Young Adult
The Lantern Beyond the Dust
The old village slept beneath a veil of dust and silence. Houses made of clay stood shoulder to shoulder, breathing out the weight of years. The scent of earth and forgotten dreams floated in the still air. Every evening, as the sun sank behind the hills and shadows stretched across the narrow road, a single lantern came alive — hanging by the door of a small, crumbling house.
By Riaz Hamkar3 months ago in Fiction
The Last Human
The coffee maker still worked. That was something. Lorna stood in the kitchen of a house that wasn't hers—hadn't been anyone's for three years now—and watched the dark liquid drip into a chipped mug. Outside, vines crawled up the sides of skyscrapers. A deer grazed in what used to be Times Square. The planet was healing, they would have said, back when there was a "they."
By Parsley Rose 3 months ago in Fiction
🌧️The Night It Finally Rained. AI-Generated.
She stood by the window, arms folded, as the sun dipped behind the grey horizon. Fifty-six evenings had passed without a single drop of rain. Fifty-six evenings since Rayan had walked out of her life—quietly, without an explanation, without a goodbye. The world felt thirsty, and so did she.
By Yaseen khan3 months ago in Fiction
Thermometer. Top Story - October 2025.
Three sharp pings alerted Emily that the oven had completed its preheating cycle. Donning two protective potholders, she inserted a large tray of muenster cheese-topped chicken breasts and an equally large tray of thoroughly seasoned Brussels sprouts. Two blood orange Le Creuset pots began to bubble on the stovetop, prompting the sous chef to slightly turn down the heat. With her left hand, Emily thoroughly folded the truffle-buttered mashed potatoes with a heart-shaped wooden spoon while her right hand unraveled the frozen slab of spinach with a three-pronged silver fork.
By Kale Sinclair3 months ago in Fiction
