Love

The Last Love Letter
In the attic of a small, creaky house, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the world, lay a trunk filled with old letters. The letters were tied with a faded ribbon, the once-vibrant pink now dulled to a soft blush. The address on the top envelope read: "For My Beloved, Forever and Always".
By Muhammad Kashif 11 months ago in Fiction
My Abuela's Comal
The first time I met my Abuela’s comal, I was eight. I watched my mother, my stern-faced Abuela, and that black iron plate as they made tortillas for dinner. Flour floated in the air like fog. My mother’s hair stuck to her cheeks with sweat.
By Sandor Szabo11 months ago in Fiction
Trump — No Tie Guy
It was June when I visited my fiancée in Japan. We still couldn’t decide whether to live there or in the States — and I had just started learning Japanese, often hearing things completely wrong. She showed me temples, gardens, and glowing city streets, clearly trying to seduce me into staying.
By Erian Lin Grant11 months ago in Fiction
Day Two: Two Turtle Doves
It began, as these things often did, with an email. Your order is out for delivery! Estimated arrival: between 7:00 AM and 10:00 PM.
By Stephen Stanley11 months ago in Fiction
The Princess Who Walked on the Moon
Princess Elara’s world was a gilded cage. Her life was a meticulously scheduled tapestry of state dinners, embroidery lessons, and waving from balconies. Her kingdom was a beautiful, smothering jewel, and she was its most prized possession, locked safely inside. Her only escape was the royal observatory, where she would chart the constellations and dream of the one place her royal guards could not follow: the Moon.
By Habibullah11 months ago in Fiction
How I Stopped Comparing Myself to Others
I used to measure my worth by other people’s timelines. If someone got a new job, I wondered why I hadn’t. If a friend posted travel photos, I questioned why my life seemed so ordinary.
By Manal11 months ago in Fiction
The Call of the Minaret
The early sun had just started to rise from behind the house tops of Medina when Bilal woke up. The air was still cool and heavy with the smell of sand and date palms. For a moment, he listened to the faint sounds of the city waking -- the distant bleating of goats, the clatter of water pots and the quiet hum of life returning after the silence of the night.
By Nusuki11 months ago in Fiction
The Light of the Desert
And the wind sang along the dunes, and Malik took a brush against his shabby cloak, and the desert sand was like tiny sparks on his face. This was hours of walking on part of him, in pursuit of the horizon that kept on pushing away. The sun was now setting, and coloured the sky with fire and gold.
By Nusuki11 months ago in Fiction
Secret Haven
Secret Haven Written by Ann Garza Climbing the stairs to what will be my office/library/escape from reality room, I feel each step getting heavier. I was supposed to have help from my family and friends, but at the last minute, they all had “this came up last minute” things, or as I like to say, more important to them things. The house was still new to me, and I had promised not to work on any repairs in the room without at least one person with me as I tend to be accident prone. But, since they all bailed on me, I decided to go back on my word and head up to that room with a vacuum and cleaning supplies. Once I was certain I had everything needed to at least tidy the room up some, I sat on the floor in the middle of the room so I could decide on new paint colors and if I wanted to keep the laminate flooring or replace it with something else. Something more comfortable like thick, soft and plush carpet to the match the new wall colors. I had a few ideas in mind, but I knew I needed to clean the room and the 2 walk-in closets to get a better idea.
By "Ann Garza"11 months ago in Fiction
Aventine Hill. Top Story - November 2025.
"I can't see anything James. Like, nothing. It's literally black." "Pull your eye back a bit babe- you're probably too close." came the careful reply, launched up and over the white brick that separated them.
By Joe O’Connor11 months ago in Fiction
The Weight of Memories. AI-Generated.
As I walked away from the house, the fading light of the sun cast long shadows across the neighborhood. I felt a sense of peace wash over me, as if the weight of memories I'd carried for so long had finally begun to lift. The conversation with Mrs. Jenkins had been a balm to my soul, and I was grateful for her kindness.
By Muhammad Kashif 11 months ago in Fiction
The Missing Brick
I saw through your eyes, in a dream. I saw something throw a new moon at the sun, and push it away from your world. Your planet was saved from consumption by a burgeoning sun, but thrown into a cold darkness.
By A. S. Lawrence11 months ago in Fiction