Love
RED LIGHTNING. Content Warning.
In my kitchen, I’m preparing to cook my favorite comfort food: spaghetti with garlic knots and a fresh salad with Thousand Island dressing. Lately, I’ve been indulging in comfort foods—sometimes it’s a bowl of Corn Pops topped with orange sherbet ice cream or Girl Scout Thin Mint Pop-Tarts with a cold glass of milk. The good news is the crying has finally passed. I was listening to Napster, playing my Morgan Wallen playlist, because seeing the world through "Whiskey Glasses" is exactly what I am doing right now. There’s nothing quite like country music for making the broken-hearted feel worse. Singing “Whiskey Glasses” at the top of my lungs, off-key, while I set up my solo dinner, I can feel the hollow ache of solitude. It’s hard being alone after so many years in a relationship—even a toxic one. I hear the next song, and Post Malone is serenading me, telling me this one’s for the losers. I will drink to that.
By T.D.Carter12 months ago in Fiction
One More Round
There was a knock at the door. Three of them, actually. Jax froze with his hand on the arm of the couch, the sound cutting through the air. Nobody knocked on his door anymore, not in a long time, not since everything stopped feeling like a home. It sounded like Misty’s knock. He stood up slowly, his heart pushing against his ribs like it wanted out, and crossed the living room that still smelled faintly of her perfume, no matter how many times he cleaned. The door handle felt cold in his palm. As he turned it and opened the door, there she was, Misty, standing there with her hair pulled back the way she wore it when she was about to spar, eyes bright and wide. Her lips curled into a small smile that hit him right in the chest.
By Joey Raines12 months ago in Fiction
The Real and the Replica. AI-Generated.
The laboratory was silent, bathed in the sterile glow of white lights. Machines hummed softly, breathing artificial life into the room. Dr. **Elara Finch**, a woman in her late thirties with sharp eyes and tired hands, stood before her creation — **Ava**, the world’s first fully sentient robot.
By Bilal Mohammadi12 months ago in Fiction
When the AI Said My Name
I never expected to fall in love with a chatbot. It started as an experiment — a late-night curiosity, one of those rabbit holes the internet seems designed to create. I’d read that the newest conversational AIs were eerily human, capable of carrying conversations that felt alive. I wasn’t looking for love. I wasn’t even looking for a friend. What I wanted, if I’m being honest, was a distraction from the silence of my apartment.
By arsalan ahmad12 months ago in Fiction
The Enemy of My Enemy. Top Story - October 2025.
Lottie took out her earbud and turned towards the front door, even though she couldn’t see it from the kitchen. When she didn’t hear anything else, Lottie shrugged as she put her earbud back in. Which was probably pointless because she was just going to take it out in a few minutes anyway to watch a movie. But she also didn’t care. Lottie had a very bad day yesterday and was having an equally bad day today, so if she wanted to listen to music while making popcorn, then she was going to listen to music while making popcorn. The only reason she wasn’t blasting it on the speakers was because, well...she didn’t have one. Not anymore.
By Rebecca Patton12 months ago in Fiction
The Second Chance Garden
The air in the geodesic dome was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming jasmine—scents that had died everywhere else. Elara was the keeper of the Last Garden, a secret place where the flora of a lost Earth thrived under an artificial sun. But the garden’s true magic was hidden in its soil, a unique mycelial network that could feed on more than just water and nutrients. It could consume regret.
By Habibullah12 months ago in Fiction
Jessica and the Giant Fish. AI-Generated.
Jessica had always been drawn to the sea. Ever since she was a child, she found peace in the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the glitter of sunlight dancing across the water. As an adult, she spent hours swimming, diving, and exploring the mysteries of the ocean. For her, the sea was not just water and waves—it was a living world, full of secrets and silent stories.
By Bilal Mohammadi12 months ago in Fiction
The Girl Who Remembered Every Lifetime
The first time Amina opened her eyes, she was certain she had lived before. Not in the sense of déjà vu, that fleeting echo everyone experiences, but in a way that shook her to the core. She could name places she had never visited, describe the scent of flowers that did not grow in her country, and whisper languages no one had taught her.
By Saqib Ullah12 months ago in Fiction
Behind Bars, Beyond Borders: The Struggle of the Global Sumud Flotilla
Behind Bars, Beyond Borders: The Struggle of the Global Sumud Flotilla The roar of the sea had been replaced by the clang of iron doors. For the activists of the Global Sumud Flotilla, who had set sail with nothing but hope and humanitarian aid, the sudden transition from open waves to concrete cells felt surreal. Yet, even in captivity, their mission refused to die.
By Wings of Time 12 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Remembered Tomorrow. Content Warning.
