Classical

Delayed Arrival
After Beelzebub and Alexa had their fun with Stalin and St.Ronnie, Beelzebub said, "I'm starting to get bored with this game. I mean, how many rounds can we have with the same set of dictators and nasty humans? I'd like someone new. What are our freshest arrivals?"
By Lana V Lynx3 months ago in Fiction
The Spirit Of Temptation
Introduction This is a tale inspired by “Undine Hovering on the Water” by George Heywood Sumner, shared by The Enchanted Booklet on Facebook:
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 3 months ago in Fiction
The Message That Was Never Meant to Be Seen
At exactly 2:11 AM, Aisha’s phone buzzed. She wasn’t supposed to be awake. Her room was dark, silent, and heavy with the kind of quiet that comes only after midnight. But something pulled her from sleep—a feeling she couldn’t explain.
By Behind the Curtain3 months ago in Fiction
Matter and Energy
Most churches have had their share of easing life’s journeys. From the time an individual is introduced into the community, accepts its rules and rites, marriage, confession and death. Often, we remember when the weather reflects the emotions being experienced. Tears pour down as it rains at a funeral or a moment of hope appears as light streams through the window during a wedding service. Churches are often built to remove or extol the grandeur of the unknown supreme presence(s).
By Katherine D. Graham3 months ago in Fiction
The Faces we Trust, the Masks we Miss!
They smile from a distance, applaud in public, and quietly pull the strings behind the curtain. They never fight their own battles, instead they send others to carry their weight, spread the whispers, create the conflicts, and bear the consequences. They remain untouched, watching the chaos unfold as if they were innocent spectators, showing their pride, pretending the one with golden heart.
By Sonia Biswas3 months ago in Fiction
The Last Empty Chair
The village café had only six tables. By any reasonable standard, nothing remarkable had ever happened there. No famous visitor had stopped for coffee. No dramatic declaration of love had echoed beneath its yellowed ceiling. No history book would ever mention the place.
By Alain SUPPINI4 months ago in Fiction
Essentially a tool
“You cannot hope to be successful as a writer without one of these, nowadays.” I stared at the little device with a disproportionate amount of diffidence. It didn’t look like much – a black box with rounded edges, a black screen, a few lines to mark where the buttons were. Just the latest slim-looking gadget funded by some tech billionaire. It reminded me of the early iPods, which was only indicative of how out-of-touch with modern trends I was getting.
By M.4 months ago in Fiction
His Father Left Him a Shipyard — and a Fox Named Voss
Henry Hudson first held the brass seal at his father Robert's funeral. Carved on its underside was a three-masted barque—the ship that had brought the Hudsons their first load of timber out of Rotterdam a hundred and twenty years ago. The seal was cold, heavy as an unloaded gun. He turned it over in his palm, looked at it, then set it back down on the coffin lid. His mother wept beside him, but all he could hear was a voice inside his own skull: This thing does not belong in my hand.
By Jin4 months ago in Fiction
Water Play
“Feeling better, your majesty?” Pan rose and bowed to me. “Much, although that second potion was as unpleasant as the first was delicious.”
By Harper Lewis 4 months ago in Fiction
Nostradamus Predictions for 2026.
Nostradamus Predictions for 2026 Nostradamus remains one of the most enduring names in prophecy. Born Michel de Nostredame in sixteenth-century France, he worked as a physician, astrologer, and writer, a man who turned observation into prediction. His book Les Prophéties has travelled through centuries, its cryptic verses sparking argument and awe in equal measure. Some see his work as poetic philosophy, others as proof that the future leaves shadows long before it arrives. Whatever the truth, his name still rises whenever the world trembles.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 4 months ago in Fiction
One More Turn
The steel valve fought Leonid’s trembling fingers. Everything tasted metallic, and instinctively, Leonid knew the shaking in his legs was unaffiliated with the temperature of the now waist-deep waste. The implication sat like graphite in his throat.
By Matthew J. Fromm4 months ago in Fiction
The Story Platform That Just Spent $47M on a Single IP—And Why No One’s Talking About the Real Bet
The day Senator Vincent Blake announced his run for president, he pulled up to the rally in a rust-flecked Ford pickup. He stepped onto the corroded bumper, leaned into the microphone, and said, “I’m not showing you people, a single page of my tax returns.”
By Jin4 months ago in Fiction