family

Arguments
"Anyone can start an argument in the house, but only Mother has the power to stop it and resolve it." My name is Ishaan. After college, I immediately joined a company. My parents, especially Nanna (my father), were very happy, but I always wanted a normal life. So, I quit my job after two years and decided to start a business in my hometown so that I could stay with my parents and take care of them.
By Arjun Sahasya3 years ago in Fiction
Snowed Over
Having been used to sitting high upon a brow, I was not used to being brought down so low. Or to be so forgotten as I was now at this point in my life. The head cherished me that I laid upon, so how could this happen to me?
By Mother Combs3 years ago in Fiction
DESTINY IN DISGUISE
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Maya. Maya was a kind and caring person, who always went out of her way to help others. She loved to spend time with her friends and family, and was always up for an adventure. But there was one thing that Maya longed for: love. She had never been in a serious relationship, and she was starting to feel like she might never find the right person. 💖
By Juäh Empire3 years ago in Fiction
One More Game. Content Warning.
The hot icicle of betrayal when she found out he'd been cheating (again) had never gone away. She'd just got used to it. Her insides had rearranged painfully around it.
By L.C. Schäfer3 years ago in Fiction
The Hunter
Lying here, in silver twisted twilight’s fate. Face staring up at the sky. The world froze to my face. The pain, inescapable.
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Fiction
Ephemeral Eternity
In the heart of Serenity Springs, where life moved at a pace that felt like an eternal Sunday afternoon, two souls, Emily and James, embarked on a journey that would weave their lives together in a tapestry of love.
By NIVETHA RAJAM D Article3 years ago in Fiction
The Snowrows’ Adventure
“Where are we going?” Mrs. Snowrow asked, struggling to keep up with her husband. They had no legs and Mr. Snowrow was much better at gliding on the snow using his oar.
By Lana V Lynx3 years ago in Fiction
Ready for Winter to End
Snow and ice as far as the eye can see, patches of street indiscernible from road or yard. A thin glaze of ice, snow packed firm, conditions in which no one should venture forth. Fluffy drifts of snow danced upon the wicked wind. Severe gusts that cut like knives straight to the bone. Frost-nipped fingers and bitten toes. Noses and cheeks red from winter’s burn. Pale gray clouds blot out the sun—dull, achy fingers, joints, and feet inside, where heaters and furnaces struggle to keep pace.
By S.N. Evans3 years ago in Fiction
Snow Days
Shovelful after shovelful, I dug a pathway to my front door. My arms throbbed from the labor and my body crumbled into poor posture. Every year this got harder. I took a swig of whiskey laced coffee from the flask in my coat. I looked out at the clean blanket of snow with its sparkling little crystals that played with the sun. They used to play with me. I looked at the ugly path I carved without care and felt the hot sensation of whiskey, coffee, and stomach acid churning inside me.
By M.A Rector3 years ago in Fiction
January
She can’t see anything out of her right eye now. Soon enough she’ll be seeing angels, but they pretend for now, ignore the soft ominous brush of their feathery wings to laugh and drink their midday drinks with an old movie playing halfheartedly. Black and white, like the scenes from their memories.
By Test3 years ago in Fiction
Captured in Time
In the quiet corner of a dusty attic, nestled among forgotten memories and discarded relics, I, a once-beloved camera, lay abandoned. My metallic body, weathered by time and travel, held within its lenses the stories of a bygone era—the tales of joy, sorrow, and the fleeting moments that escape the clutches of time. My journey, however, was far from over.
By Andy Kru3 years ago in Fiction
"Sacred Harmony: Nurturing the Womb, Revitalizing Sexual Organs, and Embracing Authentic Sexuality"
In the intricate tapestry of human existence, the womb stands as a symbol of life, creation, and feminine power. It is a sacred space that not only harbors the potential for physical creation but also holds the emotional and spiritual imprints of a woman's journey. The healing of the womb, along with the rejuvenation of sexual organs and the exploration of one's own sexuality, is a profound journey of self-discovery and self-love.
By Mohan3 years ago in Fiction