Microfiction
The Quest of Eternal Mortality
On Survival The question of existence still haunts me in the silence of the stillness that loneliness brings with it. To be or not to be, to exist in the coexistence of dualistic forces, to dance with the uncertainty or to play it along the periphery, what I hold certain, has always questioned me, bemoaned me. Truth be told, I beheld the cry for help when its absence called in silent whispers around the blanket of dwelling and absconded its abundant presence over me. There is a painting that traces the bits of serenity in my life, the colors that adorn the hues of the almighty run deep through the veins of my soul to find the brevity of pain. I glance at the picture of Lord Krishna, reminiscing the days that passed by. Darkness sets its sterility in the brimming light of today, as the dawn of today paints itself in the colours of the dusk of yesterday.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Fiction
The Ghostly Love of Princess Molly.
In a realm covered in fog and secret, there carried on with a princess named Molly. She was famous for her excellence as well as for her generosity and intelligence. Her dad, Ruler Elric, had safeguarded the realm for a long time, avoiding dangers with his sharp psyche and vital ability. However, no measure of shrewdness or strength might have arranged Molly for the romantic tale that was going to unfurl.
By borsha afrin302 years ago in Fiction
The Magical Books.
In the curious town of Eldergrove, settled at the edge of an old woodland, stood a genuine bookshop called "Murmuring Pages." Its wooden sign squeaked delicately in the breeze, and the ivy-clad stone walls appeared to murmur with mysteries. The shop was possessed by a cryptic elderly person named Elara, whose dark green eyes held a sparkle of realizing that made guests keep thinking about whether she find out about them than they did about themselves.
By borsha afrin302 years ago in Fiction
The Painted Nail
Small bottles rattle, so she places them gently into her lab coat's pockets wrapped inside thin swaths of cotton mesh. Her aging femme fatale face reveals her plans, were anyone in the lab to catch her just now. But she's alone. Alone with her thoughts, and the lab's sterile equipment, and all these panels, gadgets and dials.
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Fiction
The Flamingo Lounge. Top Story - May 2024.
Lola heard the footsteps from the hallway as she sat in her dressing room. She stared straight ahead at her reflection. Her lips had grown thin and her wrinkles had grown deep. The Flamingo Lounge had seen better days and so had she.
By D.K. Shepard2 years ago in Fiction
