Classical

Whispers Beneath the Mango Trees
The First Light of Mango Grove In the gentle warmth of dawn, the first light of the sun crept across the horizon, spilling gold over the lush, dew-drenched fields. The scent of mango blossoms floated on the morning breeze, soft and sweet, stirring the peaceful landscape awake. It was the time when even the birds hesitated to chirp, reverent of the stillness that hovered over the land like a sacred prayer.
By Mukhtiar Ahmadabout a year ago in Fiction
A morning of misunderstanding
It was morning. A kind of orange sun came through the Thai glass of the balcony and made the room sparkle. Shan's room was already filled with orange bedsheets, curtains and carpets. As soon as he woke up, his mood was spoiled. He forgot to draw the curtains of the window last night—such a beautiful sleep was ruined
By Ishrat Jahan about a year ago in Fiction
Siren's Song
Fifth November, the year of our lord eighteen hundred and eleven Meredith, My Siren, I hear your call all the way from London.
By Matthew J. Frommabout a year ago in Fiction
Echoes of the Unsent
Echoes of the Unsent “Every message you delete still gets delivered—just not to the person you think.” Layla stared at the message on her screen.
By FAIZAN AFRIDIabout a year ago in Fiction
A Test of Truth: A Short Story About Integrity
The Surprise That Changed Everything It was a misty Friday morning in Greenhill Town. The school bell had just rung, and class 7B at Oakridge School was buzzing with chatter and sleepy yawns. But something unusual was about to happen—something that would test more than just academic skills.
By Ahmad Malikabout a year ago in Fiction
Self Dignity
The Mirror Never Lies In the bustling heart of Mumbai lived Meera, a 38-year-old housemaid who moved silently through the halls of a wealthy family’s apartment. Her hands bore callouses from years of hard work, but her eyes held a quiet dignity that no amount of scrubbing could wash away.
By Aima Charleabout a year ago in Fiction
A Devil with a Smile
There’s something irresistibly dangerous about charm. The kind that slides through closed doors, disarms suspicion, and dances between mischief and mastery. A Devil with a Smile: Revisited isn’t just a collection of tales — it’s a celebration of the audacious, the clever, and the wickedly charismatic.
By Habibullah khan about a year ago in Fiction
King of Envy
In the ancient city of Halemar—where cobbled streets shimmered with the dust of old gold, and grand halls echoed with the laughter of false kings—there lived a man named Elion. Not a peasant, not quite a noble, but someone in between. A scholar by training, a dreamer by soul, Elion was known for two things: his intellect, and his ceaseless desire to be someone else.
By Nomiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Shepherd’s Lantern
The Shepherd’s LanternIn the shadow of the Judean hills, where the sun dipped low and painted the sky with hues of amber and crimson, there lived a young shepherd named Eliam. His village, Bethar, was a cluster of stone houses nestled between olive groves and rocky slopes, a place where the people clung to the old ways, their lives shaped by the rhythms of the seasons and the words of the sacred scrolls. Eliam was no ordinary shepherd. Though his hands were calloused from guiding his flock and his tunic worn from years of toil, his heart burned with questions—questions about the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, whose name was whispered in awe during the village’s gatherings.Eliam’s father, Amos, had been a scribe before age and infirmity stole his strength. From him, Eliam learned the stories of creation, the flood, and the covenant. But one tale stirred him above all: the promise of a light that would guide the lost, a savior who would mend the brokenness of the world. Eliam longed to understand this promise, to see it with his own eyes. Yet, in Bethar, life was hard, and hope often felt like a distant star—beautiful but unreachable.One evening, as Eliam led his flock back from the high pastures, a strange wind stirred the air. It was not the cool breeze of dusk but a warm, pulsing gust that seemed to carry a voice, faint yet clear. “Eliam,” it called, “take your lantern and follow.” Startled, he looked around, but saw only the silhouettes of his sheep against the fading light. His lantern, a simple clay vessel with a wick fed by olive oil, hung from his staff. It was unlit, for he knew the paths well enough to walk them in darkness. Yet the voice persisted, urgent and undeniable.Trembling, Eliam kindled the lantern. Its flame flickered to life, casting a golden glow that seemed brighter than usual, as if infused with a strange vitality. The light stretched beyond the rocky path, illuminating a trail he had never seen before—a narrow track winding into the wilderness. His heart pounded. Should he leave his flock? Should he ignore the voice? But something within