Satire
Return of the King
Great literature gives meaning to humanity, it adds a deeper significance to the actions people take. This was the principle he had in his mind, as he immersed himself in writing The Art of the Steal, the long overdue sequel to his best-selling The Art of the Deal. When the day arrived, Mar-a-Lago hosted its launch, glamorous, with shrimp towers ten feet high and an ice sculpture with his signature thumbs-up, glistening in the crowd gathered under the bright Florida sun.
By Scott Christenson🌴6 months ago in Fiction
When the Moon Forgot to Shine
The house was silent when I woke up. Not the comfortable kind of silence—the kind you’d expect when the world is asleep and dreaming—but a hollow one. The kind that echoes in your bones and makes the air feel heavier than it should.
By Kamran khan6 months ago in Fiction
A Child’s Dream of Mars. AI-Generated.
1. The Boy Who Watched the Sky In a small, crowded city, nestled between concrete towers and tangled wires, lived a boy named Aasim. At just twelve years old, he had one peculiar habit—every evening after school, he would climb the stairs to the roof and just stare at the sky.
By Kaleem Ullah6 months ago in Fiction
Three Little Fools and the Big Bad Shareholder. Top Story - July 2025.
Once upon a time, there were three little fools. Not mean fools. Just... a bit naive. A little too hopeful. Overflowing with good intentions and degrees that no longer paid the rent. They had ideas, subscriptions to collaborative tools, and a shared desire to be free in a world run by blurry clients and clearer algorithms.
By Alain SUPPINI6 months ago in Fiction
The Day My Toaster Joined the Insurrection
I remember it clearly: it was 6:38 a.m. on a Thursday. I had just inserted two slices of crustless, semi-wholemeal industrial bread, with vague plans to smear them with omega-3 enriched margarine. The toaster, however, had other ideas.
By Alain SUPPINI6 months ago in Fiction
We All Drank Tea While The Cannibals Came
So everyone was drinking tea. That’s how it started. The lights were warm, the kitchen smelled like cinnamon and mother’s milk, and the apartment (floor seventeen of a twenty-five-story building in the only neighborhood in Seattle where the rats had unionized) felt perfectly safe. There was a baby. There was a father. There was a mother. There were still walls and power and hot water. And then the TV screamed.
By Paper Lantern7 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker's Garden
There was a village at the edge of the world where time stood still—not metaphorically, but truly. The sun always hovered in the same place. The shadows never grew longer. The leaves on the trees were forever green, and not a single wrinkle ever touched the faces of the people who lived there.
By Lucien Hollow 7 months ago in Fiction
The Lantern of Whispering Trees
by Yahya Asim In a remote village nestled between the emerald folds of two great hills, there stood a forest known as the Whispering Trees. Locals spoke of it with reverence and caution. They said the trees could talk—not with mouths, but with murmurs carried in the wind. Only those who truly listened could understand their secrets.
By Yahya Asim7 months ago in Fiction
