Family
Time Slip
The glow began as a tremor. Not in the walls, but in the air itself—an amber breathing, the way sunlight sometimes catches dust motes and holds them still, as if the world is pausing to think. The protagonist—Aria, though the house had always whispered her name like it knew her before she knew herself—stood in the narrow hallway of her grandmother’s old home. The wallpaper was faded with vines and little painted birds, the kind you only notice when the light arrives at a certain angle.
By LUNA EDITHabout a month ago in Poets
The Poet Who Spoke to Shadows
M Mehran In a city that never slept, there was a street that seemed invisible unless you were looking for it. The locals called it Whisper Lane, a narrow cobblestone alley lined with shuttered shops and flickering lanterns. At the very end, hidden behind a curtain of ivy, was a small bookstore and café called Ink & Echoes. People said it was a place where poets went to lose themselves—and sometimes, to find something entirely unexpected.
By Muhammad Mehranabout a month ago in Poets
