Love
The Last letter
The Last Letter The old postbox at the corner of Willow Street hadn’t seen much use in years. Emails had stolen its purpose, and only dust and rust kept it company. Yet, every evening, a woman named Meera would walk to it, carefully slip in an envelope, and leave without looking back.
By Ishan guptaabout a year ago in Fiction
Lost Memories. AI-Generated.
Ravi awoke with a start, the sunlight streaming through the half-open blinds 🌤️. The world around him felt unfamiliar, like stepping into someone else’s life. He blinked, trying to gather his thoughts, but the memory of last night—or maybe yesterday—was a blur. His apartment, usually so familiar, now felt like a strange museum of shadows.
By arsalan ahmadabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Letter. AI-Generated.
The village had begun to drowse in the stillness of early morning. Narrow lanes, once alive with chatter and footsteps, now seemed to echo with memory more than sound. On this day, Ibrahim, the old postman, was to hang up his satchel for good. For more than forty years, he had been the quiet courier of joy and sorrow, his leather bag swollen with births, deaths, promises, and apologies.
By arsalan ahmadabout a year ago in Fiction
Bright Lights and Bad Decisions
Elona stood at the floor-to-ceiling window wall of her hotel room, looking out toward the bright lights of Sin City. If there were any place on Earth she should find herself, it would be here, the city known for inhibition and impulsiveness. Was this trip really that impulsive, though?
By Krysha Thorpabout a year ago in Fiction
When the Call Came at Midnight: Chapter Three
The rain refused to stop, and neither did my heartbeat. Adrian stood like a shield in front of me, facing the stranger who had appeared out of the storm as if he belonged to it. The lightning framed him in silver for a moment, and I caught a glimpse of sharp eyes that never once blinked.
By Saba Writesabout a year ago in Fiction
Crimson Vows
Elara had always been drawn to the abandoned cathedral at the edge of town. Its stained-glass windows were cracked, its spires crooked against the sky like broken fingers. The townspeople said it was cursed, but to Elara, it felt alive—breathing, watching, waiting. That night, the full moon bathed the ruins in silver. She walked barefoot across the cracked marble floor, her dress whispering against the stone. She wasn’t alone. He was there. Lucien. The man who had haunted her dreams for years. His presence was impossible to ignore—tall, lean, with eyes the color of storm clouds and lips curved in the faintest smile. His coat was dark as midnight, but his skin was pale, almost luminous in the moonlight. “You came,” he murmured, his voice velvet and shadow all at once. “You called,” she whispered back. She didn’t ask how. She had always felt him—behind her when she stared into mirrors, in the brush of cold wind against her cheek, in the hollow of her chest when she woke at midnight. He was everywhere, and nowhere. Now he was here. Lucien stepped closer, his boots echoing in the hollow nave. “You shouldn’t have answered. Once you step into this place, you are mine.” The words should have chilled her. Instead, her pulse quickened, her breath catching in her throat. “And if I don’t want to leave?” His smile deepened, but there was sorrow in it. “Then you will be bound to me in ways you cannot imagine. Love is not gentle here, Elara. It is blood and fire. It consumes.” Her fingers trembled, but she reached for him anyway. When her skin brushed his, a shiver surged through her body. His hand was cold, but the jolt that shot through her veins was heat—raw, burning, terrifying. Lucien closed his eyes, as though savoring her touch. “You don’t know what I am.” “Then tell me,” she demanded, her voice breaking but fierce. He opened his eyes. For a moment, they glowed faintly—not human. His voice dropped to a whisper, lower than the wind: “I am cursed. Bound to this place for centuries. Every soul who loves me is devoured by it. Their lives become part of the cathedral’s walls, their whispers trapped in the stone. To love me is to die in pieces.” Elara’s breath caught. She should have recoiled, should have run. But the shadows in his words only pulled her closer. “And yet… I can’t stop. I’ve been waiting for you. Even if it kills me.” Lucien’s expression wavered—pain, hunger, longing. He touched her face, his thumb grazing her lip. “You’re more dangerous than I am,” he said softly. The silence between them was electric. The broken cathedral seemed to pulse around them, shadows gathering like an audience. Lucien lowered his head, his lips barely brushing hers. The kiss was gentle at first, but beneath it, there was a storm—an ache so deep it could tear the world apart. She tasted eternity in that kiss, bitter and sweet, like wine and blood. When they pulled apart, the air was thick with whispers. The stained-glass windows flickered with light though no sun touched them. The cathedral itself seemed to awaken. “You’ve sealed it,” he said hoarsely, his forehead pressed against hers. “The vow is made. The cathedral has claimed you.” Elara’s chest tightened, not with fear, but with a strange, fierce joy. “Then I’ll stay. If this place wants me, it can have me. As long as it keeps you with me.” Lucien’s hands shook as he gripped her shoulders. His eyes were wild with something between love and despair. “You don’t understand—there is no end to this. You will wither, and your soul will root itself into these walls. You’ll never leave, Elara. Never.” She lifted her chin, her eyes blazing with defiance. “Then let it be forever.” The cathedral roared. The broken glass blazed with crimson fire, shadows spiraled, and the marble cracked beneath their feet. The air itself tightened, like chains wrapping around their bodies. Lucien tried to pull away, but Elara held him. Their lips met again, harder this time, desperate, sealing the vow that neither could undo. As the fire dimmed and the cathedral stilled, her body trembled. She felt her strength draining, her pulse slowing. The walls hummed with a new voice—hers—blended with the chorus of souls that had loved him before. Lucien clutched her close, anguish in his eyes, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t. For the first time in centuries, he allowed himself to love, fully, recklessly, knowing the price. And in her fading breath, Elara whispered the last words he would ever hear from her living lips: > “Better to die with you… than to live without.” Her eyes fluttered shut. The cathedral shuddered, then fell silent again, a tomb for lovers who should never have touched. Lucien pressed his lips to her hair, his voice breaking as he whispered back: > “Then we are bound, my crimson bride.” And as the moon slid behind the clouds, the cathedral whispered too—her voice joining the eternal chorus, haunting, beautiful, and in love forever.
By INFO INSIDER about a year ago in Fiction
The Power of AI: How Artificial Intelligence is Shaping the Future of Humanity
The Power of AI: How Artificial Intelligence is Shaping the Future of Humanity --- A New Era of Intelligence Artificial Intelligence (AI) is no longer the stuff of science fiction—it’s here, woven into the fabric of our daily lives. At its core, AI is the simulation of human intelligence by machines. It can learn, adapt, and even make decisions, sometimes faster and more accurately than people. What was once imagined in futuristic novels is now a reality: machines that recognize faces, translate languages, diagnose diseases, and even create art. The rise of AI represents a turning point in human history, comparable to the invention of electricity or the internet.
By Muhammad Ibrahimabout a year ago in Fiction
Wedding Day Wish
The day is bright. A few whisps of clouds break up the monotony of blue. Breezes flow in off the cool, serene waters of the Pacific and through the open window beside me, the sheer curtains gently billowing. Standing before the full-length mirror, I ponder at the person I see before it.
By Krysha Thorpabout a year ago in Fiction
