Love

The Boy Who Collected Sunlight
In the valley of Darvesh, surrounded by towering hills and thick forests, there lived a boy named Sami. His skin was the color of almonds, his eyes sparkled like river stones, and he had a strange habit—he collected sunlight.
By Kamran khanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Gap Between Life and Eternity
Do you remember a time before being born? We’re not supposed to, you know. It’s like those strange, weird-feeling growing pains that we got as children. Adults told us what they were, but couldn’t translate them. How do you explain cell division, bone density? An extra millimeter added to a blood vessel, the joyful split of chromosomes?
By Meredith Harmonabout a year ago in Fiction
The Lighthouse Keeper’s Promise. AI-Generated.
In the sleepy village of Merrow’s Cove, tucked against a rugged coastline, the lighthouse stood tall—weather-worn but proud. Its white stone walls bore the salt and storms of a hundred seasons, and within it lived the last lighthouse keeper: Elias Wren, a man of habit, of silence, and of unshakable devotion.
By Adil Nawazabout a year ago in Fiction
Love? Game?. Content Warning.
Para que seas mia por primera vez Yo tengo deseo de ti Te lo prometo Yo te deseo Yo quiero estar contigo Yo puedo y quiero
By PlanetExabout a year ago in Fiction
He Was a Poem I Could Never Finish
There are people you meet who feel like a punctuation mark—short, sharp, definitive. And then there are the ones who feel like poetry. He was the latter. A stanza that started in a storm and left me searching for a final line I could never write.
By Hanif Ullah about a year ago in Fiction
Heatwave
Scratch that—it was the hottest day since the invention of heat. Somewhere between Dante's Inferno and a microwave burrito sat a tiny motel on the edge of nowhere, where two rival journalists were about to commit the gravest of sins: sharing a room.
By Shakespeare Jrabout a year ago in Fiction
"The Smell of Rain on Old Letters". AI-Generated.
The first letter arrived on a Tuesday. No envelope. No return address. Just a folded page slipped under the door of Mara’s bookstore.
By Abdullah khanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Echo of the Green Light
The summer I arrived in Havenwood was drenched in a peculiar kind of gold, the sort that only seems to exist in retrospect, painted by the brushstrokes of nostalgia. It was 2008, and while the economic tremors were already rumbling beneath the surface of the grand American experiment, in Havenwood, nestled on the coast, the champagne still flowed like a river and the laughter rang out like chimes. I, Arthur Finch, a budding journalist fresh out of university, had come seeking stories, not a legend. But legends, I soon learned, often find you.
By Jack Nodabout a year ago in Fiction
MISSING: A World War II Story of Love, Friendship, Courage, and Survival
On the ninth day of the brutal Battle of the Bulge in December 1944, 2nd Lt. Donald N. Evans, a young American fighter pilot, flew his P-47 Thunderbolt over the icy forests of Belgium. The mission was routine—until enemy fire ripped through his aircraft. With only seconds to spare, Don bailed out of his burning plane, parachuting into the bitter cold and snow-covered chaos below. He landed behind enemy lines, wounded and alone, with a shattered leg and no clear direction to safety. In the unforgiving wilderness of the Ardennes Forest, Don crawled and limped through snowdrifts, driven only by willpower and the hope of surviving. On Christmas Eve, he found shelter beneath a pine tree. He was starving, freezing, and completely isolated. All around him, artillery echoed through the hills, and enemy patrols searched the woods. He lay silent, consumed by pain and fear, unsure whether he’d ever see his family or homeland again. But Don’s journey was just beginning. Soon after, he was discovered and captured by German SS troops—the most feared paramilitary arm of the Nazi regime. Alongside hundreds of other American prisoners, Don was forced to endure a brutal 200-mile march through enemy territory in the depths of winter. Weak from injury and hunger, he was pushed to his physical and emotional limits. The prisoners endured freezing temperatures, constant abuse from guards, and total uncertainty about their fate. Many didn’t survive. Those who did, like Don, were later imprisoned in German POW camps, where survival became a daily battle of endurance and inner strength. That Don Evans survived is nothing short of a miracle. But his story isn’t only one of suffering—it’s also one of profound love, loyalty, and human connection. Born into poverty in a small American town, Don was the classic all-American boy. He was a natural leader, student body president, a gifted athlete, and deeply optimistic about the future. At eighteen, he enrolled in college and fell in love with his high school sweetheart, Laura Jeanne. They were young, hopeful, and full of dreams for the life they planned to build together. Then came December 1941. The attack on Pearl Harbor pulled America into the war, and Don, like so many others, answered the call to serve. Before shipping out to Europe, he and Laura Jeanne married, clinging to the belief that love would survive—even through the fires of war. Don became part of the 368th Fighter Group of the Ninth Air Force. There, he formed an unbreakable bond with four other young pilots, calling themselves simply “The Five.” Together, they flew dangerous missions over Nazi-occupied territory, supporting ground troops and risking their lives daily. Their brotherhood—built in the skies over Europe—provided strength, courage, and a deep emotional connection in the face of constant danger. One of the most intimate and moving elements of Don’s story is the series of letters he and Laura Jeanne exchanged during the war. These deeply personal letters reveal their unwavering love, their fears, their dreams, and the emotional lifeline that kept them going. Through their words, readers gain a rare, firsthand glimpse into the emotional toll of war—not only for the soldiers on the front lines, but also for those waiting anxiously back home. The story of MISSING is crafted through a rich blend of firsthand letters, journal entries, mission reports, and interviews. It offers not just historical facts but a deeply human portrait of a young couple swept up in world-changing events. It explores themes of love, friendship, sacrifice, and survival in one of history’s darkest chapters. By war’s end, Don returned home forever changed—scarred in body and spirit, but alive. His reunion with Laura Jeanne was the fulfillment of a promise whispered across oceans and battlefields, a testament to the endurance of hope and love. The young man who had once huddled alone beneath a pine tree in a frozen forest had come home—not unchanged, but unbroken. MISSING is more than a war story. It is a tribute to the resilience of the human spirit, the power of love to sustain us, and the friendships that give us strength when everything else is stripped away. In a time of global darkness, Don Evans’ story shines as a beacon of courage and humanity
By Israr khanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Mirror I Couldn’t Face
The Mirror I Couldn’t Face How a Drag Show in a Small Town Helped Me Embrace Who I Am In the fall of 2025, I stood backstage at a dive bar in my small town, clutching a secondhand sequined jacket and wondering what the hell I was doing. At 27, I’d spent years dodging mirrors—not just the physical ones, but the ones that forced me to confront who I was. I’d known I was queer since I was a teenager, but growing up in a place where “different” was whispered like a dirty word, I’d buried that truth deep. That night, at the town’s first-ever drag show, I was about to step into the spotlight as Ruby Star, my drag persona, and I was terrified.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
Snowball and the Whispering Moon
Snowball was not quite a rabbit, nor exactly a fox. He had fur as white as freshly fallen dreams and eyes like polished sapphires. In the village, they called him the quiet wanderer, for he never made a sound. Not even his paws left prints in the snow.
By Abuzar khanabout a year ago in Fiction
Digital Dust
The data morgue smelled like ozone and loneliness. Maya adjusted her luminescent hazmat suit’s hood, the hiss of filtered air her only companion. Before her stretched Server Vault 7—miles of abandoned user profiles, decaying chat logs, and forgotten memories scheduled for permanent deletion. Her job: scrub digital graves clean.
By Habibullahabout a year ago in Fiction