Mystery
Tyra and the Tome
Tyra Elizabeth, the woman who invoked every ounce of admiration that was given to her, it was not her fault by any stretch of the imagination that her beauty alone inspired all the admiration she could afford. She found it more of a burden. A haunting disposition invoked upon her. At the time of her birth. However, the choosing of her lifestyle, whether it was fate or destiny or something different altogether, it invoked inside of her more of an outrage. Despite the most wondrous and glamorous beauty of all human creation. She loathed all of. Despite the attention then gentlemanly gifts. She was given more so on nonrandom occasions, or that when at any time she would step out upon the tears and screams of adoring people. She despised everything. She wanted to be left alone. She was not the type of woman or girl when I first encountered her. Who like being the center of attention? Everywhere she went, it was the same drowning sounds of screams and tears, the same adoring yes-man nature of her beast, it was not anything she enjoyed. When she rebelled. They only scream louder with enjoyment. Nothing she could do would deter the fickle demands of the public eye.
By William L. Truax III2 years ago in Fiction
The Misplaced Locket
I used to be a treasure so well-loved and once symbolized love and dedication. The mold was also determined to be a delicate, perfumed lock, decorated with elaborate engravings and encrusted with diamonds in a tiny size. Let my chain of gold once adorned the neck of a lovely maid whose sweet prize was me, above all other treasures on this earth. Now, unfortunately, I am in a rational polyhedron, far from my homeland, being lost and forgotten by people.
By Moon Ghosh 2 years ago in Fiction
Snowy Night
The snowflakes danced in the cold night air, creating a serene blanket that covered the world in a hushed stillness. In the heart of the winter wonderland, an old oak tree stood tall, its branches weighed down by the glistening snow. Beneath its ancient boughs, a lone figure emerged from the swirling white.
By Mason Darnielle2 years ago in Fiction
A Journey into the World of Volcanoes
First of all, For millennia, people have been captivated by the beautiful and powerful nature of volcanoes. These enormously destructive and creative natural phenomena are essential components of the dynamic geology of our planet. Every type of volcano, from mysterious shield volcanoes to massive stratovolcanoes, reveals something about the Earth's interior dynamics and restless energy. In order to solve the puzzles surrounding volcanoes, we will investigate their creation, modes of eruption, effects on the environment, and significant impact on human societies in this piece.
By Vijay Kumar2 years ago in Fiction
One Writer
One Writer A writer sits in front of an antique typewriter, ready to pour his thoughts onto paper: "Writing was my lifeline, the very thing that saved me from the depths of despair. Yet, I didn't write about trivial matters or indulge in the ridiculousness of love letters penned for unrequited affections. Words became my refuge, a sanctuary from the pain and anguish that plagued my existence. As a shy teenager with seemingly no prospects in life, I became a dreamer. A dreamer who would weep and beseech the moon to deliver the essence of my words, so I could tend to them with greater care. These words I wrote became my only flame, providing warmth in the face of the world's coldness. They acted as a protective shield against the venomous words of the women on the bus, who sought to pry into my life and label me as insignificant. Their hurtful remarks echoed sentiments that had only been expressed by one person before. And so, I transformed these women into the greatest villains within my poems and short stories, finding joy in their demise and giving my life a satisfying conclusion. In reality, I severed ties with my predetermined destiny, leaving those women on the bus to spew venom amongst themselves while I forged my own path. All of this and more, being a dreamer and a writer, was akin to granting wings to a condor, allowing it to soar far above the vultures. I discovered that I held control over my own destiny if I fought tirelessly, never relinquishing my beliefs. Compiling all my words and crafting a book in 2019 also played a crucial role in my salvation. The dream I aspired to was grander than ever, and the pursuit of that dream continues to this day. The struggle is ongoing, a constant reminder of my unwavering commitment to what I have written and the incomplete work that lies before me. I realized that if I am willing to fight until the end, without surrendering my beliefs, I hold the power to shape my own destiny. Piecing together the words and birthing a book in 2019 was a salvation in itself. The dream, however, reaches far beyond that milestone. The fight for my dream is far from over, and I embrace the perpetual struggle as a testament of my love for what I have written and the work that remains unfinished. If you have experienced the same, then you know that words hold the power to heal. They possess the cure within their very essence. So, cry, smile, and fight. Be the architect of your own world, one that brings harmony to our own. Write the words that can save you from a fate you do not desire. Sketch the destination you wish to reach. Have you felt the same? If so, then embrace the power of words as your remedy. The cure lies within the act of writing." As the typewriter emits its final sound, the writer removes the sheet, crumples it, and tosses it into the trash can. Frustration seeps in. "This is what the world does to all writers," the writer laments. "Come to me now with your hollow flattery, and I will discard it just as I did this crumpled page. How cruel you are." The writer closes the typewriter, placing it within a box of memories, and steps out onto the balcony to savor the last sips of his mint tea, seeking solace in the tranquility of the moment.
By Antonio Madrugada2 years ago in Fiction
