Classical

Domino Effect
The old coffee machine in the corner of the break room at Sterling & Co. always wheezed before it dripped, a familiar, comforting sound that had punctuated countless hurried mornings. Today, it was the backdrop to Sarah’s internal battle. The quarterly reports were due in an hour, and she’d spotted a discrepancy, a small, almost negligible error in the sales figures from the North division. It was a single digit, off by a mere few thousand dollars, easily missed amidst millions.
By FlammyWritesabout a year ago in Fiction
Toad Sues God
Once upon a time, in a year no one could quite remember, the sky brought a terrible drought. The sun scorched the trees month after month, drying up rivers and lakes. All living things were left with no water to drink. The great and powerful animals who had once terrorized the forest now lay helpless, tongues hanging out, waiting for death. None of them could think of a way to save themselves or the world around them. Their strength had only ever been used to bully others, never to confront Heaven.
By Tuấn Trần Việtabout a year ago in Fiction
When Life Throws Dirt on You
There was once a farmer who owned a loyal old horse. This horse had spent years helping him like pulling carts, carrying heavy loads, and working tirelessly in the fields. It had been a faithful companion through many seasons. But now, the horse was getting old. Its strength was fading. It could no longer run fast or work as hard as it used to.
By YASAR ALIabout a year ago in Fiction
‎🐿️ The Squirrel’s Missing Acorn Heist
It all began on a crisp autumn morning when Chester the squirrel awoke to find his prized golden acorn missing. ‎ ‎This was no ordinary acorn. It wasn’t gold in color — it was actually gold. A shiny, nut-sized trinket he’d found near a human picnic site last spring. Ever since, Chester had kept it safe in his tree hollow, hidden beneath piles of real acorns. To the forest, it was his treasure. To him, it was a symbol of pride. And now it was gone. ‎ ‎His whiskers twitched. His tiny paws trembled. There were no signs of a break-in — no snapped twigs, no disturbed leaves. Just an empty hollow and a sinking feeling in his belly. ‎ ‎“This is a heist,” Chester muttered. “And I’m going to crack it wide open.”
By Shoaib Afridiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Town Where People Disappear After 30
The Town Where People Disappear After 30 Genre: Surreal Fiction / Social Commentary Theme: Aging, Societal Pressure, Invisibility
By waseem khanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Witch’s Bargain
Once upon a time… a man was sentenced to death. No one really knew what his crime was. Maybe he spoke truth in front of powerful people, or maybe he just hurt someone’s ego. Whatever it was, his life was near end and he had no hope left.
By Usamaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Dawn
At first, they called it an eclipse. A rare celestial event, nothing to fear. People stood in fields and on rooftops with their phones pointed upward, waiting for the sun to break through the darkness.
By abidnaseemabout a year ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Forgotten Sky
When the stars vanished, humanity discovered the truth hidden in the darkness. No one noticed at first. A few astronomers reported missing constellations, but the news cycle moved too fast for anyone to care. It wasn’t until the stars vanished entirely—one night, all at once—that the world finally looked up.
