds flew over its heart, no wind dared to howl. Locals called it Al-Ruhm al-Da’imah—the Eternal Grave. They told stories of a buried kingdom swallowed by the sands in a single night, cursed by the gods for reaching too far. Most dismissed it as a bedtime story, something to scare children.
By M.SUDAIS 10 months ago in Fiction
The Outhouse
Would you use this outhouse? It seems to be in good shape as these buildings go, but looking around what else could be using this building as the season shows? Dare to go and check. You never can tell what one may find in such an establishment as this one may look like.
By Mark Graham10 months ago in Fiction
A Tale of Two Potatoes
Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a story Once upon a time, there was a potato. It grew in silence and secret, underground. Corn might wave to get your attention, and tomatoes blush a showy, nay, slutty red... but not so the humble tater.
By L.C. Schäfer10 months ago in Fiction
After The Stars Fell By Hridya Sharma
I often wondered what love is. Is it truly the warm, fuzzy emotions that ooze out of true mirth of care and adore, or is it a product of prevalent capitalism that exists within our world? That makes it easy for the consumeristic and hyperagile construct to sell products to the humans as a marketing tactic, to slip in through the psyche of innocent minds, to create a buzz, to find their weaklings and exploit them for company profits and expansions. I still find myself wondering what love is, pondering over that thought. I searched on Chatgpt What do you think love is, What does love truly mean? Is there any premise in the age-old tales of true eternal love, or are they just some flipping pages of history that are known to mankind through the legends of time, through the sands of ripple effects that last through time? Does happily ever after truly exist? I scrambledly typed and asked the language model, aka AI genius.
By Hridya Sharma10 months ago in Fiction
Life Found A Way
Oppressive, a hard taskmaster, it discards the dead and forgets the nearly-dead mercilessly. A mercenary hell-bent on protecting its own.
By Paul Stewart10 months ago in Fiction
PROGRAM LIRA
"Lira Protocol" They named her Lira—short for Liminal Reconstruction Algorithm. A name that was soft, almost musical. Suitable, for a being constructed to duplicate a life not her own.
By Subha10 months ago in Fiction
The Teacher's Desk
Who remembers being called up to the teacher's desk? The desk was usually covered up with all kinds of papers that were done at one time or another. You wonder why you were called, and notice a drawer was open. Do you peek? A desk of secrets and questions and answers to seek.
By Mark Graham10 months ago in Fiction
The Student Desk
Do you remember sitting in a desk something like this one? Placing your head down and seeing all the doodles that other students wrote makes one think and then scratch their own message to pass along to other new students who will be sitting in this same seat maybe one day. Good memory.
By Mark Graham10 months ago in Fiction
The Tailor Who Sewed Souls into Coats. AI-Generated.
Prologue: The Shop That Wasn’t on the Map The sign above the door read: "MENDEL'S BESPOKE TAILORING – COATS FOR EVERY OCCASION"
By Wiki Rjm10 months ago in Fiction
The Legacy Unlocked
The rain pounded against the window with an intensity that mirrored Emily's heart. She sat in her apartment, the dim glow of the streetlight casting eerie shadows across the room. Her fingers trembled as they hovered over the phone, trying to muster the courage to dial the number.
By Tovelle10 months ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Lullaby(Part-2)
You can read out Episode 1 link in below.. Episode 2: The Melody Returns The next day, Mira got up early. Once again, the sky was bright; the storm existed just in memory. But the song remained within her, feeling somehow incomplete.
By StoryTime10 months ago in Fiction
Beneath the Tree That Watched Us
The Tree on the Hill On the edge of a quiet village named Kalwara, stood a tall, old peepal tree, alone on a small hill. Its branches were wide, its bark dark and cracked like an ancient face, and its leaves sang with the wind. The villagers called it “The Watching Tree”, because no matter where you stood on the hill, it felt like the tree was looking right at you.
By Muhammad Hayat10 months ago in Fiction