Excerpt
HELLCAT
In the world of automotive enthusiasts, there exists a machine that transcends mere metal and mechanics—a car that embodies the spirit of rebellion, power, and unbridled aggression. This is the Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat, often referred to as the demon car of the modern era. With its menacing appearance, thunderous engine, and mind-bending performance, the Hellcat is more than just a car; it's a manifestation of automotive inferno.
Side Effects
Mount Etna Pietre cannone was a beautiful landscape decorated with incredible cylindrical rock formations. Timeless works of natural art formed when ancient tree trunks became enveloped by flowing lava. Through a unique phenomenon known as lithification, solid rock casts of those young trees are all that remain today.
Crush on river
the tadpoles and dragonflies, teased him for his infatuation with Dwala, but he paid them no mind, as his heart belonged to Dwala alone.
Praveen PkPublished 29 days ago in FictionSilent is a bravery
In a small village, a quiet resolve echoed louder than any clamor, a testament to the community's unspoken pact of bravery. The village had been ravaged by a great calamity, leaving its people scarred and wary.
Praveen PkPublished 29 days ago in FictionMythical Creature
In the imaginary Ocean a mythical creature known as the Lava Whale was believed to be born of ancient magic and synchronized with the rhythmic flow of magma above.
Praveen PkPublished 29 days ago in FictionMy NeIgHbOuR iN aNoThEr UnIvErSe
Universes is a story about a young man who discovers a mysterious portal in his backyard and finds himself in a parallel universe.
Praveen PkPublished 29 days ago in FictionGravity Pulled Me Apart
The leaf, born of the same tree, finds its heart entwined with the branches above it, sharing a bond that transcends mere proximity.
Praveen PkPublished 30 days ago in FictionWhen the Birds Come Home in Spring - The Overture
Having recently finished my Master's Thesis, I decided to take a deep dive into my Google Docs and dredge from its murky depths some of my old prose. This novel has been in progress for the greater part of six years. At first it was a short story, submitted to a fiction workshop in my sophomore year of my undergrad. Then a fellow student who I was trying to impress narrowed her eyes at me from across the room and said to me, "This feels like it should be more of a novel." So here we are. Every attempt I've made to start and restart When the Birds Come Home in Spring has fizzled out. So maybe we can start afresh and anew. This is, more or less, my masterpiece in the making. I hope you enjoy it, chapter by chapter.
Steven Christopher McKnightPublished about a month ago in FictionThe Illumination
Given the fervor surrounding The Illumination, Jounelle felt a resolve to take part in the ceremony that was not her own. Pressure from her family and friends mounted against her, pulling in a tide of submission and acquiescence. She now anxiously or eagerly awaited The Teacher’s arrival; she wasn’t sure which. As the door to the small, empty room opened, she turned to face the man who entered. He had a tall, slim, and lithe build. He wore a well-fitted, deep blue suit that accented his frame. His eyes seemed to lock into hers immediately. Deference was her instinctual reaction to his presence. She lowered her head, averting her gaze. He moved closer, and Jounelle recoiled slightly. She caught her fear and stopped moving but couldn’t bring herself to look at him again.
- Top Story - April 2024
Midnight
60 seconds… 59 seconds… Time was slipping through his fingers, though he clawed at the falling grains of sand, he could not stop the hourglass from flowing. Around him, the silence was deafening. He had taken over every screen in the command centre, putting the terrible seconds before the terrified eyes of his friends and comrades.
Alexander McEvoyPublished about a month ago in Fiction World in Tatters Ch. 32
The sound of the carriage rocking helps me to focus. Jason kept all this from me for five years. Why would he? It doesn’t make sense. Clearly there is more to the story. I mean…my mother is alive. All this time. All these years, and she’s been alive. How much did Jason know?
Kevin BarkmanPublished about a month ago in FictionThe Colonial Imagination
An imposing and unmarked white van crept through the residential neighborhood, following Jericho as she took her customary post-third shift stroll home from Cristy’s, a new but rapidly aging burger joint west of town. It was a three-mile walk that she usually biked. Had someone not cut the lock the night before and stolen the Specialized S-Works her mother had used as a young woman and gifted to Jericho when she first moved away for college, she would have been home already.