Microfiction
The Meeting
The city was slick with rain — the kind that clings to your coat and blurs the edges of the night. Neon signs bled their colours into puddles, flickering like restless ghosts on wet asphalt. The smell of damp concrete mixed with exhaust fumes, hanging heavy in the air like a warning. I kept my eyes on the road, but my mind tuned into the quiet tension resting heavy in the backseat.
By Bentley Brownabout a year ago in Fiction
Maggie's Mind
The vicar rolled his eyes every time Maggie opened her mouth. She spoke her mind for better and for worse. Her sharp tongue and lack of political correctness made her an icon in the village. Because deep down, everyone knew she was a lovely lady in small doses.
By Chloe Gilholyabout a year ago in Fiction
Whispers Beneath the Mango Trees
The First Light of Mango Grove In the gentle warmth of dawn, the first light of the sun crept across the horizon, spilling gold over the lush, dew-drenched fields. The scent of mango blossoms floated on the morning breeze, soft and sweet, stirring the peaceful landscape awake. It was the time when even the birds hesitated to chirp, reverent of the stillness that hovered over the land like a sacred prayer.
By Mukhtiar Ahmadabout a year ago in Fiction
A morning of misunderstanding
It was morning. A kind of orange sun came through the Thai glass of the balcony and made the room sparkle. Shan's room was already filled with orange bedsheets, curtains and carpets. As soon as he woke up, his mood was spoiled. He forgot to draw the curtains of the window last night—such a beautiful sleep was ruined
By Ishrat Jahan about a year ago in Fiction
A Test of Truth: A Short Story About Integrity
The Surprise That Changed Everything It was a misty Friday morning in Greenhill Town. The school bell had just rung, and class 7B at Oakridge School was buzzing with chatter and sleepy yawns. But something unusual was about to happen—something that would test more than just academic skills.
By Ahmad Malikabout a year ago in Fiction
A Resignation Letter
I Ada am resigning from the basement life. It's been two years, but we always knew this day was coming, I no longer want to enter the dark dungeon I called my home, I no longer want to turn on every light in my house just so I can see where I need to sit. I no longer want to let my dog out to the front yar, so he can be tied up to the front railing, I would like him to have a yard; he can roam freely chasing after birds and digging up the yard. It's been great for the first few years of marriage, but basement you have caused me to be sick on too many occasions, the radon and carbon levels are too high and it's best that we part ways. My health is more important than your well being of a basement suite. You have kept me in the dark away from the vitamin D that I deserve. It's cold in our bedroom and I am tired of freezing in the night before my husband joins me in bed, and using my electric blanket. I ma tired of looking outside the window and seeing car tires and the wall of another house. It feels so empty and hollow even though my photos are up on the walls along with his guitars and yet it feels so empty. The walls feel cold int he mid-winter. I am resigning because I don't like going down the stairs to get home, I don't like that my rent keeps going up when you basement suite have not changed a bit. I am now graduating up to a main floor, where I can walk up to the front door, where I do not feel self-conscious inviting a friend over for movie night.
By Adrianna M. Braunabout a year ago in Fiction
Self-Belief Power
Maya always thought she wasn’t meant for great things. From the outside, she seemed like an ordinary person—quiet, cautious, and content to stay in her comfort zone. But inside, a restless voice whispered doubts she had learned to ignore for years.
By Aima Charleabout a year ago in Fiction