By abidnaseemabout a year ago in Fiction
Remember Who You Are
Remember Who You Are > There comes a moment when you stop looking outside for validation—and start reaching inside for strength. --- In the heart of a vast mountain range, cloaked by morning mist and silence, stood an eagle’s nest on the edge of a towering cliff. In that nest, long ago, was born a majestic eagle named Arion. From the beginning, he was different—bold, sharp-eyed, wings broader than most, and with a spirit that trembled not in fear but in potential. But fate had another idea. When Arion was still young, a storm of unimaginable fury struck the mountain. The winds howled like ancient beasts, tearing trees from the ground. His nest was shattered, and Arion was thrown from the cliffside. He flapped with desperation, but he was too young to fly. He fell. Not to his death, but to a place far below—a quiet valley carved between the hills, where people lived in a small village and tended to their sheep and chickens. A farmer found him, broken and still, and took him in. But the man didn’t know what Arion was. To him, the bird looked odd—too big for a hawk, too proud for a crow. Still, he nursed the eagle back to health and placed him with his chickens. And so, the eagle grew up among them. --- Years passed. Arion learned to scratch the dirt like the chickens. He learned to fear the fox and hide in coops when danger came. He ate grain and lived in a cage at night. He looked up at the sky sometimes, his chest stirring, something deep inside whispering—fly. But he never did. Because the chickens never flew. And he thought he was one of them. He forgot. Forgot the feeling of cold air brushing against feathers. Forgot the thrill of wind beneath wings. Forgot what he truly was. Until one day, the sky brought a reminder. --- A shadow passed over the field. The chickens scattered. Farmers looked up in awe. Above, circling in wide, majestic loops, was a wild eagle—bigger than any bird the villagers had seen. Its wings sliced the air like blades of light. It called out—a piercing cry that echoed through mountains and memories. Arion froze. Something deep inside him woke up. The call—it wasn’t just sound. It was recognition. Something stirred in his blood, in his bones, in the places untouched by years of forgetting. The eagle called again. Arion looked up at it. Then down at his talons. Then at the chickens beside him, who were already running for shelter. And then… he climbed to the top of the wooden fence, wings trembling. He opened them wide. They were larger than he remembered. The wind rustled his feathers. He hesitated—what if he fell again? What if he wasn’t strong enough? Then he heard the eagle cry a third time. And with a single breath, he jumped. --- At first, it was chaos. His wings flapped too hard. He wobbled, dipped, twisted— Then something clicked. The air caught under his wings. His body shifted. His heart caught rhythm. He rose. Higher. Faster. With each flap, the world grew smaller below, and his memory grew sharper within. He soared toward the other eagle. And when they met in mid-air, they didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. They simply flew—together, across the mountain tops, where the wind belonged to no one and the sky held no ceilings. --- Back in the village, the farmers whispered about what they saw. Some said it was magic. Others called it a miracle. But one old woman simply smiled and said: > “He just remembered who he was.” --- From that day on, the chickens often looked to the sky. And the children pointed, shouting, “There! The King of the Sky returns!” But Arion didn’t come back to scratch the ground. He came back only to remind others— That you are more than your cage. More than what people mistake you for. More than your fear. You are what you were born to be. Even if the world tries to make you forget it. --- 🌟 Moral of the Story: > You don’t become less just because others fail to see your greatness. The world may put you in a cage, call you something smaller, train you to stay low— But you are meant to rise. The sky never forgot you. So… remember who you are.
By Moto Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
Greek Mythology
1. THE COSMIC ORIGINS OF TARTAROS 1.1. The First Powers from Chaos According to Hesiod's Theogonia, one of the main sources of ancient Greek mythology , everything started with Chaos at the beginning of the universe. Chaos refers to an infinite and formless void in which order, form, and meaning do not yet exist. This "first" being or state is the starting point of the basic building blocks of the universe. Among the first beings to come after Chaos are Gaia (Earth), Tartaros (Depth), Eros (Love), Nyx (Night), and Erebus (Darkness). These beings are not gods or goddesses in the classical sense, but are direct cosmic forces. That is, they are the first energy fields that determine the functioning of the universe.
By Remzi Kazdalabout a year ago in Fiction
The True Path to Divine Vision
Once there was a devoted worshipper who wished to see God. In search of this sacred vision, he dedicated himself to a 40-day spiritual retreat. He fasted during the day and spent his nights in prayer and worship. Living in complete isolation, he disconnected himself from the world and its people. His time was filled with tears, whispers of prayers, and heartfelt conversations with his Lord. On the 36th night of his retreat, something unusual happened. At exactly 4 AM, he heard a mysterious voice calling him: “Go to the copper market, to the shop of a certain coppersmith, and you will see God there.” With great excitement and curiosity, the worshipper left early. He made his way to the market and began searching for the coppersmith’s shop in the narrow alleys. As he walked, he noticed an old woman holding a copper pot in her hands. She seemed tired but determined, going from one shop to another, showing her pot to each coppersmith, hoping to sell it. Each shopkeeper would weigh the pot and offer the same price: “You’ll get 4 riyals for this.”
By YASAR ALIabout a year ago in Fiction
The Roads I Didn’t Take
The Roads I Didn’t Take; Sometimes, when the house is quiet and the evening folds in like an old book, I find myself wandering down invisible roads. Not the streets I walk each day or the familiar paths of routine, but the ones I didn’t take — the decisions I brushed aside, the flights I never boarded, the words I left unsaid.
By Kine Willimesabout a year ago in Fiction