Love

Always
Part 1 - Who Is He? Carlene Haiden is the only sister of Matthias Ryker, and she has secretly held feelings for Alaric Cort, her brother’s best friend. Alaric used to visit their home often during school years, but one day, he vanished without a trace—right after Carlene confessed her love through a letter.
By HazelnutLatteaabout a year ago in Fiction
Mirror’s Jealous Whisper
art writing... Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, a beautiful queen sat by her window, sewing on a winter’s day. As she stitched, she pricked her finger, and three drops of blood fell on the snow that had gathered on the black windowsill. Looking at the red blood on the white snow, she said, “I wish I had a daughter with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony.” A year later, her wish came true. She gave birth to a beautiful baby girl with snow-white skin, ruby-red lips, and hair as black as night. The queen named her Snow White, but sadly, she died shortly after the birth. The king remarried, and his new queen was beautiful but cruel and vain. She owned a magical mirror, and every day she would ask it: “Mirror, mirror on the wall, Who is the fairest of them all?” The mirror would always reply, “You, my queen, are the fairest of them all.” But as Snow White grew older, her beauty became unmatched. One day, the mirror replied: “You, my queen, are fair; it’s true. But Snow White is even fairer than you.” Enraged with jealousy, the queen ordered a huntsman to take Snow White deep into the forest and kill her. She demanded proof—Snow White’s heart. But when the huntsman raised his knife, he looked into the girl’s innocent eyes and couldn’t do it. “Run, Snow White,” he whispered. “Run and never return.” She fled through the dark forest, where shadows twisted and creatures howled. Finally, exhausted, she found a tiny cottage nestled in the woods. Inside, everything was small—tiny chairs, tiny bowls, tiny beds. She lay down on one of the beds and fell into a deep sleep. When the owners returned, seven dwarfs with kind eyes and cheerful voices, they were surprised to find a young girl sleeping in their home. “Who is she?” asked one. “She looks frightened,” said another. Snow White awoke and told them her story. The dwarfs offered her a safe home. “You can stay here, but don’t open the door to anyone,” they warned. “The queen will find you if she can.” Meanwhile, the queen returned to her mirror and asked again: “Mirror, mirror on the wall, Who is the fairest of them all?” The mirror answered, “Snow White, who lives with the seven dwarfs in the forest, is the fairest of them all.” Furious, the queen disguised herself as an old peddler woman and set out to find Snow White. She knocked on the dwarfs’ cottage door. “Pretty girl,” she croaked, “Would you like to try this lovely lace bodice?” Snow White, seeing only a kind old woman, let her in. But as the queen pulled the lace tight, Snow White couldn’t breathe and collapsed. The queen smiled wickedly and left her there. That evening, the dwarfs returned and found Snow White lying motionless. They quickly cut the lace, and she gasped for air. “The queen will try again,” they warned. “Be careful.” But the queen tried again. Disguised with magic, she returned with a poisoned comb. “This will make your hair shine like the sun,” she said. Snow White accepted it, and as soon as the comb touched her head, she fainted once more. Again, the dwarfs arrived just in time and removed the comb. Finally, the queen created a deadly red apple, poisoned with a single bite. Disguised again, she returned and offered it to Snow White. “It’s a special apple,” she said. “Half is for me, half is for you.” To prove it wasn’t poisoned, the queen bit the harmless side. Snow White, trusting her, bit the other half and instantly fell into a deathlike sleep. This time, nothing could wake her. The dwarfs were heartbroken. They placed her in a glass coffin in the woods, believing she was too beautiful to bury. Seasons changed, but Snow White remained still, like a sleeping doll. One day, a prince came riding through the forest. When he saw her, he was struck by her beauty. “Let me take her to my kingdom,” he asked the dwarfs, “so she can rest in peace.” As the prince’s servants lifted the coffin, they stumbled. The piece of poisoned apple lodged in Snow White’s throat dislodged, and she coughed and awoke, confused but alive. The prince was overjoyed. “You’re alive!” he cried. “I thought I had lost you forever.” Snow White smiled and thanked the dwarfs for saving her. She and the prince returned to his kingdom, where they were married in a grand celebration. The wicked queen, hearing of the royal wedding, asked her mirror again: “Mirror, mirror on the wall, Who is the fairest of them all?” And the mirror replied, “The new queen, Snow White, is the fairest of them all.” The wicked queen, filled with rage and shame, vanished into the mountains, never to be seen again. And Snow White and the prince lived happily ever after.
