Microfiction
Nostalgia Is Not That Deep!
As time passed, memories started to gather like fireflies in a jar, each one a tiny beacon of joy from days gone by. There was that favorite toy, a worn-out bear with button eyes, and the soft, comforting blanket that wrapped you in warmth on chilly nights. These treasures held within them the essence of childhood, a time of laughter and innocence. It's like giving your heart a big hug because you remember something you loved when you were little.
By Mamoona Rana2 years ago in Fiction
Why a Zombie Apocalypse Is Inevitable
In the famous game and television series, The Last of Us, humanity is on the verge of ruin from a fungal infection that turns people into zombie-like creatures. This situation might appear to be from science fiction, but it has frightening beginnings in the real world. The real-world fungus Ophiocordyceps unilateralis, which is also called the zombie-ant fungus, demonstrates the scary abilities that foreshadow a possible future danger to humans.
By Amine Oubih2 years ago in Fiction
The Town Comes Alive
A little town in the north hibernates for about nine months of the year and very little happens in town. Until tourist season hits and there are people everywhere. They buy up the local produce, visit the gorgeous countryside and fill the local pub to the brim with laughter and song.
By Colleen Millsteed 2 years ago in Fiction
Bad Boy. Content Warning.
I don't know what I am. I shake, to get the mad off me. When I've been a good boy, I have two legs and drink coffee. I drive to a tall place made of glass, and nod seriously in a smart suit. The females wear paint, smell strongly like chemicals, touch my elbow, grimace wide and red. I eat dinner at the table. I'm allowed in the bed. She lets me mount her.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
A Walk in the Woods
The wide open spaces were calling to her. The linear orderliness of blocks with their rectangular form and regimentation were starting to literally box her in. She felt cramped, encroached upon, her colour bleached by the drudge and the drain of city living.
By Rachel Deeming2 years ago in Fiction
