Adventure
Stop Trying to Please Everyone at Work
The Problem with Being ‘Too Nice’ Many people believe that being nice at work will automatically lead to better relationships, smoother teamwork, and more opportunities. While kindness is essential, being overly agreeable can backfire. Psychologists warn that constantly putting others’ needs above your own can make you appear insincere, undermine your authority, and even create burnout.
By Lucy watsonabout a year ago in Chapters
Wisdom from Around the World 37 Timeless Proverbs That Touch the Heart
Wisdom from Around the World – 37 Timeless Proverbs That Touch the Heart" Throughout history, every culture has carried the torch of wisdom — passing it from one generation to the next, not through books alone, but through short, powerful proverbs.
By Wings of Time about a year ago in Chapters
Out of the Flames
Oda dashed across the bridge to the mansion steps. The great double doors of the house were thrown wide, one hanging precariously from twisted hinges. She turned to see Ides following her, and Guy being backed into a side-street skirmish on the far side of the bridge.
By M. A. Mehan about a year ago in Chapters
Mike Savage’s Favourite Spots in New Canaan
New Canaan, Connecticut, is more than just a picturesque town — it’s a vibrant community where history blends seamlessly with modern charm. For Michael Savage, a prominent figure known for his passion for collecting and cultivating culture, New Canaan is home. His favourite spots around town highlight the unique character of this place, from hidden gems to renowned landmarks.
By Mike Savage New Canaanabout a year ago in Chapters
THE DAY OF FREEDOM
The morning arrived with a freshness that felt different from every other day of the year. The streets were lined with colorful flags, fluttering gently in the wind, each one telling a silent story of pride and unity. Everywhere the eye could see, decorations hung from rooftops, balconies, and trees, as if the entire place had dressed itself to celebrate something far greater than any single person.It was a day that carried meaning in every heartbeat — a day not just marked on the calendar, but etched deep in the soul of a people. This was the day freedom was celebrated.The air was filled with the distant echo of songs — songs of hope, sacrifice, and dreams fulfilled. Voices hummed along, some loud and joyful, others soft and thoughtful, as though remembering the long road that had led to this moment. It was not just a celebration of the present, but a tribute to the past — to those who had dreamed of a life without chains, who had worked, struggled, and endured so that the generations to come could breathe the air of independence.Markets were alive with the vibrant colors of banners and flags, children rushed about with painted faces, and every corner of the city carried the same rhythm of excitement. Yet, beneath the laughter and the music, there was a silent respect, an unspoken reminder that freedom had not been handed over easily — it had been earned, often at great cost.Schools, community halls, and open grounds became centers of gathering. Speeches were delivered, not with empty words, but with the weight of history behind them. People listened with open hearts as they were reminded of the sacrifices made — of the hardships endured so that today could be lived without fear. There was a shared understanding that independence was not just the absence of control by another; it was the right to choose, to dream, to speak, to live freely.Throughout the day, the celebrations continued. Streets were filled with parades — a lively stream of colors, dances, and music that moved like a river of joy. Traditional attire mixed with modern styles, blending the past and the present into one unified celebration. Flags waved high above heads, hands reached out in unity, and the air was thick with the spirit of togetherness.As the sun began its slow descent, the golden light washed over the streets, making the flags glow brighter against the evening sky. People prepared for the final event of the day — the lighting of the night. As the first firework burst into the sky, a collective cheer rose from the crowd. Soon, the darkness was filled with bright explosions of color — reds, greens, golds, and blues — each one a reminder that freedom, like those lights, must be cherished before it fades.Some stood silently, watching the fireworks with reflective eyes. They knew that independence was not something to be taken for granted. It was not simply about celebration, but about responsibility — the duty to protect it, to uphold the values that had been fought for, and to ensure that it was never lost again.The night air was warm with the scent of food from street vendors and the laughter of families sharing meals together. The celebrations may have been loud, but beneath them was a calm assurance — the knowledge that this day was more than just a festival. It was a promise to the future.Independence meant different things to different people. To some, it was the right to speak without fear. To others, it was the opportunity to shape their own destiny. For many, it was simply the joy of living freely — walking on streets without restrictions, raising families in safety, and dreaming without limits.As the final fireworks faded into the sky and the crowd began to disperse, the feeling remained. It was a feeling that could not be captured entirely in words — a mixture of gratitude, pride, and hope. The day of freedom had ended for another year, but its meaning would last far longer than a single celebration.Because true independence is not celebrated only once a year. It is lived every day — in the choices people make, in the voices they raise, and in the dreams they dare to pursue. And as long as that spirit lives on, the flags will always fly high, the songs will always be sung, and the promise of freedom will never fade.
