Fantasy
The Book That Changed My Village
In the small village of Shonapur, tucked away in the lush green heart of Bangladesh, life moved slowly. The days were marked by the rhythm of the rice fields, the call of the muezzin, and the chatter of neighbors by the riverbank. I was twelve, a skinny boy with big dreams and a bigger appetite for stories. My name was Arif, and my world was limited to the dusty paths of Shonapur—until a worn-out book found its way into my hands and changed everything.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
"What Happens After We Block Someone? A Digital Ghost Story Told by Algorithms"
I used to think that blocking someone was the end. A digital wall. A simple act of control in a chaotic, hyperconnected world. But what if I told you that’s not true? That when we block someone — or get blocked — it doesn’t delete the bond. It just buries it.
By Hamad Haiderabout a year ago in Fiction
The Brave Cub Who Walked Into the Storm
art of the African savanna, where golden grass whispers stories of survival and legacy, a lion cub named Leo was born. But unlike his siblings, who roared with instinct and leapt with promise, Leo was different. He was smaller. Quieter. Often overlooked. While the others played fiercely beneath the tall acacia trees, Leo watched from a distance—his eyes not on the games, but on the horizon. His paws were too small to race, his roar too soft to intimidate, and his legs trembled in the company of boldness. Yet there was something else inside him. A spark that didn’t show on the surface. A curiosity. A question. “Why don’t you join them?” his mother would ask gently, her golden eyes filled with worry. Leo would lift his head, ever so slightly. “Because I want to learn,” he would whisper. “I want to see the world before I try to conquer it.” Others in the jungle didn’t understand. They dismissed him. “Too small to matter,” scoffed the zebras. “Too quiet to be brave,” mocked the monkeys from their high, swinging homes. But Leo didn’t argue. He didn’t need to. Somewhere deep inside him, a voice far older than his own murmured: “Your time will come. And when it does, the world will know.” he Storm That Changed Everything It came without warning. The sky, once a blue canvas, darkened into a violent grey. Thunder cracked through the heavens, and the jungle trembled. The rain poured like arrows from the clouds, and the wind howled like forgotten spirits. Leo’s family, like many others, found refuge in a rocky cave near the cliffs. They huddled close, seeking warmth and safety as the world outside unravelled. Then came the sound that pierced the storm. A cry. Fragile and distant. Milo. The baby elephant from the neighboring herd. Lost. Alone. The lion king, Leo’s father, growled with authority. “No one moves. The storm is not kind to wanderers.” But Leo couldn’t sit still. His ears twitched at the sound. His heart raced—not with fear, but with purpose. “He’s out there,” Leo said, more to himself than anyone else. “He’s afraid.” “You’re just a cub,” his father barked. “Don’t be foolish.” But Leo had already stepped forward. His mother tried to stop him. But courage moves faster than doubt. And sometimes, a lion’s heart knows exactly when to roar—even if no one else can hear it.
By Arshad khanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Night the Stars Refused to Shine
The Night the Stars Refused to Shine by ZIA ULLAH KHAN No one knows exactly why the stars stopped shining that night. At first, people thought it was clouds—thick, gray smudges smeared across the sky by a careless god. But the air was dry, the sky was clear, and the moon hung silently, alone. The stars, all of them, had simply… vanished.
By ZIA ULLAH KHANabout a year ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Wasn't There
I hadn’t been home in twelve years. Not really. Not the kind of home that smells like old wood and lemon soap, with drawers that jam halfway and a back door that groans like a dying animal. But here I was, back in my parents’ house — the house I grew up in — standing in the silence of the foyer, key still trembling in my hand.
By Alain SUPPINIabout a year ago in Fiction
At The Edge Of Avalon
“… is that… you Sir…” “… Johston,” Felix the Thief lied with as much gusto as Sir Johston boasted to last night’s packed inn. He wasn’t proud of the impersonation, but if the knight was true this Lord’s quest came with a hefty sum of gold attached.
By Matthew J. Frommabout a year ago in Fiction
The Window That Never Opened
The Window That Never Opened!! I lived in Apartment 4C for three years before I noticed the window across the alley. It was small, square, and set into the bricks like it had been forgotten during construction. It faced mine directly, barely eight feet away, just across the narrow breath of the alley that divided our buildings like a secret no one wanted to share.
By Muhammad Maazabout a year ago in Fiction
The Library That Only Appeared at Midnight
It was almost by accident that I found the library that only appeared at midnight. I had never heard anyone speak of it before—not in stories, not in rumors, not even in the strange local legends old towns like mine tend to cling to. It simply... existed. Or rather, it existed only after the clock struck twelve, and only if you weren’t really looking for it.
By Muhammad Asimabout a year ago in Fiction
Beneath the Snow
The snow fell steadily that winter—soft, silent, and deceiving. It blanketed the small town of Halewick in a calm white coat, masking everything beneath with deceptive purity. Roads disappeared under inches of ice. Trees stood still like graveyard sentinels. But beneath the snow, something was hidden—something old, something no one talked about anymore. Or rather, something everyone had chosen to forget. It was the kind of winter mystery that wrapped itself around you, cold and patient, waiting for someone reckless or desperate enough to dig beneath the surface.
By Muhammad Asimabout a year ago in Fiction
