Short Story
“The Last Human on Social Media”
The Last Human on Social Media By [Maya] In the year 2042, social media was no longer social. It was a curated sea of perfection—every post flawlessly written, every image stunning, every comment polite, relevant, optimized. No typos. No awkward pauses. No messy opinions. The platforms were still called the same: Feedr, ThoughtLine, EchoNet. But behind every post was a neural engine. Behind every “I just wanted to share something personal,” there was a paid prompt engineer or a corporate AI model tuned to mimic emotional resonance.
By lony banzaabout a year ago in Fiction
Elle. Content Warning.
In the end it didn’t matter. In the end nothing would. Because in the end, they would never be able to hurt me again. * I knew exactly what I had done. Looking down at the figure below me, everything came rushing back, knocking my breath out of my throat. The warped memories flooded into my mind all at once.
By Kathryn Kluttzabout a year ago in Fiction
The Mysterious Island
By \[Ahmad] We all have that one dream trip — the kind you talk about late at night, half-laughing because it sounds impossible. For me and my best friend, Alex, it was *the island*. Not just any island, but the one shrouded in legends — rumored to hold ancient secrets, lost civilizations, even treasure. We called it the *Mysterious Island*, and for years, it remained just that — a mystery, a dream, an adventure waiting to happen. Until it didn’t. The Call to Adventure Standing on the edge of our small boat, sea mist on my face, I watched the endless blue stretch out like a silent invitation. My heart pounded with a mix of fear and anticipation. “We’re really doing this,” Alex said, grinning. “No turning back now.” He was right. Months of planning, scraping together savings, studying old maps — and now here we were, chasing a legend. Somewhere ahead lay an island that had captivated explorers and skeptics alike. Some called it cursed. Others whispered it was a portal to forgotten worlds. For us, it was freedom. Mystery. A test of spirit. Arrival: The Island Unveiled The island rose on the horizon like something out of a dream — lush, wild, impossibly green. Towering palms waved as if greeting us. The air was thick with the scent of blossoms and something else... something ancient. From the moment we stepped onto the warm sands, we were enchanted. We wandered the coast, exploring hidden coves and strange rock formations that seemed sculpted with intent. But soon the shoreline gave way to something deeper — and stranger. Into the Heart of Mystery The jungle welcomed us with silence. Not the peaceful kind — the kind that presses on your eardrums and makes you whisper without knowing why. We found ruins. Real ones. Crumbling stone structures overtaken by vines and moss, walls marked with symbols no textbook had ever shown us. It felt like walking through the memory of a civilization that had chosen to vanish. Then came the messages — cryptic carvings leading deeper inland, speaking of a temple hidden in the jungle’s heart. That’s when our expedition turned from exploration to obsession. Discovery: The Hidden Temple The journey was grueling. The heat clung to our skin. Machetes cleared our path inch by inch. Just as doubt began to creep in, we stepped into a clearing and there it stood: the temple. It was massive — carved stone, ancient statues, and an energy that seemed to pulse beneath our feet. Reverently, we stepped inside. No words. Just awe. Artifacts filled the halls — tools, devices, relics that defied logic and history. But the true marvel waited in a hidden chamber behind a false wall. Gold, gemstones, scrolls… and something even more valuable: *understanding*. This civilization had not just survived — it had thrived in ways we could barely comprehend. Collapse and Escape We should have known better. The moment we disturbed the centerpiece — a gleaming orb set in an altar — the ground trembled. Walls cracked. Dust choked the air. “Run!” Alex shouted. We barely escaped, the chamber collapsing behind us. Treasure in hand, hearts pounding, we stumbled back into the sunlight, forever changed. The Return Back on the mainland, we were hailed as lucky adventurers — maybe even heroes. But no photo, no artifact, no amount of treasure could capture what that island gave us. Years have passed, but the island still haunts my dreams. Not in fear — in longing. I learned that the greatest treasure wasn’t gold. It was the journey, the friendship, and the lesson that sometimes, the wildest dreams are the ones worth chasing. And somewhere out there, just past the horizon, the mysterious island still waits. --- Author’s Note: If this story stirred your curiosity, inspired your own thirst for adventure, or made you wonder what lies beyond your comfort zone — leave a comment or share your thoughts. Have you ever chased a dream that felt impossible?
By Current affairs about a year ago in Fiction
The Letter I Never Sent
The letter still lies in the drawer, yellowing at the edges, folded with the care of a thousand memories. I wrote it six years ago on a rainy Thursday when the world outside my window felt as heavy as the world inside me. I was 22 then, and hopelessly in love with Ayaan.
