family
The White Page.
Once upon a time, in a small town nestled between rolling hills and a shimmering river, there lived a family known as the Parkers. They were an ordinary family with an extraordinary burden. The Parkers were the guardians of the White Page, a mysterious blank sheet of paper passed down through generations. It was said that the White Page held immense power, capable of shaping destinies and altering the course of lives. Yet, despite its potential, the page remained unmarked, a symbol of untapped hope and unrealized dreams.
By borsha afrin302 years ago in Fiction
Love of a Thousand and One Nights
The desert wind whispered secrets through the ancient city walls, carrying tales of sultans, scimitars, and shimmering oases. Tonight, beneath a sky dusted with a million stars, Scheherazade knelt before Shahryar, the king whose heart had turned as cold as the desert sands.
By Moharif Yulianto2 years ago in Fiction
The Boys Season 4 Episode 1
Season 4 of The Boys opens with Victoria Neuman taking the stage to thunderous cheers. Kimiko is a waitress there and is present during her big speech. The team crashes the party with The Boys. Butcher's out back, spitting his guts out, though. Naturally, it's a side effect of being on Temp V, but it also serves as a reminder that he is also living on borrowed time. Because he is supposed to cover their exit rather than participate in the plan, the other team members are leery of him.
By DEVASENAN SUBRAMANI2 years ago in Fiction
Journey to the Top of the Hills
Once upon a time, in a small village nestled in the shadow of towering hills, lived two inseparable friends, Lily and Jack. The pair had known each other since childhood and shared an unquenchable thirst for adventure. They had explored every corner of their village and the surrounding woods, but their eyes always wandered to the hills that loomed large in the distance.
By Dabasish Pal2 years ago in Fiction
A Love Story With a Heartfelt Twist
Once upon a time, in a small village nestled amidst lush green hills, lived two young souls named Emily and Thomas. They were childhood friends, and their bond grew stronger with every passing day. As they grew older, their friendship transformed into deep and affectionate love.
By Dabasish Pal2 years ago in Fiction
The Buried Truth
When Grandma died, we were all summoned home for her burial. Despite being 21 years old, I had never met her. My dad had always kept us, his children, away from his mother, a decision that had mystified us for years. I am the only daughter among six siblings, with two older and three younger brothers. Our curiosity about Grandma was persistent. While we frequently visited our maternal grandmother, who lived further away, we were never allowed to see our paternal grandmother, who lived in a nearby city. Our mother eventually revealed that ever since Dad's father died, he had avoided his mother, refusing to visit her or allow us to. She offered no further details, leaving us to speculate. Just as my siblings and I were planning a secret trip to see Grandma, one of our uncles called. I watched my dad answer the phone and hang up, his demeanor unchanged. That night, he gathered us all to announce, without a hint of emotion, that Grandma had died. He informed us we would be attending the burial the following week, spending five days away. Our regret was immediate—we had never met her while she was alive. Arriving at Grandma’s mansion the following week, we were stunned by its grandeur. The street was even named after our grandfather. It was evident that our grandparents had been affluent. I couldn’t understand why Dad had distanced himself from such a privileged background to live a modest life elsewhere. In the large compound, we saw our cousins playing together. We had little relationship with them, as Dad had kept us away from his family. Our arrival felt like an intrusion; all eyes were on us, the family of the estranged son. That evening, we were assigned rooms. I shared a room with Rose, a cousin who had visited us once before with her father, who had tried unsuccessfully to persuade Dad to visit Grandma. For the first time, I saw pictures of my grandparents. They were old photos, and I regretted never knowing Grandma before she passed away. As I lay in bed, I overheard Dad’s siblings confronting him about his long absence and sudden return. The argument was heated, but Dad’s attempts to defend himself were futile. He eventually stormed out, slamming the door. Rose, startled by the noise, revealed she was also awake. As the house quieted, I finally fell asleep, only to find myself in a vivid dream. I was outside the mansion, watching a younger version of my dad with his parents. They had just argued, and Dad had urged them to sleep and discuss things in the morning. Suddenly, a scream pierced the night. Rushing to their room, I saw Grandma holding a knife, bloodied, over Grandpa’s lifeless body. Dad accused her of murder, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Grandma, shocked and confused, denied it, but the sight of her favorite knife in her hand told a different story. Dad packed his bags and left, leaving her devastated. Rose’s call woke me. It was morning, and the sun was already high. The dream haunted me, but I kept it to myself. The next night, the dream repeated. This time, Grandma begged me to believe she hadn’t killed her husband, her eyes filled with tears. I awoke, terrified, and unable to sleep for the rest of the night. The next morning, I confided in Dad. He listened, visibly shaken, and asked me to seek more information if the dream recurred. That night, despite my fear, I fell asleep quickly. The dream returned. Remembering Dad’s request, I asked Grandma what happened after Dad left the room. She wept, then pointed towards a passage. I followed and saw a masked figure fleeing. Catching up, I unmasked him—it was Dad. He confessed, saying he had been drunk and didn’t remember killing his father. Grandma, who knew the truth, had kept silent all these years. I awoke in confusion. The dream suggested Dad had unwittingly killed his own father, a secret he had buried deep. After breakfast, I told Dad about the latest dream. He broke down, finally acknowledging the truth he had long suppressed. He asked me to forget it, and it was the last time I had the dream. At Grandma’s burial, Dad, usually stoic, was the most emotional. His grief was raw, surprising everyone but me. I realized he had finally confronted the buried truth, a secret Grandma had taken to her grave. Now, it was my burden to carry, a hidden truth that would remain with me forever.
By Oluwatosin Tade2 years ago in Fiction
Shooting Stars & UFOs
My empty water glass glowed red in the light of the clock radio, which read 3:12 am. After multiple trips to the bathroom and three hours of staring at the ceiling, I was still awake. Blurred thoughts scurried through my mind at a pace that would not allow me to grasp a complete understanding . I could get the gist of them though: tomorrow, I would see my father for the first time in six years and I was worried.
By Dani McGaw2 years ago in Fiction
To Dream is to Forget. Content Warning.
"I've dreamed a lot. I'm tired now from dreaming, but not tired of dreaming. No one tires of dreaming, because to dream is to forget, and forgetting does not weigh on us, it is a dreamless sleep throughout which we remain awake." - Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Fiction
A Journey of Brightness and Balance
As the blistering hot rays of the summer sun surrounded the area on the longest day of the year, I felt a surge of anticipation and excitement. Today was not just any day; June 20, 2024 (Summer Solstice), was a day to honor the Sun and its life-giving energy, reflect on the past year, and prepare for one of the most exciting seasons of the year! Opening my eyes to the warm, amber light flooding my bedroom, I aimed to ensure my summer would start well!
By Anthony Chan2 years ago in Fiction
