family
O Soave Fanciulla
Allen sat in a quiet and quaint Italian bistro, enjoying the gentle classical music in the background, lifting the atmosphere. He thought about how he’d waited a month for this night—since that unexpected coffee shop encounter. Though Samantha didn’t know at the time, it was a re-encounter.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Fiction
She Was Never Real
I met her on a rainy Tuesday. The kind of rain that doesn't just fall—it lingers in the air, heavy and cold, like the universe itself is pressing down on you. I was sitting alone in a bookstore café, sipping cheap coffee and pretending to read a book I’d already abandoned. She sat across from me without asking, as if we’d done it a thousand times before.
By Leah Brookeabout a year ago in Fiction
The Museum of Forgotten Goodbyes
The Museum of forgotten goodbyes by AHMAD Tucked into a quiet corner of a forgotten town, where streetlights flickered like uncertain memories and the air always seemed tinged with the hush of secrets, stood a peculiar building known only by a small, rusted sign: The Museum of Forgotten Goodbyes.
By muhammad shahabout a year ago in Fiction
HE WAITED WHILE I HEALED
I wasn’t looking for love when I met him. In fact, I was still at war with the idea of being loved at all. Four years ago, I was just trying to breathe through the days broken, guarded, holding my wounds together with a fake smile and tired prayers. Healing wasn’t soft; it wasn’t peaceful. It was loud, lonely, confusing, and filled with days I didn’t know how I survived.
By Ms Rotondwa Mudauabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Letter in the Bottle
The glass bottle glinted under the fading sun, half-buried in the damp sand of Crescent Beach. Its green curves caught the light like a winking eye, a secret washed ashore by the restless tide. I’d come here every summer since I was six, chasing waves and dreams with my sister, Lila. She’d sprint ahead, her laughter brighter than the gulls’ cries, her bare feet kicking up foam as she dared me to find treasures in the sea’s offerings. Shells, driftwood, once even a shark’s tooth—she called them gifts from the ocean. But Lila was gone now, stolen by a riptide last July, the kind that snatches breath and futures in seconds. I was sixteen, and the beach felt like a graveyard, each wave a reminder of her absence.
By Muhammad Abuzar Badshah about a year ago in Fiction
The Thing About Summer
Janice was so excited about the thought of summer. It was the time where her family gathered at the lake house eating watermelon by the dock, chasing down a rainbow trout, diving off the sun-heated cliffs into the cold water, freckles appearing on her nose as she sun tanned, her older cousins buying beer and drinking- not to get drunk, but just to enjoy a citrusy light beer, until late in the night by a deck of cards, taking out the canoe on an evening and just enjoying peace. She couldn’t wait. It would be perfect. Plus her cousins would be there and now that they were old enough her parents decided to go do their own vacation on a cruise for the first time. Her last exam finished and she started packing; taking out her pink tote bag she could already taste summer, but it might’ve been the watermelon lip gloss. A knock came on the bedroom door.
By Adrianna M. Braunabout a year ago in Fiction
