Fiction
Astra Nova
Leila Hassan stood on the edge of her city, where the ocean used to meet the shore. Now, only devastation remained—homes swallowed by water, lives lost to the rising tide. She remembered playing on this beach as a child, the scent of salt air mingling with her mother’s laughter. But that was before the storms, before the seas began to rise faster than anyone had predicted.
By Juste Juozapaityte2 years ago in BookClub
"Echoes of Broken Harmony"
In a realm where thoughts took physical form, there existed a grand orchestra hall. Its walls were made of memories, its floor paved with shared experiences. At its center stood four ornate music stands, each bearing a different instrument: a violin, a flute, a cello, and a trumpet. These instruments were not mere objects, but living entities, siblings born from the same cosmic melody.
By Hlengiwe Deborah Ngwenya2 years ago in BookClub
Whispers of the Moonlight
Larkspur saw the arrival of spring, which gave the village fresh vitality and color. The Moonlit Grove's blossoms were in full bloom, reflecting the joy and expectation that grew inside Emily and Liam as their wedding day drew near.
By md tawhidul islam2 years ago in BookClub
Whispers of the Moonlight
Months passed since Emily and Liam first met in the Moonlit Grove, and their love flourished like the changing seasons. The village of Larkspur had become a backdrop for their romance, with its cobblestone streets and quaint charm enhancing their shared moments. Emily's art was now infused with the magic of their love, capturing the essence of their story in each brushstroke. One crisp winter evening, Liam suggested they take a trip to a nearby lake that was known for its breathtaking winter views. Emily eagerly agreed, excited for a new adventure with Liam. They packed a picnic and set off, their hearts warm despite the chill in the air.
By md tawhidul islam2 years ago in BookClub
Whispers of the Moonlight
There was a story about the Moonlit Grove in the charming village of Larkspur, which is tucked away amid old forests and rolling hills. It was a quiet clearing where people believed the moon's light would reveal secrets about fate and love. Years had passed since anyone had visited the grove, and the story had mostly become a sweet proverb. Bright-eyed Emily Carter, an artist who had recently relocated to Larkspur in search of inspiration, was enthralled with the legend after hearing it. The concept of a location where magic and reality merged appealed to her. Emily walked out one beautiful fall evening with a hope-filled heart and her sketchbook, determined to explore the grove.
By md tawhidul islam2 years ago in BookClub
Ramanichandran Novels Online Reading. AI-Generated.
Discover Ramanichandran Novels Online: An Immersive Reading Experience Ramanichandran, a renowned name in contemporary literature, has captivated readers with her enchanting storytelling and compelling narratives.
By Novelstamil.com2 years ago in BookClub
BY ROPE OR BY FEAR
A lot that comes with life, a lot that comes with running from ourselves. I have been running from myself, wanting to leave, wanting the best, wanting to move. But then they said to me, "Shall a man run from himself?" I looked up and said to them, "It's a myth." And then, with a smile, they said, "You can't run from yourself." I shook my head and said, "How can't I run from myself to save myself from myself?" Then they began to laugh, laughing at me. I bowed in shame and confusion. Then they said, "There's a way to save yourself with yourself, by yourself." So I raised my head, looked at their faces, and said to them, "You don't understand. I am running from myself to run from her. She haunts me each day. I can't sleep. She took my sleep. What do you think gave me insomnia? You think it came like a thief?" Then they said, "Who is she? And what does she want?" Now I laugh at them more, as I laugh at myself. Then I looked into their eyes and said, "Depression," with a faint smile. Now I asked them, "Why shouldn't I run from myself when she has taken away all that I feel, all that I know? She has taken control of myself, and I have fought to save myself from her, times I can't remember. But she keeps coming back stronger than the last. Her defense, I admire." I smiled and asked, "Do we ever get over depression?" They looked in silence, with nothing to say, exactly what I expected. Then they said, after so much silence, "Why didn't you ask for help?" Not surprised, not perplexed by their question. It's what everyone asks you when you fight her. So I said, "Sometimes the world is a circle. I looked for help by myself and within myself, fighting someone I couldn't see. I knew what she hated was my happiness. So, to take a break from her, I pretended to be happy. You know the saying, 'Fake it till you make it' so I began to fake happiness maybe eventually I would forget I was faking and she would let me go, I thought it would scare her. So, from different parties to drinking, to long conversations with people, I just never wanted to be alone. That was her favorite time to play with me when I am all by myself. So, running from things she knew to control, to numbness of my body. I smiled this time with so much pain, then I said, "you know what, it didn't help. Instead, it made me worse. It drew me closer to her. She became my comforter, somebody I needed to fight. She knew how to get me, and she did. "Then I ran for refuge in the rope I had tied unto my brown ceiling fan. I picked a chair, then right under the fan, I wrap the rope around my neck with regrets running through my mind. I was ready to lose the battle, ready to let her win. I mean, it was all she wanted. But then I thought, thought of those that loved me, thought of the pains they'd face, thought of how winning her would feel if I could just give myself another chance, another chance to win our fight. So, I let myself loose with tears in my eyes. Immediately, they asked, "why didn't you tell anyone? They could've helped?" I looked away from them to my coffee I had barely even touched, took a sip, and replied, "I knew I needed help from someone. I knew I did. I knew I couldn't fight her myself, but I feared to ask for help. I feared to reach out. I feared what people would say. I feared the stigma. I feared being a burden to those I love. But would you blame me?" I asked them, as they looked at me in pity. It's one thing I didn't like, but would you blame me? So they asked, "would you rather die by ropes and fear than seek help?" I bowed in silence, entangled by fear and confusion, so I asked, "won't the stigma kill faster than the ropes?" So, they looked at me, smiled, and said, “how would you know if you don’t try?
By Remi Arayo2 years ago in BookClub
Tie a Knot
Maybe I don't have emotions, maybe I've got emotions. But I've long gone forgotten how it feels to love and be loved. Maybe it's my past, a past that's only lasted two weeks. Yes, it is the fact that I've never been lucky with love. To think of it, he is a very good example of a failed past, I thought as I opened my WhatsApp and went straight to his status with "I am over him" playing like a loud choir in my head. Thought I was over him, I mean, so I thought. Holding my phone with tears fighting their way out of my eyes as I watch him smile and clean the icing off her lips from their red velvet wedding cake, my heart went cold. Memories of how he'd clean my lips after each scoop of ice cream came crawling in. How could he do this to me? Wait, so she's been in the picture all along? As I tap to see what's next, now this is clear, a video of him saying his vows. I mean, this is something he told me he'd never wanted in his life, to be "Married." I mean, this was why we broke up, why I left, 8 years together and in two weeks here he is doing what he said he would never do "Tie a knot" be called a "Husband".
By Remi Arayo2 years ago in BookClub
Some reflections on the conflicting reality of Dune
A few weeks ago, I finished reading Dune, a science fiction epic written by Frank Herbert in 1956. It's a read that I was really looking forward to, especially after the 2021 film adaptation, Dune, directed by Denis Villeneuve.
By Brenda Fernandes2 years ago in BookClub