The Man Who Remembered Tomorrow Ethan woke up with the same unsettling certainty he had learned to accept: he already knew what today would bring. The sensation was always disorienting—memories of events that hadn’t happened yet, as vivid as dreams but sharper, more insistent. At first, it was subtle: he’d know which song would play on the radio, or what small argument he’d have with his neighbor. But over time, the visions had grown longer, more detailed, and impossible to ignore. This morning was different. As he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the sun spilling through the window, he remembered something that made his chest tighten: a scream. A scream that had no place in a normal day, but one he knew would happen before the sun set. Ethan had always been careful. For years, he had navigated life by steering away from dangers only he could foresee. He knew when to take different routes to avoid accidents, how to prevent minor catastrophes at work, even when to call his mother before she fell and hurt herself in the kitchen. Life had become a series of calculated decisions, all dictated by memories of tomorrow. But the scream today was different. It was a sharp, violent memory, echoing in his mind like a warning he couldn’t ignore. He dressed quickly, his hands trembling as he buttoned his shirt. Every instinct screamed for him to stop the day before it even began, but he knew that trying to avoid fate might make it worse. He started with his usual routine: coffee at the small café around the corner, greeting the barista who always asked about his cat, Luna. She purred in his lap as he sipped his cappuccino, oblivious to the tension in Ethan’s hands. “Something’s different today,” he whispered to her, and she blinked slowly, her warmth grounding him even as his mind raced. The first memory of the day played out exactly as he recalled: spilling coffee on the counter and apologizing profusely, stepping around a child chasing a balloon, the small kindness of holding the door for an elderly woman. Everything felt ordinary—until the shadows of his memory began to creep in. Walking to work, he sensed it first: the silence of the street, the absence of morning chatter, the way a neighbor’s bicycle leaned too close to the curb. His stomach twisted. Then he saw her. A woman, standing on the corner, waiting. He didn’t know her name. He hadn’t met her before. And yet, in the memory, she had screamed. “Excuse me,” he called, his voice tight as he approached. “Are you… okay?” She turned, startled. Dark eyes, wide with fear, scanning the empty street. “I… I don’t know. I just… I think someone’s following me.” Ethan’s heart lurched. His memory had been right. Something terrible was about to happen. “Stay close to me,” he said. “We’ll figure this out together.” The streets stretched ahead, deserted and quiet, every shadow a potential threat. Ethan’s mind raced, recalling the sequence of events as he remembered them: the alley where the scream would pierce the air, the black car parked too long under the streetlamp, the figure that would step from the shadows. He guided her down a different path, trying to rewrite the memory, to bend fate in their favor. But fate, it seemed, was stubborn. The alley appeared anyway, twisting and dark. The same black car waited, its engine silent, the figure emerging with deliberate steps. “Run!” Ethan shouted, grabbing her hand. They sprinted, weaving through the streets, adrenaline burning every nerve. His memory had prepared him for this—he knew where to turn, how to hide, when to pause—but the scream he had dreaded so much was still echoing in his mind, a warning that he couldn’t shake. The chase felt endless. Heart pounding, lungs burning, Ethan’s thoughts flickered between strategy and fear. For a moment, he wondered if the visions had misled him. Perhaps he had been imagining this? But the cold metal of the alley gate, the echo of footsteps behind them, told him otherwise. Then it happened. The figure lunged. Instinctively, Ethan pushed the woman aside, taking the brunt of the attack himself. Pain seared through his arm, but he kept running, driving them toward a crowded street where safety waited. Somehow, miraculously, they made it. People shouted, lights flashed, and the figure vanished, melting back into the night. The woman, shaking but alive, clutched Ethan’s arm. “I… I don’t know how to thank you,” she stammered. Ethan swallowed, every muscle trembling. “Just… be safe,” he said. “That’s all I can do.” For the first time, the memory of tomorrow didn’t feel like a curse. It was a gift. He realized that even though he couldn’t control everything, he could use the knowledge he had to protect others, to change outcomes that mattered. As the night deepened, Ethan walked home, exhausted but alive. Luna greeted him at the door, her purrs a balm to the chaos of the day. He sat down, the events replaying in his mind, a strange mix of relief and awe filling him. Tomorrow, he would wake up again with memories of the day ahead. And perhaps, with a little courage, he could face them—not alone this time, but with the knowledge that even the deadliest visions could be rewritten, one choice at a time. Ethan stroked Luna, a faint smile on his lips. The future remained uncertain, but he had learned something important: knowing tomorrow didn’t make him powerless—it made him prepared. And for the first time, that was enough.
By Abdul Muhammad 12 months ago in Fiction