By Muneebkhanoffical about a year ago in Chapters
After The Sunset The Stars As My Witness. Content Warning.
Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and months turned into uncertainty. Perseus held his face, elbow pressed against the table. The captain and his crew drowned out his thoughts with their drunken slurred tales most of them made up trying to outshine the other sailors. Everyone shouting at the top of their lungs, all their words meshing up to what a disaster could sound like. Perseus thought he would have gotten used to this by now, but the more he was around them the more annoyed he was by them. He couldn't lash out either because he needed them to get to wherever the gorgon resided. An eye and a tooth he silently recited over and over again like saying it would manifest whatever his clue was. Gently tagging on his inner lip with his teeth he stared at the wooden mouldy fungi-infested ceiling. He drew up images like he would the stars. An eye and a tooth he continued to recite. A cyclope maybe… he thought while picturing a friendly cyclope from the last time he had encountered one as a child. It did have an eye but did it have one tooth? He asked, squinting his eyes tightly as if that would make him travel faster through the memory or at least make it a bit clearer. “Perseus!” One of the crew members, Peggon, aggressively nudged, abruptly interrupting his journey through his mind. Everything he said after calling Perseus was a chain of slurred words that almost sounded like a different language. Every time Peggon paused to breathe Perseus would nod to appear attentive, patiently waiting for Peggon to find a new victim to drown in his words. He looked past Peggon, hoping to find something to distract him as he pretended. His eyes locked with young men who had already been watching him. “Not him again” he whispered under his breath “Peggon I hate to interrupt, but I have to go outside for a bit” Peggon laughed saying something inaudible as he made space for Perseus to move. Outside he anxiously yet patiently waited for the young man to follow him, which the young man did shortly. “What now,” Perseus asked not even trying to hide how annoyed he was, that had been the 8th time that day Hermes had appeared out of nowhere disguised as someone else. “For the same reason I have been paying you a visit,” Hermes said, eyeing Perseus’ “I have the feeling you are not taking good care of my majestic sandal,” Hermes sighed aggressively a white cloud of breath escaped into the cold night. “Like all the 8 times you visited today alone and the millions of times you have shown up, I have not worn the sandals yet” “Well I have to see for myself, I don’t trust demi-gods,” He said grabbing the bag “Not god enough to be amongst gods not human enough to exist here” He carelessly searched the bag cutting himself with the sword that was hidden in the bag “Ouch, Ouch, Ouch” He tried to suppress the intensity of the pain, but the way he winced, threw the bag and shook gave it away. Perseus pretended not to notice what happened but the smirk on his face that tried to conceal his laughter shimmered in the dark. Hermes snapped at the site of this “You see, you can't even be responsible enough to wrap up such a sharp object,” Perseus responded with suppressed chuckles that escaped through his nose. Hermes ignored him as he emptied the bag. He held his Sandals inspecting them with the aim to find damage. “Find anything?” Perseus asked unconcerned. “Uh-huh,” Hermes jolted after looking into the bag again. “I was hoping you would show concern,” Hermes sarcastically said, showing Perseus a feather barb pinched between his thumb and index. Perseus squinted his eyes trying to figure out what he was supposed to be seeing. Hermes wiggled his wrist closer to Perseus, and there it was, thinner than a strand of hair. “Well how do I avoid this next time,” he sarcastically shrugged. “I don't know, Perseus. Maybe a fortune teller or better yet wrap the sword” Hermes ripped a part of his clothing to wrap the sword “A fortune teller,” Perseus responded “Well no. The option you were supposed to pick was to ‘wrap the sword’,” He wrapped the sword and packed everything away. “No, I meant I could use a fortune teller,” Hermes looked at Perseus worried “I don't think they could help” “Why not,” “Because you are already being assisted by the divine,” Hermes tilted his head “Can you assist me?” “On a condition,” He smiled “I keep the