Short Story
Five Minutes in the Future
Five Minutes in the Future “A Glimpse Beyond Time and the Secrets It Holds” Ethan Cole was a man obsessed with time. Not time management, not wristwatches or calendars—time itself. He was a researcher at a small, underfunded lab tucked behind a university campus, working on a project that no one took seriously: a device that could send signals into the future.
By Muhammad Azeemullahabout a year ago in Fiction
Chrysalis. Content Warning.
The faint sound of water dripping pierces the chilled air of the cave, echoing like a clock in its cavernous throat. A grand space, the mouth opens wide, revealing a nearly empty chamber decorated with slick stones and a small pool of water in the center. Complementing the interior of the cave lies a stone slab in the corner, the stage of a makeshift workshop. The workshop held a pieced-together mess.
By Roman Haleabout a year ago in Fiction
The Emptiness Engine
The monastery of the Void Chapter was the quietest place in the known universe. It hung in the silence between stars, a simple asteroid hollowed out by centuries of meditation. Here, the monks practiced the Art of Release. They believed the cosmos was drowning in a cacophony of creation—a violent, wasteful struggle for more energy, more matter, more stuff.
By Habibullahabout a year ago in Fiction
Little Lamb. Content Warning.
The priest smiles at the sea of Sunday School students, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his crooked nose. The children range in age from 5 years old to 10 years old. After a brief pause, Father Jacob begins his introduction.
By Roman Haleabout a year ago in Fiction
Whispers Beneath the Old Oak
The old oak tree had been standing in the town square for generations. People carved their names into its bark, lovers left promises beneath its branches, children played in its shade. For Lily, it wasn’t just a tree—it was where she had met James, one warm summer afternoon ten years ago.
By Mahboob Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Letter in the Drawer
Emma never thought love would come quietly. She used to imagine it would be loud, like fireworks, or at least dramatic enough to sweep her off her feet. But the evening she met Daniel, there were no fireworks. Just a bookstore, the smell of old paper, and a stranger with kind eyes who asked if she had ever read the novel he was holding.
By Mahboob Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
Pantheon of the Discarded
“The silence of things is not empty – it is a chorus of what we have forsaken.” The Reading Room had not been entered in years. Dust clothed the air in a gauzy hush, drifting like a patient spirit. A draft whispered through a crack in the wall, carrying the faint scent of rain, as though the outside world strained to remind the room of its forgotten kinship with earth and sky. The fluorescent lights, when they finally stuttered awake, hummed with sterile insistence. The space felt less like a room and more like a reliquary — a vault where time itself had been left to stiffen and settle.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzalesabout a year ago in Fiction
