Satire

The Ogilvy’s Oracle
“Open with fire.” “Open with fire.” Sheila woke up with the open book still beside her. “Aghh... I must have fallen asleep while reading last night,” she muttered to herself.
By Aisyah Hani2 years ago in Fiction
The Devil’s Interrogation
It was the summer of eighteen forty seven, and I’d just sold a row of Fifth Avenue Mansions to Ms. Wilcox, one of the wealthiest women in New York City.
By Alex H Mittelman 2 years ago in Fiction
The Ghost in the Shadows
It's now late. The pulsating heartbeat of the city can be heard through the fissures in the pavement, pulsating against the walls of buildings that have witnessed more deaths than lives. Through the shroud of cigarette smoke that envelops me like a comfortable cloak, I am able to hear the buzz of neon lights flashing all around me. I inhale deeply, the smoke enveloping my lungs and escaping into the darkness, leaving behind a taste of remorse and experiences from the past.
By QuirkTales2 years ago in Fiction
Middle Imperial
“I maintain that you are wrong!” “Yes so you say, yet I notice a distinct lack of contravening evidence.” “Evidence, bah! You claim to wish that I present evidence, yet your positions are presented axiomatically. I say that you must better defend yourself, rather.”
By Alexander McEvoy2 years ago in Fiction
Mansplaining On A Tight Schedule. Top Story - January 2025.
It’s time to go. Can you get off your elliptical machine? I just need 10 minutes more to reach my target heart rate. Can you please not push that–
By Scott Christenson🌴2 years ago in Fiction
A Symphony of Souls
In the heart of Vienna, where cobblestone streets hummed with the echoes of centuries-old music, lived Clara Weiss, a gifted violinist. Her music was her language, speaking the words she could never voice. Each note she played told stories of longing and hope, resonating through the grand halls of the conservatory where she practiced endlessly. Yet, despite the applause and admiration, Clara's soul felt incomplete, as if a missing melody lingered just beyond her reach.
By Himansu Kumar Routray2 years ago in Fiction
The Last Door
In the heart of a desolate mountain range stood an ancient fortress, long abandoned and eroded by centuries of wind and snow. Legend spoke of a hidden chamber within, sealed by the last door—a portal none dared open. For generations, adventurers had searched for it, driven by whispers of untold power and eternal knowledge. None had returned.
By Himansu Kumar Routray2 years ago in Fiction
The Mapmaker’s Secret Compass
In the heart of a bustling port city named Harrowmere, where cobblestone streets echoed with merchants' shouts and the salty breeze carried tales from distant lands, lived an enigmatic mapmaker named Eleanora Finch. Known for her intricate maps that captured not only geography but the very essence of the lands they depicted, Eleanora was a recluse, her workshop tucked in a narrow alley shadowed by towering warehouses.
By Sibgha2 years ago in Fiction
Free Speech. Top Story - January 2025.
When they say that nothing is free, they obviously mean the following: nothing except for free speech, an indisputable privilege of a democratic community that we’ve been lucky to build over the centuries of grueling toil. It’s just that some things are implied but not spoken out loud. So, free speech is free by definition. I — a well-educated young man, brought up with a sharp sense of justice, distaste for rudeness, and a certain feeling of responsibility for what we, human beings, so to speak supreme representatives of the Animal kingdom, are to leave behind us on this planet — I well knew this unspoken rule, this recognized by all right to speak up and to be heard. Imagine my surprise, my indignation, when I learned first-hand that when they say nothing is free, this is exactly what they mean, and there is no exception from this rule, and there are no hidden, implicit implications; sorry for this tautology.
By Andrei Z.2 years ago in Fiction
Freedom or Fire, Future's Precursor
To anyone who may wish to listen, I am writing this when I should be focusing on the future. Weaving words I've picked up from here and there into a stuttered, not quite paradisaic, but hope-filled future. Two stories are on my mind that are begging to be told. But, my mind is fried. For the moment at least. My mind can't cope with weaving words... into a stuttered, realistic if still fanciful take on the future. The future we all have ahead of us. I will get there, but for now I am writing this ridiculous poem. A stab in the dark at clearing my mind a little, as I cough up all kinds of muck from my lungs and try to stay focused. I see various railway stations in my mind, a catastrophic ending of life in each around the world at the same time, relative to time zones. London Waterloo I was defeated, you won the war
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Fiction
Zoë Saldaña’s Golden Moment: An Emotional First Win at the Golden Globes
In a career spanning decades and countless iconic roles, Zoë Saldaña achieved a monumental milestone that left her visibly emotional and deeply moved. At the 81st Golden Globe Awards, the 46-year-old star, beloved for her versatility and magnetic on-screen presence, took home her first-ever Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actress in a Musical/Comedy. This honor, a testament to her talent and dedication, was for her role in a critically acclaimed project that showcased her depth as an artist.
By mureed hussain2 years ago in Fiction
Vriyana - The yarn of eternal beauty that in its light found its strength
To all the dreamers, this one's for you. To the ones who cry under the tap, to the ones who wish upon the stars, keep hoping. You never know when the universe will listen to your whispers.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Fiction