By Mushtaq Aliabout a year ago in Fiction
"The Power of Kindness"
art writing... Once upon a time, deep in the heart of a vast forest, there lived a mighty lion. The lion was known far and wide for his strength, his golden mane, and his regal presence. All the animals of the forest respected him and feared his roar. One warm afternoon, the lion decided to take a break from his usual hunt and rest beneath a large, shady tree. He stretched out on the soft grass, letting the cool breeze rustle his mane as he closed his eyes to nap. In the same forest, a tiny mouse was busy running through the underbrush. The mouse was a creature of habit and often scurried around, gathering food, or exploring new places. On that particular day, he was in such a hurry that he didn’t notice where he was going. As he hurried along, he accidentally ran right over the lion’s back. The lion woke with a start, his massive paws springing into action. He grabbed the mouse with his large claws, holding it in the air. The tiny mouse trembled in fear as he looked up at the giant beast, certain he would be eaten. "Please, mighty lion!" the mouse pleaded, his voice shaking with fear. "Please don’t eat me! I didn’t mean to disturb you. If you let me go, I promise I will repay your kindness someday!" The lion, still half-asleep and curious about the tiny creature’s plea, looked at the mouse with an amused expression. He could not understand how such a small creature could pose any threat, so he decided to show mercy. The lion released the mouse and gently set him down on the ground. "I’m letting you go because I believe your plea is sincere," the lion said, his voice deep and rumbling. "But remember, little one, it is not wise to run around recklessly in the presence of a lion." The mouse, still shaking but now filled with gratitude, bowed his little head. "Thank you, mighty lion! You will not regret your decision. I will never forget this act of kindness." With that, the mouse quickly scampered away, and the lion settled back down to finish his nap. The lion couldn’t help but smile at the small creature’s bravery and thoughtfulness. He was not used to such interactions with creatures so small, but he didn’t dwell on it long. The forest was full of animals, and life went on. Days passed, and the lion went about his usual routine. One morning, while he was out roaming the forest in search of food, he became entangled in a hunter’s trap. The trap, designed to capture large animals, had snapped shut around his leg. The lion roared in pain and struggled to free himself, but the more he struggled, the tighter the trap became. The sound of the lion’s roars echoed through the forest, and many animals heard it, but none dared approach. The lion was the king of the jungle, and though he was in pain, none of the smaller creatures dared to come to his aid. The lion continued to roar, helpless and frustrated, his strength unable to break free from the ropes that bound him. Meanwhile, the little mouse was foraging nearby. He heard the lion’s roars and knew something was wrong. Despite his tiny size, the mouse was determined to help. Without a second thought, he followed the sound of the lion’s distress and soon found the trapped beast. The mouse approached cautiously, his heart racing, but he did not hesitate. "Mighty lion, I’m here to help!" he called out, his tiny voice full of determination. The lion, surprised to see the mouse again, looked down at him. "You? How could you help me? I’m too large and strong for someone like you to help," the lion said, his voice tinged with doubt. But the mouse was undeterred. "I may be small, but I can still help you. Just trust me," the mouse replied. The lion, desperate and in pain, had no choice but to trust the mouse. The tiny creature scurried to the ropes that bound the lion and began gnawing at them with his sharp teeth. It was hard work, and the mouse had to work quickly, but he was determined. With each bite, the ropes began to loosen. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the mouse chewed through the last of the ropes, and the lion was free. The lion stood up, stretching his sore leg, and looked down at the mouse in astonishment. "You did it!" the lion exclaimed. "You saved me, little one. I never would have believed that someone so small could help me in such a way. I owe you my life." The mouse smiled, his eyes twinkling. "You showed me kindness when I was in need, and now I have returned the favor. Even the smallest of creatures can make a big difference." The lion’s heart was full of gratitude, and he realized something important. Strength was not only about size or power. It was also about compassion, kindness, and helping others when they needed it most. The lion had learned that day that even the smallest act of kindness could have a profound impact. From that day on, the lion and the mouse became the best of friends. They spent time together in the forest, helping each other and sharing their wisdom. The lion learned to be humble, and the mouse learned that even the tiniest of beings could make a difference in the world. The animals of the forest often watched in awe as the lion and the mouse walked side by side, knowing that true strength lay not in power, but in kindness, understanding, and mutual respect. --- Moral of the Story: Even the smallest act of kindness can make a big difference. No matter how powerful or weak we may seem, every creature has something valuable to offer. True strength comes from compassion and respect for one another.
By Mushtaq Aliabout a year ago in Fiction
Defeating Divorce
Part 1: The Fracture The silence in the kitchen was not just the absence of words; it was the echo of a love unraveling. Angela stirred her coffee without drinking it. Across from her sat Mark, flipping through the news on his phone, though he hadn’t read a word. The tension wasn’t new—it had grown like ivy, slow and stubborn, over the past three years. What began as petty arguments had calcified into emotional distance. Angela finally broke the silence. Do you think we’re still in love? she asked, her voice flat. Mark didn’t look up. I don’t know.
By Sarwar Zebabout a year ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Starlit Void
In the distant reaches of the Andromeda Galaxy, where stars burned with secrets older than time, a group of cosmic wanderers gathered on the edge of the Starlit Void. They wore shimmering robes that mirrored the nebulae above, their faces illuminated by the ethereal glow of a dying star. Among them was Kael, a young seeker with eyes that held the weight of countless questions. For generations, their people, the Aetherborn, had whispered of a forgotten realm—a place where the universe's deepest truths were hidden, guarded by celestial entities known as the Whispering Ones.
