Love
The Boy Who Sold Silence
The city of Veridia screamed. Car horns dueled beneath Arlo’s penthouse window. Subways groaned like wounded beasts. Neon signs buzzed like angry hornets. Even at 3 a.m., the relentless noise seeped through triple-paned glass, vibrating in his teeth. Arlo Thorne, Veridia’s most sought-after music producer, hadn’t slept without pills in two years. His latest platinum track—"Neon Pulse"—echoed the city’s frantic heartbeat, but inside, Arlo was drowning.
By Habibullahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Letter in the Rain
The rain had been falling for hours—soft, unrelenting, like it had a memory of its own. Ella pulled her scarf tighter around her neck as she walked down the narrow path behind the old post office. It was the kind of day made for hiding from the world, but something tugged at her chest, pulling her toward the past. She didn’t know why she took that path today—she hadn’t in years. Not since he left.
By Wow Geniusabout a year ago in Fiction
The Cup Was Still Warm
The Cup Was Still Warm By Mahboob Khan Sundays always felt too quiet after Adam left. It wasn’t that he slammed the door or made a scene. Adam was the kind of man who left like morning mist — quietly, slowly, until you weren’t sure he’d ever been there at all. And this time, he hadn’t even said goodbye.
By Mahboob Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
A World Without Sleep. AI-Generated.
The Day the Night Died It began with a whisper—an unexplained global shift. First, the insomniacs noticed. They stopped complaining. Then, the dreamers found their nights empty. No yawns, no fatigue, no need for rest. Within weeks, it was official: humankind no longer needed sleep. At first, it was hailed as a miracle. Scientists called it the Lucid Surge—an evolutionary jump no one could explain. “The brain has found a new rhythm,” they said. No one aged faster. No one fell ill from exhaustion. Our bodies simply… adapted. We had won back a third of our lives. But the cost wasn’t what we expected. --- The Endless Grind With no need for sleep, days became endless. What once were evenings of rest and reconnection turned into bonus work hours. Employers extended shifts. Schools ran 24/7. Cities buzzed with activity around the clock. Capitalism rejoiced. Rest became laziness. “Why nap when you can produce?” became the mantra on corporate billboards. People were always available, always reachable. Burnout didn’t disappear—it mutated. Mental exhaustion grew in strange new shapes. Without dreams, creativity suffered. Without rest, perspective blurred. The world had gained time, but lost stillness. --- The Dreamless Generation Children born after the change had never felt the joy of waking up refreshed, never whispered secrets under blankets at midnight, never asked for just five more minutes in bed. They didn’t understand why lullabies existed or what nightmares were. A new branch of psychology emerged: Nocturnia, a condition where people missed sleep not physically, but emotionally. Therapists began prescribing “dark time”—eight hours a day of stillness, silence, and solitude, mimicking the old sleep cycle. Parents dimmed lights, drew curtains, and asked children to pretend to sleep. Not to rest, but to remember. --- Black Markets and Sleep Clubs Underground movements began to form. People who craved sleep met in hidden basements and blackout rooms. They hired sound engineers to recreate the soothing hum of a fan, or the drip of rain against windows. Some paid scientists for neural “sleep simulations,” downloaded into their minds like black-market dreams. The elite bought hours of fake REM sleep to remember what it once felt like to surrender control. A new drug—Somnia—emerged. It didn't make you sleep, but it created vivid dreams in a conscious state. People took it just to feel tired again. --- The Silence in the Stars Astronomers noticed something curious. With no one sleeping, city lights never dimmed. The stars grew fainter. No one looked up anymore. Before, the quiet hours of the night had belonged to the sky. Now, noise filled every second. There were no more midnight walks. No secret kisses under moonlight. Romance began to fade, not because people stopped loving—but because they stopped pausing. With no night, there was no mystery. Everything was visible, immediate, and lit up. --- The Rebellion of Rest It took years, but the backlash began. A movement called “Return” spread across the globe. It wasn’t anti-science—it was pro-stillness. Returners advocated for rest, reflection, and boundaries. Their motto: “Time is not enough—what we do with it matters.” They closed their shops at sunset. They dimmed their screens. Some even taught themselves to simulate sleep, lying in stillness and letting their minds wander. The world had given up sleep in pursuit of productivity. But people were starting to remember that sleep was never wasted time—it was sacred time. --- Epilogue: In the Quiet I sit now in a quiet room, lights low, Somnia softening the edges of my thoughts. My body will not sleep. It cannot. But my mind can drift. Outside, a child sings a lullaby they don’t understand. Their voice is off-key but gentle, a ghost of the old world echoing in this sleepless one. We thought sleep was just a physical need. But it was more than that. It was the boundary between doing and being. Between surviving and dreaming. And I—like many—have begun to miss it.
By Shafi Ullahabout a year ago in Fiction
A Choice. Top Story - July 2025.
The Choice D. A. Ratliff What do you write on a blank page? Let’s face it, words mean something. Isolated words provide little meaning. They must intertwine to impart thoughts, hopes, wisdom, and sometimes convey emotions, ranging from the darkest pain to the highest joy.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