sandals and return them during your emergencies” “And how to summon you when I'm in an emergency” “Like so…” he sat on a barrel, rubbed his hands back and forth 4 times, then clicked his fingers twice, then joined his hands with a clap in front of his chest as though praying. “No” Perseus frowned “I don't have time for games” he dismissed “Then you really don't need my assistance,” He walked into the darkness “You know I can find them myself,” He yelled, He could but it would take longer without Hermes’ help. “Fine,” he said, causing Hermes to stop and turn to face him, “I agree,” he said gently chewing his inner cheeks. Hermes slightly squinted his eyes to study the eagerness as he approached Perseus. “As long Athena agrees with it,” he said with a devilish smirk “14 days is all I'm offering” Hermes didn't look offended but a little impressed and annoyed “Fine, Close to us right now are two Zolinae and Hovam. Zolinae would be the best option, a little playful, she could be a little distraction,” He sheepishly smiled “The best I’ve set eyes on, she travels a lot to help and assist people. Let me take you to her,” He begins to lead the way. “And Hovam?” Perseus curiously asked. “The devil,” he said with a disgruntled tone and posture “Working with him is like signing a deal with the devil, and from what I’ve seen he doesn’t have the gift but plays the role so perfectly, I’m almost impressed” “I want Hovam, lead me to him,” Perseus nodded. Hermes didn't argue but the discomfort on his face with Perseus’ decision spoke louder than his silence. “Here we are,” Hermes pointed at the only other house lit in the dark street. “And Cyclops don't have one tooth,” He softly smiled, rolling his eyes before leaving. Perseus watched as Hermes blended into the darkness. Perseus walked towards the house, the door was slightly opened, but before he could knock on the door, a woman busted gently through the doorway with a child. When she saw Perseus she nodded with a faint smile to acknowledge his presence, then walked off into the night leaving the door open. A man followed and stood by the entrance. “How can I help you?” The man asked calmly with a hint of defensiveness. “Homav, I'm here in search of him” Perseus responded, trying not to look or sound like a threat. “He isn’t available till the morning,” The man said, exiting the house to lock up. “I can’t wait till the morning, it is an emergency,” he politely protested, fighting the urge to beg. “It’s late,” he dismissed and walked away. “I am Persues the son of Zeus,” He introduced himself as he followed the man. The man continued striding on. Did he not know who Zeus was? Perseus wondered to himself. Medusa. His mind pounced. “I’m on a quest…” the man paced faster as if trying to run. “To retrieve the head of the mortal gorgon…” the man’s pace began to slow down “Medusa” Perseus said, the man instantly halted in his tracks. Wide eyed, he stared Perseus up and down before he strolled back into the house. Perseus stood outside the door for a short while that felt like aeon. “Hovam is ready to see you” he bowed his head signalling his hand towards the dark passage that had a light peeking from underneath the door. Perseus walked carefully towards the door as the man followed behind. When he got to the door he turned to the man behind him waiting for a signal from his silhouette, the man nodded. Perseus slid the door meeting eyes with a round older man, well dressed and at ease as though he had been anticipating this meeting. On the table he sat behind were a deck of tarot cards, crystal balls that look like enormous pearls dancing with different waves of color within and bowls displayed behind him filled with jewels and crystals. “Welcome,” Hovam signalled to the brittle looking chair in front of him.Gently he sat as he nodded acknowledgingly. “I hear you are the son of Zeus insearch of the gorgon” “Yes,” Perseus responded. “What’s in it for me?” Hovam raised an eye brow “I’m going to pay your services” Hovam scratched his chin looking at the man who brought Perseus, he stood still behind like a statue. “Give me its head when you’ve retrieved it” He said still looking at the man “I have already promised its head to another,” “That's all I need from you, son of Zeus,” “And what if it doesnt exist?” “It does,” the man behind Perseus argued “And have you seen it” Perseus turned to face him “Well…,” he stopped to see if Hovam approved. “Let’s say it doesn’t exist,” Hovam scratched