Adventure

Red Lavender
As usual, I would take the old baseball and throw it just before the crop line. Rocky, our golden retriever, would gallop out, grab it, and do a little trot back. The ball would be covered in his spit. He’d lick my face as I scratched his favorite spot.
By K.I. McLemoreabout a year ago in Fiction
Thorne Stormfoot- The Wrath of Trantor
Thorne Stormfoot- The Wrath of Trantor The people of Baywatch had always lived in peace. Their days were spent basking beneath the golden glow of the sun, their nights lulled by the whispers of the tide. Fishing boats glided across the waters, markets bustled with fresh catches, and laughter echoed through cobbled streets.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)about a year ago in Fiction
One More Chance Before It All Repeats
Written by Joey Raines I didn’t see any light. But I wasn’t in the dark either. There was no pain. Still, I didn’t feel safe.
By Joey Rainesabout a year ago in Fiction
Leaving It Behind
As a teen, you did this once before. You traveled and left it behind, but now, at thirty, it seems somehow different, yet the same. It's the second first time that you feel so distorted. You have changed, but the feelings haven't. But you're going to find out how to do it again. You're going to leave it all behind. The fear and anxiety will not own you this time, right?
By Kristen Barenthalerabout a year ago in Fiction
The Day Humanity Died
Story: It didn’t happen suddenly. No explosions, no alien invasions, no nuclear fallout. The end began in whispers. Not of war… but of disinterest. On the morning of October 14th, 2031, the world still looked normal. People sipped their coffees, scrolled mindlessly, and posted photos of their breakfasts while the real apocalypse simmered beneath the surface—quietly, invisibly. In a small town called Elmoor, population 34,000, something strange was reported. Every child under the age of ten had stopped speaking. Not one. Not two. All. Doctors blamed it on a rare psychological contagion. The media called it “Silent Syndrome.” The first warning. Ignored. Two days later, the elderly began disappearing. No trace. No footprints. Not a body found. Just their empty clothes folded neatly on their beds. It made headlines for six hours—until a celebrity scandal pushed it down. The second warning. Dismissed. A week passed. Farmers across continents reported something bizarre: seeds wouldn’t sprout. The Earth had stopped responding. Soil tested fine. No contamination. But no life emerged. Still, the markets ran. The ads rolled. The influencers danced. The third warning. Mocked. Then came the birds. One by one, species vanished. Crows were the last to go. Their cries were deafening the night before they disappeared—as if they were trying to say something we no longer knew how to hear. Still, humanity refused to pause. Because the Wi-Fi still worked. And the sales were still on. And no one wanted to believe the world was unraveling—because that would mean they’d have to do something. In a flat on the 12th floor of a grey building, lived a man named Idris. A 38-year-old freelance web designer with no attachments. He was what the world called “neutral.” He didn’t hate. Didn’t love. Just existed. He kept his head down, did his work, and avoided anything that asked for emotion or action. When his neighbor, an old woman named Miss Clara, knocked on his door crying that her granddaughter had stopped breathing—not died, just stopped breathing—he turned up his music and waited for her to leave. That night, Idris had a dream. He stood in a city square, alone. The buildings were crumbling. The sky flickered like an old television. And voices whispered, “Where were you?” He woke up sweating. But by morning, he had forgotten. The next global trend was The Fade. People began losing their reflections. First, it was considered an online hoax. Then it happened to news anchors—live. Scientists couldn’t explain it. People without reflections still walked, talked, functioned—but seemed emptier. Hollow. A massive protest broke out in London. Thousands gathered, demanding answers. Demanding truth. By the evening, every protester vanished. Just like the elderly. Governments fell silent. There were no more press conferences. Only static on state channels. And then... the final silence arrived. People began looking at each other like strangers. Not with anger. Not even fear. Just apathy. A mother stared at her crying child and did nothing. A man walked past a collapsed stranger without blinking. A teacher watched her students vanish one by one—and kept writing on the board. Idris noticed it too. The absence of