Tagged "Series"

The Chosen; Chapter 6

I sit in our camp space glowering into the fire. We had been traveling for two days without any incidents. It was unsettling. Ahriman had known where we were. He had come after us and now nothing. Amara saw it as a sign that we had gotten away from him successfully, that we were now in the clear for the moment. To me, it felt more like we were in the eye of the storm.

By Katarzyna Crevanabout 19 hours ago in Fiction

TUS NUA - ch 53. Top Story - March 2026.

TUS NUA – ch 53 New Beginnings – Mia and Midnight (*)(*)(*) Finola knew Ali’s brother-in-law needed to put his mind at rest. She fed her arm through his and led him outside. “We’ll sit here. If you like, I can put a block around us so our conversation will be private.”

By Margaret Brennanabout 21 hours ago in Fiction

City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle

The dozen surgical masks I had stored at home—leftover from some forgotten time—were gone by mid-January. Even though I had rationed them carefully, reusing each one on alternate days, they vanished faster than I expected. Without a mask, my risk of infection rose sharply. And infection, I knew, was no small matter. The virus was not a rumor or an exaggeration—it was a presence that had already begun to reshape the city. At that moment, my most urgent task was simple and absolute: I needed to buy disposable surgical masks.

By Peterabout 22 hours ago in Fiction

City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle

When the Year of Gengzi began, the COVID-19 pandemic erupted in Wuhan, China, like a flood unleashed from nowhere. It surged forward like a ferocious beast, unstoppable, with no miracle cure to restrain it. Soon, it spiraled out of control, shocking not only China but the entire world. The dead appeared one after another—ordinary citizens, doctors, officials, even public figures.

By Peterabout 22 hours ago in Fiction

The Map of Remembering

The Road That Remembered Us A Mystical Adventure About the Journey Every Soul Is Walking No one remembers the moment the journey begins. Not really. We like to say it begins with birth. With the first breath. With the cry that tells the world we have arrived. But the old travelers say the journey begins much earlier. It begins the moment a soul agrees to forget.

By Flower InBloom2 days ago in Fiction

In Chinatown, I Saw the Truth About Survival. AI-Generated.

When I first started working in Chinatown, Manhattan, I thought it was only a temporary stop. Just a job. Just a way to pay rent while I searched for something better in New York City.

By Jenny 2 days ago in Fiction

Because of My Accent, I Finally Saw How Cruel Reality Could Be. AI-Generated.

When I first arrived in New York City, I believed something that now feels embarrassingly naïve. I believed that effort could overcome everything.

By Jenny 2 days ago in Fiction

I Finally Understood What “Work Experience” Really Means. AI-Generated.

When I first came to New York City, I believed in a very simple idea: If you worked hard, life would eventually reward you.

By Jenny 2 days ago in Fiction

I Came to New York with Hope, but Reality Almost Broke Me. AI-Generated.

The first thing I noticed when the plane landed at John F. Kennedy International Airport was the cold. It was early November. The sky outside the airport windows looked gray and endless, like a piece of iron.

By Jenny 2 days ago in Fiction

First Taste of Loneliness in New York. AI-Generated.

The subway screeched to a halt, and Mei sat in her usual corner seat, staring blankly at the empty cars around her. Usually, the morning commute in New York was a riot of bodies, smells, and conversations, a living rhythm that reminded her she was part of something bigger. Today, the train was silent except for the mechanical hum of the tracks.

By Peter2 days ago in Fiction

The Survival Battle of a New York Delivery Rider. AI-Generated.

Rain pelted the streets of Manhattan like sharp hail, bouncing off the asphalt with an almost musical intensity. The sky had turned a steely gray, the kind of color that seeps into your bones, chilling you before the wind even hits. Marco tightened the straps on his insulated delivery backpack and squinted through the sheets of water. He could barely see three feet ahead.

By Peter2 days ago in Fiction

The Invisible Battlefield of a Janitor. AI-Generated.

The elevator chimed and hissed, opening to a hallway thick with the smell of bleach and fear. Luis wiped his gloved hands on his faded uniform and looked down the corridor of the midtown apartment building. The fluorescent lights flickered above, casting shadows that seemed almost alive against the peeling wallpaper. The lobby below, usually buzzing with tenants and visitors, was silent. For the past few months, ever since the city had been gripped by the COVID-19 pandemic, silence had replaced life in the building.

By Peter2 days ago in Fiction