underneath his chin “What did you have in mind,” he responded eyebrows furrowed still facing the man who was avoiding eye contact. “Well…” Hovam cleared his throat “Have you heard of a monoceros, a stallion with a majestic horn in the center of its head” Perseus had encountered it before but was uncomfortable about recounting that encounter. He simply shook his head, faking curiosity and ignorance. “Bring its horn to me instead even if the gorgon exists since the head has been promised to another,” “You have a deal” Perseus looked at the tarot cards “Now for where I can find the gorgon” “Hunclox,” he signalled to the man behind Perseus “Medusa is hidden by some supernatural being. Neither my tarot cards nor my crystal ball can give you the answer you so desire,” Impatience slowly brewed within Perseus, fighting the urge to pounce onto the other side of the table. “So you don’t know where it is?” he clenched his jaw. “no one does,” Hovam shuffled his deck of tarot. “But Hunclox has met a woman who has met the gorgon and survived it,” placing his cards back on the table “He will go on this quest with you,” “And maybe you show me the head when you return,” He smirks. Perseus was almost there. As for his mother, Danae, she had overstayed her visit the moment she mentioned Perseus. Testing her father’s patience every day she tried to convince him the prophecy was a hoax. “Your return was meant to be exciting but you truly havent lost your touch with raining on a good day,” King Acrisius dismissed what Danae had said. “What would his motive be to kill you, father? You're his grandfather, his family?” Danae continued inquisitively. “Well its better we don't find out,” Danae stared at her mother hoping she would defend Perseus but Queen Eurydice focused on her meal and paid no attention to the conversation like the many times Danae’s had brought it up since she arrived months ago. “He is a respectful, smart, brave man and has a big kind heart like no other,” Danae said pridefully. “And?” The King shrugged unimpressed. “Father, if you must know,” Danae paused, preparing herself to dish out Perseus’ whereabouts. “He is on a quest as we speak, a very dangerous quest…” Saying this made her hope Perseus would succeed “To behead the gorgon,” Instantly the queen pulled her eyes away from her food shooting a glare at her Daughter and then her husband who seemed to have lost his speech all of a sudden. “Medusa?” Her mother asked, concerned. Danae nodded contently. “Alone?”Eurydice asked. “Yes,” Danae nodded. “Danae!” Her mother snapped “Armies that have gone after the gorgon have never returned, and you let him go alone,” Eurydice’s concern turned into disappointment “He could die out th…” “Mama…” Danae tried to intercept “For someone who has been preaching love for your son. You sure have a funny way of showing it” Eurydice interrupted. “Mama…” She caught her breath, “Perseus has never failed, He shall find the gorgon and behead it…Imagine the respect and power that will surround your kingdom. The kingdoms surrounding us will be singing praises. You need to welcome him to Argos so everyone knows who he is to the King,” She gently placed her hand on her father’s hand. She was beginning to sound like Perseus. “And he will bring her head,” He finally broke from his trance. Danae nodded with a smile of certainty. The King smiled seemingly impressed, contemplating welcoming his grandson back into the Kingdom, then suddenly he heard the words from the oracle years ago echoing the prophecy in his mind, His face instantly emulated disgust, annoyance and anger. “And what if he uses the gorgon’s head to kill me?” The king lifted himself from the table charging towards the exit. “You don't understand,” Danae cried “My son is in exile over a prophecy he doesn't even know about and unlike you I care about my child,” The King didn't respond or wait to hear what she had to say.
By Ropafadzo Thokozani Zinyuke (Fadzo) about a year ago in Chapters
Karachi Chronicles Chapter 1
Years ago, returning from Europe, I was stopping over in Dubai airport. Exploring the cavernous terminal, I found myself needlessly gliding along a travelator, when something abruptly commanded my attention. Drifting across my field of vision, like a cloud blocking the sun in an otherwise vacant sky, was a group of guys draped in flowing white robes. Clad in black and sporting a large, messy afro, I was the shade behind the cloud. On the outside, we shared no resemblance.
