Series
The Roar and the Whisper
The Roar That Ruled "eep in the heart of the forest where sunlight cracked through tangled canopies and shadows held secrets, ruled the mighty lion, Ragnar. His mane was like flame, his roar like thunder, and no creature dared question his rule. He hunted when he pleased, roamed where he chose, and took what he wanted.
By Arshad khan7 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Sat at Table Seven
There’s a quiet little café on East 41st Street, nestled unceremoniously between a secondhand bookstore and a flower shop that always smells of jasmine and damp stems. Blink, and you might miss it. No neon signs. No whimsical chalkboard menus boasting fancy lattes or turmeric infusions. The awning just reads “Mira’s Café” in fading gold letters. Inside, it smells like toasted bread, warm milk, and stories too old to tell.
By Arshad khan7 months ago in Fiction
That Little Twerp
I've no reason to suspect the guy, really. I say, "guy", I mean anorak-touting dullard. The lengths he'd have had to go to, to get his hands on my suitcase. Even just to be in the baggage claim at the same time as me! No, it's bonkers. But... he's just so weird. The contents of the case don't feel real. They feel contrived. Like a prank. Someone trying too hard to be strange. The more I think about this, the more my brain itches, and the more his pale, gawky face floats around in it.
By L.C. Schäfer7 months ago in Fiction
Dreams of Electric Sheep (Chapter 1). Content Warning.
For my Butterfly, my muse, my love and my strength. Electric Dreams Through the dimly lit bowels of an old apartment block, the matte black First Light XNR prowled quietly. Only the distant hum of the electricity driving its wheels broke through the murky silence, bright white lights stabbing through the dim yellow ones overhead and carving out the details in the basement. Broken concrete and rusted rebar, fluorescent lighting that was somewhere between dull and ineffective. Within the parking area, debris and cardboard and clothing concealed those who were holding on to what little shelter and safety they could find. Life in Neo-Sydney was hard, and as much as the blue-haired driver might want to help them, as much as she wanted help, reality was just to pass in the night.
By Les Fowler7 months ago in Fiction