him, a spark of faith or perhaps desperation, urged him forward. He tethered his sheep near a spring and set out, the lantern’s glow his only guide.The path led him through valleys where shadows clung like damp cloth and over ridges where the stars seemed close enough to touch. Hours passed, or perhaps days—time seemed to blur under the lantern’s steady light. At last, he came to a cave, its mouth yawning like the jaws of a great beast. The voice spoke again: “Enter, Eliam, and see.” Clutching his lantern, he stepped inside.The cave was vast, its walls glittering with veins of crystal that caught the lantern’s light and sent it dancing in a thousand directions. At the center stood a man, robed in white, his face radiant yet kind, like a father gazing upon a beloved son. “Eliam,” the man said, “you have sought the light, and it has led you here. But the light is not yours alone. It is for all who wander in darkness.”Eliam’s voice trembled. “Who are you, my lord? And why have you called me, a mere shepherd?”The man smiled. “I am a messenger of the Most High. You were called because your heart is open, though it is burdened with doubt. The world is heavy with sorrow, and many have forgotten the promise. You will carry this light back to them.”Eliam looked at his lantern, its flame still burning despite the long journey. “This light?” he asked. “It is but oil and wick. How can it guide anyone?”The messenger placed a hand on Eliam’s shoulder. “The light is not in the lantern, but in you. The oil is your faith, the wick your deeds, and the flame the love you bear for others. Carry it boldly, and it will not fail.”The cave began to fade, the crystals dissolving into mist, and Eliam found himself standing once more in the hills above Bethar. The lantern still burned, its light unchanged. But now, he felt different—stronger, as if a fire had kindled within him. He returned to his village, expecting to find it as he had left it: weary, divided, clinging to survival. Instead, he saw it anew. The people, though poor, were his kin; their struggles, his own. He began to share the light, not with grand speeches but with small acts—tending to a sick child, sharing his meager bread, listening to the sorrows of the elderly.Word of Eliam’s kindness spread. Villagers who once quarreled began to gather, drawn by the warmth of his presence. They spoke of the old stories, of the promise, and their hope rekindled. One night, as they sat beneath the stars, an old woman named Miriam took Eliam’s hand. “You have brought us light, young shepherd,” she said. “Not the kind that blinds, but the kind that shows the way.”Eliam thought of the cave, the messenger, and the voice. He realized the light was not his to keep but to give. Years passed, and Bethar flourished—not in wealth, but in unity and love. Eliam grew old, his hair silvered, but his lantern never dimmed. When he died, the village mourned, yet they did not despair. For the light he carried had taken root in their hearts, passed from one to another like a flame shared among torches.And so, the story of Eliam, the shepherd with the lantern, became a tale told across generations, a reminder that the light of faith, kindled by love, could guide even the humblest soul to change the world.
By Enayatabout a year ago in Fiction
LOVE n FICTION
"In the Blue Sky of New York" New York City—a city of glittering lights, fast-moving traffic, and magical dreams. Ariba, a girl from Dhaka, set foot in this city. She came to New York University to pursue a master's degree in technology. She left behind her quiet neighborhood, her mother's face, and the image of her father sitting with a cup of tea in his hand. However, New York is not just about studying for Ariba. It is the beginning of living for herself. Her life in Dhaka was confined to the rules of a conservative family. But here, it was as if she could breathe on her own for the first time.
By sagorbariabout a year ago in Fiction
A Love Story
It will be one day for some, one night for some, no one will like it more—I will never go away with this bad nature of mine, Shan was humming to himself standing by the window. Next to him, his roommates—Riyaz, Surya, and Naushad—were drifting off into the intoxication of alcohol. The night before the exam, but no one was tense. Naushad had finished the entire bottle by himself
By Ishrat Jahan about a year ago in Fiction
Humla Limi Valley Trek: Yaks, Yak Cheese, and the Art of Surviving Your Own Stupidity
Let’s get this straight: if the Gokyo Lakes were a chilly slap of reality, the Humla Limi Valley Trek is like getting dunked into a bucket of ice water while someone yells, “This is character-building!” My accomplice? Anika, a friend who claims she’s “into cultural immersion” but is really just a history nerd with a knack for getting lost. Together, we ventured into Nepal’s far northwest—a place so remote, even Google Maps shrugs.
By michal lendenabout a year ago in Fiction