By S. J. Leahyabout a year ago in Chapters
Leave the Light On
**Title:** *Leave the Light On* **Subtitle:** *A Beacon Through the Storm, Binding Past and Present* By Haroon The old lighthouse, which was present on Raven’s Cliff, had not been lit for decades. Its broken lens was unlit against the stormy Maine sky. But tonight, as lightning crackled and surf pounded the cliffs, Noora stood beneath it. She was holding a rusty key she had found in her grandfather’s loft. The attached note had mysterious words: *"Keep the light on, Nora. He will come back."* At the young age of 28, she had no belief in spirits or vows, but her grandmother’s handwriting—trembling and anxious—had drawn her here, to this ignored and lost tower, on the anniversary of her grandfather’s disappearance. The time was 9:17 when Nora unlocked the iron door, which resisted years of neglect. Inside, the air smelled of salt and old wood. The light from her flashlight danced on the staircase, each step creaking under her weight. The note said to light the lamp by midnight and keep it burning till dawn—a request without any explanation. Nora didn’t have much connection with emotions, but the idea of her grandfather—a man about whom she didn’t remember anything except that he had been lost to the sea when she was five—felt important to her. At the top, the keeper’s room was frozen in time. There were a shadowy logbook, a broken old oil lantern, and a window that showed the upward movement of the sea. Her phone had no service, and the storm drowned out her thoughts. She found matches—with worn heads but usable—in a tin box. The lantern was lit at 10:03, providing a fragile and weak flame that flickered as she sat on the floor, holding the note on her lap and waiting. By 11:00, the storm became louder. The rain pounded the glass, and the blowing wind resembled whispers calling her name. Nora turned through the pages of the logbook—which had become yellow and whose color had faded. The last entry was on the 4th of July, 1997. It was from her grandfather: *"A storm is coming. She says to keep the light on. I trust her."* Nora’s heartbeat became faster. Her grandmother had not told her about this place but only that her grandfather’s ship had been destroyed in a storm and he had been lost to the sea. Was the light she had lit what it meant? A clue, a ray of shine? At 11:45, a sound of a crash came from below. But it was not the sound of the storm—it was something similar to the sound of footsteps on rocks. Nora froze. She called, “Hello?” but her voice was destroyed by the storm. No answer came, but the stairs creaked. She pointed her flashlight to the doorway. A shadow showed motion—a tall but unclear shadow. Her heart beat faster. “Who is there?” The shadow moved into the light. His face was worn, but his bright blue eyes—the same as hers—were familiar. He called her name. His voice was heavy and rough. She moved backward, and the logbook fell down. She said, “You… you can’t be here.” He uttered, *“I followed the light. She said that you would come.”* He was wearing a wet fisherman’s coat. His hands were shaking as they reached for her. Nora’s thoughts whirled. Her grandfather, Elias, who had died 23 years ago, was standing before her—or something like him. He spoke fast, words coming out of his mouth like waves. He said that he had been stuck in a rift—a rip in reality torn open by the beam of the lighthouse or a storm. Time had not succeeded in touching him. He said, *“Your grandmother knew. She saw it once when we were young. She said that the light could bring me back if someone waited.”* Nora’s mind was in competition between doubt and the impossible. She asked, “Why now? Why me?” Her grandfather’s eyes became mild, and he said, *“Because you were the only one who came.”* Midnight came and went. The lantern was burning. He shared parts of his story with her: an endless ocean, murmurs in a mist, flashes where he had nearly crossed over into the world but not in reality. The light was his tether, and the trust of his grandmother was his path. Nora listened to him and was caught between dread and faith. Was what she was experiencing real? Or tricks played by the storm? By 3:00, the storm softened and quieted, but he started fading. His shadow flickered like that of the lantern’s lamp. Nora realized and whispered to him, *“You can’t stay.”* She moved her head. Elias said, *“The light only keeps the door open for one night. I just wanted to see you, to know she was right.”* As dawn approached and the sky turned white, Elias came closer to her. He put a small and cold compass into her palm and whispered, *“Keep it. It will guide you, just as it guided me.”* His voice thinned. At 5:42, when the first ray of shine spread across the sky, he was gone. The lamp guttered out. Nora came down the stairs. The compass felt heavy in her pocket. The storm had ended, leaving silence and the tang of salt. She was not sure whether she had seen a spirit, a memory, or something mysteriously stranger, but the note’s words clung: *"He will return."* She locked the lighthouse door, leaving the light off, but the needle of the compass was not turned to north—it was pointing to something else entirely.
By Muhammad Haroonabout a year ago in Chapters
Luna the Lopsided Lion
In the heart of Sunspot Savannah, where golden grass swayed with the wind and birds sang sweet songs at sunrise, lived a young lion cub named Luna. But Luna didn’t look like the other lions in her pride. Her left ear flopped down, her right one stood up straight. Her tail curled in a funny spiral, and her mane grew in all directions like a wild bush.
By Ahmad shahabout a year ago in Chapters
The Echoes of Venice. AI-Generated.
The city of Venice was a beautiful, watery labyrinth, a place of silent canals and echoing alleyways, but for Sofia, it felt like a gilded cage. She had come here after her mother’s sudden death, a tragic accident in the city they had once called home. The inheritance had brought her to this ancient apartment overlooking the Grand Canal, a place where the light danced on the water and the sounds of life—gondoliers' songs, the chatter of tourists—seemed to mock the stillness in her heart. She spent her days cloistered in the small rooms, the velvet curtains drawn, the city a distant, beautiful dream she couldn't reach.
By rawan nabilabout a year ago in Chapters
