Adventure
A Stranger in Every Photograph
A Stranger in Every Photograph I found the photo album on a rainy Sunday afternoon, tucked behind boxes in the attic of my late grandmother’s house. Its leather cover was cracked and worn, the pages yellowed, and the smell of old paper and faint perfume clung to it like a ghost.
By waseem khanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Day the Colors Fled
The Day the Colors Fled It started quietly, as if the city had taken a deep breath and let all color escape. I woke to gray skies and streets stripped of vibrancy. My walls, my clothes, the garden outside—everything was a shade of ash, steel, and stone. Even the sunlight seemed pallid, like paper left too long in the sun. I rubbed my eyes, convinced it was a trick of sleep. But the world outside my window confirmed my fear.
By waseem khanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Café That Served Emotions
The Café That Served Emotions The café wasn’t on any map. Not in guidebooks, not on GPS, not even on the neon-lit streets of downtown. You stumbled upon it when you weren’t looking, through a narrow alley framed by ivy and flickering lanterns. The sign read simply: “Café Émotion”, its letters curling like smoke.
By waseem khanabout a year ago in Fiction
Letters to the Future Me
Letters to the Future Me It started on a Tuesday. I was pouring cereal at my tiny kitchen table when I noticed the envelope lying beside my bowl. Brown paper, neatly folded, with my name written in cursive I didn’t recognize. I opened it with cautious curiosity.
By waseem khanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Lighthouse's Whisper
The sky was streaked with faded gold and bruised purples as the sun's last rays disappeared beneath the horizon. The first lantern was lit by Lina, and the warm flame flickered in the refreshing salt air. Her community constantly braced itself against the wind and the waves by clinging to the cliffs like a stubborn barnacle. She tended the flame that protected sailors every night as she made her way up the twisting road to the lighthouse. Her family had held the honor for many centuries, and the villagers referred to her as the Lantern Keeper.
By Muzamil khanabout a year ago in Fiction
Bees In The Honey
He saw the slightest glint of metal from across the valley, their signal to prepare, and offered his own quick glint in the midday sun. Sheathing his knife, Ranger Captain Grambel checked his bowstring one last time. It should have been in perfect order, he’d checked it at least four times today, but on this last inspection he saw it–the smallest of burrs attached just below the string nock. It was a little thing, and he pulled it off all the same.
By Matthew J. Frommabout a year ago in Fiction
The Longest Night
8:47 PM The sun was dying slow behind the tree line, a dark cherry bruise spreading across the fading ember sky. Phoebe killed the engine of her VW van, listening to the ticks and pops of it cooling down as if it would cool her nerves along with it. The urn on the passenger seat gleamed like bone in the growing purple light.
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Fiction
Don't Check Out
Loni was staring at a web that was covered with caterpillars. Expect it wasn’t a spider web, it was a…nest? Some kind of cocoon...egg hatching web thing? Loni didn’t care, only that she wasn’t looking at caterpillars struggling for their lives, just vibing.
By Rebecca Pattonabout a year ago in Fiction
