family
The Clock That Ticked Backwards”
Part 1: The Discovery I had never seen a clock like that before. It wasn’t beautiful or fancy. It had a plain wooden frame, a cracked glass face, and bold black numbers. But what made it unusual wasn’t how it looked — it was how it behaved.
By Naimat ullahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Light of Knowledge: A Path to Divine Success
My dear brothers and sisters, As-salamu Alaikum wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatuh. Today, I stand before you not as a scholar, but as a humble servant of Allah, reflecting on a gift so profound, so transformative, that it shapes not only our lives but our eternal destiny—knowledge. The pursuit of knowledge is not merely a worldly endeavor; it is a sacred journey, a lantern that illuminates the path to Allah’s pleasure. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said, “Seeking knowledge is an obligation upon every Muslim.” Let us ponder this divine command and embark on a journey to understand how knowledge brings us closer to our Creator.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
Kindness Tastes Like Lemon Tea. AI-Generated.
I never liked tea. Not the bitter green kind, not the herbal kind my mom kept insisting would help me “balance out,” and definitely not the flowery ones that tasted like wilted garden petals. But I drank it anyway—every day at 4:15—for nearly four months, sitting at a round table by a window in Mrs. Calloway’s faded yellow kitchen.
By waseem khanabout a year ago in Fiction
Tapeworm . Content Warning.
It was easy after the girl. That worked out a bit better than I'd planned. I thought she might just get a broken leg, best case. Most likely, just some scrapes, and a lot of tears and snot. I thought I wouldn't have to sit through another evening listening to her prattle on about ponies. Well. I was right about that part. A broken neck? I knew it was possible, but I'd never imagined that might actually happen. Little nudges here and there, things moved or tampered with, a little pressure, some guilt... These things had got the father's arm in plaster, and sprained his ankle...but never actually claimed a life. I felt giddy when I heard. She'd died! Actually died! I did that! Me! It was a rush I hadn't expected. And it had happened while I'd been nowhere near. It wouldn't be connected to me at all. I'd got away with it! Another rush, nearly as powerful. Nearly enough to knock me off my feet. The baby wasn't so good. I mean, it's hardly a person is it? And it might not have been me. They ruled it cot death. Babies do die of that. Case in point, really. What kind of pathetic creature is in danger from sleeping of all things? Ridiculous. The father was even less good than that. For one, he's still breathing. He walked out of here on two good legs. OK, it was probably my fault, or mostly. But it didn't feel like it. I didn't think I'd get away with the death of another child, but I let the cogs turn in my brain, and kept my eyes open for a likely opportunity. If nothing presented itself, well, that was okay. For now. Maybe I'd push them out, manipulate them into living with their father. Or maybe I'd get rid of him properly. Make it look like he did a runner. Let them spend their lives looking for someone beyond reach. I'd intended to break her, the mother, but I hadn't counted on being so quick about it. Nor so thorough. Ah, well. I guess I get to see just how far a person can break. I'm torn between getting clean away with it, and letting her suspect just a little. Maybe I'll hont 1 might have had something to do with her daughter dying. See what effect that has. How much would she hate herself if she started believing it? After she's been sleeping with me? I bet sheld keep doing it though. I bet I could make her. I mean, she barely wants to now. You know, I reckon she could break a bit more. She's already looking hallow and scattered, how hard can it be to nudge her closer to madness? Just in case she does try to accuse me. The best part is only just dawning on me. I don't feel like a mis-matched puzzle piece anymore. I feel like I actually belong. This is my house now. She's mine. Soon, there'll be another baby (mine). I heard, as women get older, their chance of conceiving twins goes up. Wouldn't that be delicious? Replace those two in one go. It's all that, and more. It's this: She's as broken as I am, now. They all are.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
The Weight of the Empty Chair
The smell of rosemary and pie filled the house, warm and too familiar. Rachel hovered in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, a damp dish towel still clutched in her hand. Her mother stood at the head of the table, folding a napkin with slow precision.
By Oula M.J. Michaelsabout a year ago in Fiction
Still Life, With Peaches. Top Story - August 2025. Content Warning.
The house waited at the end of the gravel road, sunlit and still. Nothing stirred but dust in the wind. From the car, it might have been any summer of his boyhood. The porch slouched in the late afternoon light, the swing held its crooked smile. Ivy had taken the railings entirely.
By Oula M.J. Michaelsabout a year ago in Fiction
