Fantasy
Moonlit Secrets
In the vibrant tapestry of the NYSC camp, where dreams and connections intertwined, a tender love story unfolded between Michael and Juliana. Their tale extended far beyond the confines of the campgrounds, weaving a romantic narrative that would captivate hearts and minds. This is the enchanting chronicle of a love that blossomed quietly, a mystery neither of them could let go.
By Michael Oregbuyide3 years ago in Fiction
The Lost Kingdom of Shadows
In a realm where the sun reigned supreme, untouched by the mysteries of shadow, lived a young cartographer named Evan. His world, awash in perpetual daylight, was a tapestry of well-trodden lands and well-mapped territories. Evan, with his quill and parchment, was the master of charting the known, the familiar, the safe.
By Maple In Spring3 years ago in Fiction
The Cosmic Composer
In a world cloaked in silence, where melodies were forbidden whispers, our story begins. The year was 2104, in a metropolis draped in monochrome, under the watchful eye of the authoritarian Ministry of Silence. Here, music was a relic, a ghost of a vibrant past, locked away in the vaults of history. Our hero, Elian, was an anomaly – a secret composer, crafting symphonies in the shadowy confines of his dim-lit apartment, yearning for a world where music danced freely in the air.
By Maple In Spring3 years ago in Fiction
Afterglow. Top Story - January 2024.
The evening sun broke through the late summer clouds, slowly rousing me, but I did not open my eyes. For a moment longer. I wanted to linger in the happy fantasy that I would not be alone. That for once, she would still be there when I woke.
By Alexander McEvoy3 years ago in Fiction
HISTORY....
In the heart of ancient Rome, on a bustling street near the grand Colosseum, a young artisan named Lucius toiled in his workshop. The air was thick with the scent of molten metal as he meticulously crafted a sword, its blade reflecting the flickering flames of the forge. Lucius harbored a secret dream—to join the gladiators in the arena, where fame and fortune awaited those with skill and courage.
By Zoafshan Mehmood3 years ago in Fiction
Vanished
I do not know the time or date when I was first misplaced, but I know where creativity occurs is my home— this is not it. The place of creativity is bright most of the day and dark at night. This place is only dark but not completely dark. I can observe the palace of creativity through a gap wide enough to slide through. If I had a voice, I would have called out or screamed; if I could independently move, I would have returned where I belong– but I have neither. Though I started counting the passage of time, the days and nights bled together. Every day, my hope of retrieval diminished until only my memories of the time before and the chill of this resting place remained.
By S.N. Evans3 years ago in Fiction