soul. People were still alive. Still breathing. But whatever made them human was… gone. He tried to scream at them. Shake them. He wept in public, hoping someone—anyone—would show some reaction. Nothing. In desperation, he ran to the old bookstore where he once saw Miss Clara buying poetry. She was there, sitting silently, staring at a blank page. “Do you remember?” he asked her. She turned, slowly. Her eyes were dim, her voice like paper. “Remember what?” He didn’t know how to answer. He returned home and turned on his screen. Every channel was blank, except one. A black screen with white letters that read: > “This is not the end of the world. This is the end of its heart.” Beneath that was a date: October 28th. Three days from now. Idris sat in his chair. Thought about everything he didn’t do. The causes he ignored. The people he ghosted. The suffering he scrolled past. All the times he could’ve spoken up—but stayed silent. And in that moment, he realized the horrifying truth: The world didn’t die because of violence. It died because of neglect. Because no one cared enough to save it. Because everyone thought someone else would. October 28th came. At exactly 7:00 PM, the skies turned white. Not bright—white. A hollow silence covered the Earth. Cities stopped. Hearts stopped. But not Idris. He stood on the same square from his dream. He looked up and screamed—not in fear, but in apology. And for a second, the sky pulsed. Just once. A flicker of mercy. Or maybe memory. No one knows if the world ended that day or just rebooted into something else. But one thing’s certain. It wasn’t a meteor. It wasn’t fire. It wasn’t war. It was indifference. That was the day humanity died.
By TrueVocalabout a year ago in Fiction
The Forgotten Door: A Story About Second Chances and Hidden Secrets
Read "The Forgotten Door," a fiction short story about second chances, hidden secrets, and forgiveness. A heartfelt tale of redemption and new beginnings perfect for fans of emotional fiction and mystery stories.
By Robert Brownabout a year ago in Fiction
The Caliphate Files
In the heart of Rome, beneath the vaulted chambers of the Vatican Library, lies a secret that could change the course of the Muslim world. The Caliphate Files isn't just a work of fiction—it’s a thrilling exploration of suppressed truths, geopolitical fear, and the resurgence of Islamic thought. This story isn’t about time travel, magic, or mythical creatures. It’s about one man, one discovery, and a buried vision powerful enough to unite or destroy nations.
By Keramatullah Wardakabout a year ago in Fiction
She Called Me ‘Mom’—But I Was Just the Nurse
It was 2 a.m. in the ER when she held my hand and said something that broke me. --- I’ve worked night shifts in the ER for over seven years. I’ve seen people come and go—some make it, some don’t. It’s not that I’m numb to it. You just learn how to build a wall between your heart and your hands. You show up, do the work, and keep going.
By Izazkhanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Letters She Never Read
Chapter 1: The Girl With the Red Umbrella It was raining — not just from the clouds above, but from somewhere inside me. I stood silently in front of the university gate, drenched in my own thoughts, when I saw her for the first time. She was holding a red umbrella, her beige kurti slightly damp from the drizzle, and her eyes… they looked like poetry waiting to be written.
By FH STORYLINE about a year ago in Fiction
The Little Library That Changed Everything
It all started on a rainy Saturday afternoon, the kind where the sky feels heavy and the whole world seems to slow down. Emma, a ten-year-old with wild curls that never quite obeyed the brush, was bored out of her mind. Her family had just moved to a small town — one of those places where everyone seemed to know each other, except her. New faces, new streets, and a new school she wasn’t sure she’d like.
By Izazkhanabout a year ago in Fiction
THE FORBIDDEN LOVE PART 1. AI-Generated.
Title: The Forbidden Love – Part 1 Genre: Mafia Romance | Dark & Intense | Forbidden Love Setting: Seoul, South Korea — Rain-slicked streets & hidden betrayals
By Lav enderabout a year ago in Fiction
The City That Dreamed Itself . AI-Generated.
In the heart of a desert where no map dared to extend its lines, there once appeared a city — not built, not planned, but dreamed. Travelers swore it had not existed the day before. Sand dunes that once rolled endlessly now bristled with towers made of mirrored stone, reflecting not just the sky above, but the desires buried deep within whoever gazed at them.
By Atifa Iqbalzadaabout a year ago in Fiction