By Muhammad Hammadabout a year ago in Fiction
'A Train For Somebody'
Somebody once told me that waiting for things to happen will never equate to success. That ‘Somebody’ also told me that hard work is the only action you can take to get somewhere you want to go. Regardless of what he thought, I took it with a grain of salt.
By John Henryabout a year ago in Fiction
The City Where Everyone Forgets Their Name
No one remembers arriving. The City has no welcome signs, no maps, no borders — just a quiet street that stretches endlessly in both directions, and a thick, humming silence that follows you like a shadow. Everyone here is... pleasant. Gentle smiles. Hollow eyes. Voices like distant echoes. But no one remembers who they were before. They say your name is the first thing to go. It starts with forgetting how to sign it. Then you hesitate when introducing yourself. Soon, it’s not just your name — it’s the birthday that used to matter, the address you called home, the song that always made you cry. People here don’t panic when they forget. That’s the strange part. They shrug, smile faintly, and say, “Maybe it wasn’t important anyway.” I wasn’t like them. Not at first. I woke up on a park bench with a ringing in my ears and a journal in my lap. Just one entry: “Don’t forget who you are. Fight the forgetting.” It was my handwriting, I was sure of it. But no name signed beneath it. For weeks, I wandered the City, clutching that journal like a lifeline. I asked people questions. Where are we? Why can’t we leave? Who are you? They would tilt their heads and smile like I’d told a joke they couldn’t quite remember the punchline to. Then one day, I met a man who claimed he almost remembered. He was sitting on the edge of the fountain in the center of the city, eyes fixed on the water as if it held his reflection from a life long buried. His coat was worn, but his gaze was sharp — sharper than the rest. “I think I was a teacher,” he whispered. “A teacher?” I asked, my heart tightening. “What did you teach?” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. But I still dream about chalkboards and empty desks. It feels... important.” I showed him my journal. He blinked down at the page. “Fight the forgetting,” he read aloud. “Yes... yes, that sounds right.” That night, I dreamed of a woman with sunlit hair and the scent of lavender. She called me something — something soft, something familiar. But when I woke, the name vanished like breath on glass. The forgetting had started. My journal began to feel heavier in my hands, like it was the only proof I still existed. I wrote down dreams, flashes of memories, the man by the fountain, the sound of lavender. Every detail, no matter how small. Then the City began to change. The streets, once calm, started to shift. Signs appeared in strange symbols. People walked in loops, repeating the same sentences. I watched as the man from the fountain sat on the same bench, day after day, his face slowly losing its spark. One morning, he didn’t remember me. “Do I know you?” he asked, kindly, with an emptiness that nearly broke me. I wanted to scream. To shake the City until it gave me back my name, my past, my truth. Instead, I wrote: “Even if I forget everything, I will remember that I wanted to remember.” And somehow, that kept the fog from swallowing me whole. Not long after, I found a doorway. It wasn’t grand or glowing. Just a plain wooden door at the edge of an alley I swear hadn’t existed the day before. A small plaque above it read: "Only those who still know they’ve forgotten may pass." My hands trembled as I reached for the handle. I didn’t know my name. I didn’t know where I came from. But I knew I had lost something. And I still wanted it back. That was enough. The door creaked open. Behind it — light. Not blinding, but soft. Familiar. Like the lavender-scented woman. Like the sound of my own name whispered from a distant childhood. I stepped through. The City did not disappear. It stayed, for others. But for me — for the one who kept remembering to remember — the forgetting ended. And as I walked forward, the first thing that came back to me was this: I had never truly been alone.
By Firdos Jamalabout a year ago in Fiction
Whispers from the Locked Door. AI-Generated.
Emma had always been drawn to old houses. Their stories felt like silent companions, waiting patiently to be uncovered. When she found the quaint Victorian on Maple Street, she knew she had to have it — despite the quirks, the creaky floorboards, and especially the locked door at the end of the hallway.
By Yasir Nawazabout a year ago in Fiction
Missing
Cries of Kara rang out in the night. Their sound lingered ominously between the trees. Feet moving through the dark forest sent up a chorus of crunching pine needles. Hearts beat faster in chests with nervous feelings. Eyes darted into the shadows. Searching for what was lost, hoping not to discover what was feared.
By The Invisible Writerabout a year ago in Fiction
