Microfiction
The Coffee Games
She did it her way--and we should too. ☕🍂 November rain knocked on the window and glass door of the Wits Cybercafe. The interior of the cafe combined with the month's transitional energy; it smelled of cinnamon, damp clothes, and thick espresso.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin2 months ago in Fiction
Countdown. AI-Generated.
Part One: The Plan The city streets were quiet as the four men gathered in a cramped apartment above a laundromat. Outside, the hum of streetlights and distant traffic was the only sound. Inside, the table in the center was covered with maps, printed schedules, and diagrams of a large suburban house.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Fiction
Bella Ciao.. AI-Generated.
The village of Monteverde slept at the foot of the mountains, wrapped in soft mist that drifted between the trees. It was early morning, a pale and gentle hour when the world had not yet decided to wake. Only one window glowed with light. Inside, a girl named Rosa stood at a small wooden table, tying her worn boots with slow and steady hands.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Fiction
Lines of death.. AI-Generated.
It was a rainy Thursday when Haruto found it. The sky hung heavy and gray, the streets smelled of wet asphalt, and his shoes squelched with every step. On a park bench, half-hidden under a soaked newspaper, lay a black notebook. No title, nothing marking it as special, but something about it drew him in. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands, noticing the weight. He opened it and found blank pages except for a first page that contained rules. Rules that made little sense, at first, about writing names and consequences.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Fiction
Shadows on Ashwood Lane.. AI-Generated.
Detective Jonathan Hale parked his car at the edge of the cobblestone lane, the soft hum of the streetlamps reflecting off the wet asphalt. Rain had fallen intermittently, leaving puddles that shimmered under the dim lights. The old Miller estate loomed ahead, its windows dark and shuttered, yet the faint glow of police lanterns flickered through cracks in the boards. The house had been abandoned for years, its reputation whispered about in town, and now it had become a crime scene.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Fiction
Breaking Points
I didn't think enough about the way things broke. Most days, I didn't think at all about that sort of thing. I just tapped my card against the little black box at the checkout, ignored the donation button, and went on my way. I just hopped on the train. Walked into my office. Did several dozen tasks. And that was that.
By Silver Daux2 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker’s Promise
M Mehran Everyone in the quiet town of Eldenbrook knew Elias Thorn, the old clockmaker whose shop stood at the corner of Willow Street. The windows were always fogged with dust and time, and the shelves were filled with clocks—grandfather clocks, pocket watches, delicate sand timers, and curious contraptions no one had names for.
By Muhammad Mehran2 months ago in Fiction
Sarah and Nicole
Sarah gazed into her bedroom mirror, admiring her freshly brushed shoulder-length blonde hair and shiny pink lipgloss. She wanted to wear more makeup, but since she was only nine years old, her mom didn't think she was ready. It was annoying to have to wait, but at least her lipgloss went well with her pink skirt and top. Her nail polish was a similar shade of pink, and she had gotten very good at applying it evenly without getting it on her skin. Sarah grinned, happy with how pretty she had made herself for the party. She couldn't wait for everyone to see her.
By Leah Flesher2 months ago in Fiction