By Aalyan Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
What Love Truly Means
This photo was made to laugh....👇 Some girls said "Eya" when the man was insulting them.... I couldn't imagine.... I thought what can love do.....
By Rohitha Lankaabout a year ago in Fiction
From the Street to My Heart
A True Story of Unexpected Friendship and Unconditional Love” It was a chilly Wednesday afternoon when I first saw him. The city streets were unusually quiet, painted in the soft grey of an overcast sky. I had just finished a long day at work and was walking home, earbuds in, scarf wrapped tight, when something made me stop.
By k zarmalabout a year ago in Fiction
My Brother Passed Away in 1999. Last Night, He Sent Me a Text.
My Brother Passed Away in 1999. Last Night, He Sent Me a Text. I sat there for a minute, staring at the screen, my coffee growing cold in my cup. The message was brief: "Meet me where we buried the watch." No number. No contact name. But I knew that phrase like a scar—I was eleven when my brother whispered it to me the day before the accident. The day his car went off that cliff in 1999. We never found his body. We never found the watch. And now, twenty-six years later, my dead brother was texting me from a number that didn’t exist.
By Get Richabout a year ago in Fiction
Inside Section E : where silence screams
Huhh ! section E , I love this Philippines drama so much that I want to make you all feel the same , I am so obsessed with this drama . So I will share a glimpse of this drama and that glimpse will be full of twist , And image how that drama will going to be .
By umajyoti Dabout a year ago in Fiction
Young and Bountiful Girl
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the fields of wildflowers that stretched endlessly in every direction. There, amidst the fragrant blooms and whispering winds, lived a girl who embodied youth, beauty, and all the hope that the world had to offer.
By Rohullahabout a year ago in Fiction
"The Price of Love"
It was the night before New Year’s Eve, and the city bustled with the final rush of shoppers clinging to their last-minute hopes of joy. The snow had only just started to fall, lacing the air with a hush that made even the clamor of the streetcars seem distant. In a small second-floor apartment at the edge of the city, Anna paced the narrow room, her fingers absently twisting the hem of her coat. She had counted the money three times: seven dollars and twenty-four cents. It hadn’t grown. She sat by the window, watching the flakes descend through the glow of the streetlamps, and thought of her husband, Thomas. A year had passed since their wedding, and although life had not given them much in the way of money, it had filled their days with laughter, shared coffee in chipped mugs, and the quiet joy of two people perfectly content in each other’s company. Thomas was a writer—or he would be, if anyone paid him for his words. He worked at a local print shop, binding books by hand, the scent of ink and paper lingering on his coat each evening when he returned home. But Anna knew he dreamed bigger. He spoke often of publishing his own stories, of someday owning a fine fountain pen—something he said a true writer deserved. Anna had often dreamed, too. She dreamed of the simple things: a kitchen with a working stove, perhaps a small painting above their bed. But mostly, she dreamed of seeing Thomas's eyes light up with that boyish wonder that first made her fall in love with him. Tomorrow was their anniversary, and she had nothing to give him. Nothing but love—and that, she thought bitterly, didn’t come in a box or with a ribbon. She stood suddenly and went to the mirror. Her eyes lingered on her hair. It was long, chestnut brown, and thick—her best feature, Thomas always said. She had never cut it, not since she was a child. But now, a reckless idea formed. Two hours later, Anna returned with trembling hands and a thinner braid. Her hair, now cut just below her chin, was wrapped in a scarf beneath her coat. In her pocket was a small, blue velvet box. She had sold her hair to a wig-maker for twenty dollars—just enough. Inside the box was a gleaming silver fountain pen, engraved with the words “To My Storyteller.” It was elegant and weighty, a writer’s pen, the kind Thomas had once admired in a shop window without realizing she’d noticed. She was nervous now. Would he mind her hair? Would he be angry she had sold it? The door creaked open, and Thomas stepped inside, brushing snow from his shoulders. He froze when he saw her. For a moment, silence passed between them like a shadow. “Your hair…” he whispered. She smiled, lifting her chin bravely. “It’ll grow back.” He walked to her slowly and cupped her cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “Always.” Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a small, flat package, wrapped in newspaper and tied with string. “I—I got you something.” She opened it carefully. Inside was a set of ornate ivory hair combs, inlaid with tiny blue stones—the ones she had admired months ago in the jeweler’s window. Her hands trembled as she held them. “But… my hair…”
By Arfooabout a year ago in Fiction
The Shadow Between Worlds
Chapter 1: Whispers of the Veil The crystalline spires of Aethel, the Realm of Eternal Light, shimmered under a sky that had lately grown dim. For centuries, Aethel had basked in perpetual luminescence, its magic drawn from the very essence of order and life. But now, a creeping chill, a subtle dimming, whispered of a fractured realm. Princess Elara, her silver hair a cascade against her azure robes, felt it more keenly than most. Her lineage was tied to the Wellspring of Aethel, the source of its elemental power, and its fading pulse was a sickness in her own soul.
By Sarwar Zebabout a year ago in Fiction