Psychological
Ash
At first it was only a nuisance. A fine gray dust that gathered on windowsills, on the backs of chairs, in the creases of her thoughts. It followed her indoors, clung to her hair, rested on her tongue with the faint bitterness of something already finished.
By Aarsh Malikabout a month ago in Fiction
Fire Killer
I nursed my coffee as I turned back onto 71st Road. I had gotten so used to seeing the familiar scenes of my silly town that I almost missed the small orange glow. I stared at it strangely, trying to process what I was looking at. I reached down and grabbed my radio.
By Leah Suzanne Deweyabout a month ago in Fiction
The Echo of Choices. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
In 2045, the world lay in ruins — not from nuclear fire, but from nature's furious rebirth. Cities crumbled under earthquakes, coasts vanished beneath tsunamis, volcanoes blanketed the sky in ash. Humanity survived, scarred but alive, forced to rebuild from the ground up.
By Mr. Usevolod Voskoboinikovabout a month ago in Fiction
Life Lessons from Panchatantra Stories
Most of us grew up reading Aesop’s fables, but you may or may not have heard of the Panchatantra, a collection of ancient Indian stories. I learned the five tantras of the Panchatantra are: Mitra-bheda (The Loss of Friends), Mitra-lābha (The Gaining of Friends), Kākolūkīyam (War and Peace), Labdhapraṇāśam (Loss of Gains), and Aparīkṣitakārakam (Ill-considered Actions).
By Seema Patelabout a month ago in Fiction
Shadows In The Mirror:. AI-Generated.
The reflect had usually been regular. A rectangle of glass framed in timber, hanging quietly on the wall of Sara’s bed room. For years, it had meditated not anything greater than her tired mornings, moved quickly evenings, and the occasional smile she forced earlier than leaving for paintings. however one iciness night time, as the wind rattled in opposition to the windowpanes, the replicate commenced to alternate.
By The Writer...A_Awanabout a month ago in Fiction
Still Life with Woman
Despite my youth and supposed good health, I had recently felt under the weather. In recent days, to be precise, I had felt my body slowly seizing up, heavier. It started in my fingers and toes: a loss of the freedom of movement expected for those digits at the extremities of my healthy body. Not exactly painful, but neither was it a piece of cake. After a day of that, I retired to bed, expecting to wake fully refreshed and better the next day.
By Paul Stewartabout a month ago in Fiction
All The World. Content Warning.
“The theatre, the theatre, what has happened to the theatre?” - Danny Kaye, “Choreography,” White Christmas 1954 -0- Legend had it that the performance I observed was the first ever recorded with omni-directional camera technology. It would go a ways to explain why the actors always held a prop of some kind. And showing true ingenuity, each prop was meticulously chosen to fit each character. Nothing ever held in their hand, or gestured with in emphasis could be called anachronistic or unfitting.
By Alexander McEvoyabout a month ago in Fiction
Roots and branches
My roots formed in uncelebrated places — In kitchens heavy with silence, In prayers said without witnesses, In hands that learned endurance Before they ever learned rest. They grew quietly, gripping soil That knew both hunger and hope, Teaching me early that survival Is a kind of wisdom.
By Awa Nyassiabout a month ago in Fiction
lost Viens:. AI-Generated.
The medical institution room turned into tiled in pale ivory squares, each one sparkling beneath the fluorescent lighting. To all and sundry else, it'd have appeared sterile, everyday. however to Mara, the tiles seemed to pulse faintly, as although they carried veins below their surface—veins that had lengthy because vanished.
By The Writer...A_Awanabout a month ago in Fiction
The Lonely Grave of Tala
On the vast and ancient soil of Iraq, along a quiet stretch of desert highway between Dhi Qar and Basra, lies a small, solitary grave. There is no marble, no ornament, no towering gravestone. Just a humble mound of earth with a simple name etched upon it:
By Ikram Ullahabout a month ago in Fiction
