Stream of Consciousness

Ashes of the Burned
When Aelia's village was reduced to ash by the Unitist Seekers, all that remained was silence—and her. The fire that consumed her home did not touch her skin, but it scarred her soul. Justice was preached as flames devoured her past. The Seekers called it divine cleansing. She called it annihilation.
By F. M. Rayaan8 months ago in Fiction
The Moon’s Chosen
The first time Kiran sleepwalked into the forest, he awoke beneath a silver-lit sky with no memory of how he got there. Before him stood an ancient shrine, half-sunken in earth, its marble kissed by moonlight and vine. He should have been afraid. But he wasn’t.
By F. M. Rayaan8 months ago in Fiction
Inheritance: The Lost Prayer
The ruins of the monastery always whispered, but no one listened anymore. Toma did. He had grown up on their edges, sleeping under shattered stone arches and moss-covered saints whose faces time had erased. The villagers called him "beynaam" — the nameless. No parents, no lineage, just a boy who wandered too close to sacred ground.
By F. M. Rayaan8 months ago in Fiction
🎸Strings Attached: A Love Letter Exchange Between Cathy’s Guitar and Her Plectrum.
There’s music in love—and love in music—but what if the instruments themselves could speak? In a sultry, poetic response to Oneg The Arctic’s "Inanimate Love Letter Challenge," two often-overlooked participants in every heartstring-plucking performance finally get their say: Cathy’s Guitar, the faithful and resonant partner of many songs, and one of Cathy’s many plectrums, a wandering spark with a sharp edge and a bruised heart.
By Test8 months ago in Fiction
Lemonade Skies
The first thing Ava noticed when she stepped off the bus was the smell of lemons. Not strong, not artificial — just faint enough to feel real. The kind of scent that danced through the summer breeze and reminded her of freedom, even if she hadn’t felt it in a long time.
By Esther Sun8 months ago in Fiction
Punishment
Get this published book here. An Excerpt from the Book by Joey Raines Rain was coming down like the world was ending, each drop smashing against the windshield like tiny bombs. The wipers couldn't keep up, squealing and scraping as they fought back and forth in time with Luke's pounding heart. He was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles had gone white, hands slippery with sweat even though the October cold was seeping through his car's broken heater.
By Joey Raines8 months ago in Fiction
India 4th largest economy world news
India has officially surpassed Japan to become the world's fourth-largest economy, marking a significant milestone in its economic journey. India's nominal Gross Domestic Product (GDP) is predicted to reach $4.187 trillion for the fiscal year 2025-26, slightly higher than Japan's estimated $4.186 trillion, according to the IMF's World Economic Outlook report e Timfrom April 2025. Thes of India
By Wasib reza Fahim8 months ago in Fiction
Mark It Up
As a child, she started reading books very young. They were prized possessions, and there were rules attached, like no dog earing, and no lending to anyone untrusted.
By Belle8 months ago in Fiction
The Drawing of My Life
When I was a child, I believed that pencils held magic. Not the kind of magic that turned frogs into princes or moved mountains—but the quiet kind. The kind that turned thoughts into pictures, emotions into shapes, and silence into color. I didn’t speak much as a kid. While other children chased each other on the playground or shouted answers in class, I sat in the corner of my own world, sketching stick figures and stars on the backs of my notebooks.
By Esther Sun8 months ago in Fiction
The Ballad of the Noonday Slumber
In a quaint and unassuming neighborhood, nestled between the arms of time-worn streets and weathered homes, there lived an old man who had seen more than his fair share of the world. His eyes, though dimmed by time, held a depth of wisdom that only years of experience could bestow. One of his most cherished routines was taking a nap in the afternoon. The warm sun would stream through his window, casting a gentle glow over his weathered face as he drifted into a peaceful slumber, escaping for a while the burdens that life had placed upon his shoulders.
By Heydo8 months ago in Fiction
The Girl at Table Nine
Every Sunday, like clockwork, she sat at table nine. Same black coat. Same tight bun. Same haunted eyes. She’d order a black coffee, two eggs over easy, and sourdough toast—nothing more, nothing less. She always came alone and never spoke unless spoken to.
By Ali8 months ago in Fiction
The Bookstore Where Our Eyes First Spoke
The old bookstore on Elm Street was supposed to be torn down by spring. It smelled like dusty paper and warm cinnamon, with creaky wooden floors that whispered with every step. Leah had wandered in on a rainy Tuesday, hoping to kill time. She wasn’t expecting to find the last piece of her heart between the pages of a book—or in someone else’s eyes.
By The Waiting Tree8 months ago in Fiction