Short Story

Greedy businessman
A merchant had seven sons but no daughter. This merchant was so greedy and miserly that he never gave a single rupee to the poor and the needy. He loved money more than anything else.
By Abid Nazariabout a year ago in Fiction
The Depths
The freezing waters surround my entire body as me and the others descend into the depths. All sound seems to disappear when we dive below the surface. Our vision also worsens the longer we dive deeper into these dangerous depths. We have to bring back something, anything for our families back home. This is our last chance. These past few weeks have been unforgiving, cruel and merciless. Either the waters were infested with the big greys or there was no life when we arrived to gather. It is only now that we have managed to find an opening where there is sustenance to gather without the big greys being around, but that wont last forever so we have to move fast. If we don't make it out in time, not only will we surely die, our families will surely too. After swimming for what feels like hours we finally make it down to what we came for, the small herd. We start grabbing as many of them as we can, finally we will make it through another day. We stuff our breaks full of them until they feel like they're about to break from the sheer weight of our bounty. It is excruciating with holding this many, but we wont know when we will get an opportunity like this again. The depths are hard to see in, the darkness clouds our vision until we are practically blind, but we manage to gather a bountiful harvest. I can’t wait to return to the surface, I have never liked being down here for longer than necessary, it strips you off nearly all your senses and leaves your mind to imagine the worst. We start making our way up to the surface, but I can't help but feel like something is off, is the group smaller than before? I can’t worry about such things at the moment. I have to make it back to my family, so that my wife and child can live another day. Oh the euphoria, I can’t wait to see the smiles on their faces. I also can't wait to escape these dark depths, it’s so suffocating down here. How I already miss the cold and hard feeling of the white planes underneath my feet, as they sink into the planes. The thrill of a successful hunt is fantastic, the water rushing by my ears, as I can see the surface becoming closer, knowing that I succeed in bringing back a harvest for my family. The glorious feeling of the warmth hitting my entire body after this long dive in these freezing depths is divine, is something I can hardly wait to feel again.
By SackPackthrillsabout a year ago in Fiction
Dodge and the Elemental Water Ale
All feeling in Dodge’s legs vanished as he, with a full body shiver, stepped forth into the suddenly shockingly frigid waters of the Serpent's Teeth, sinking up to his knee before he whimpered in a manly fashion as his teeth tried to escape his jaws and chatter their way to shore. Cold? Arctic? Glacial? He'd been warned that the water temperatures here were unusually cold. And he'd prepared accordingly, or so he thought. But even after having downed a potion of Warmth, the freezing waters still leached his bodyheat in a fraction of a second.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)about a year ago in Fiction
Nyx Sweetveil - The Shadowed Justice
The city of Cradlebrook breathed under the moonlight, a sprawling labyrinth of alleys, hidden corridors, and towering spires where power exchanged hands not by sword or spell, but through veiled whispers and unseen dealings. The monsters hunted and terrorized within the kingdom’s borders, clawing at its lands, but within the walls and halls of the capital, it was corruption that threatened to unravel the throne.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)about a year ago in Fiction
The Promise I Made to a Stranger
I wasn’t planning to be at the train station that day. A canceled meeting and a delayed phone call led me there—just me, my notebook, and too many thoughts buzzing in my mind. The benches were mostly empty, except for a woman with silver hair and kind eyes. She looked like someone’s grandmother, waiting patiently with a brown leather bag clutched in her lap.
By Izazkhanabout a year ago in Fiction
When Steel Learned to Dream
The first time ARI-7 saw the sky, it didn’t know how to describe the color blue. It simply logged the data: Wavelength 450–495 nanometers. Sky clarity: 97%. Radiation level: safe. Threat level: null.
By Asif Nawazabout a year ago in Fiction
Echoes of Feeling
In the year 2084, humanity stopped speaking in full sentences. There was no longer a need to. With NeuroCast, people could upload emotions directly from their cerebral cortex to a global cloud called The Resonance. Joy, heartbreak, grief, longing- all digitized, shared, and consumed. You didn’t just say “I’m sad”- you let someone feel it, pulse for pulse, neuron for neuron. For artists, it was liberation. For marketers, a goldmine. For therapists, a revolution.
By Emma Adeabout a year ago in Fiction
Gossamer | 404
The fog had teeth. An ominous shroud covering the part had once been filled with joy and hope. It curled in slow, deliberate coils over the cracked asphalt, swallowing signs, trees, and silence itself. Through it, a gate emerged, half rust, half memory. The letters once read “Kaufman Amusements,” but now only a few remained, crooked and glinting.
By M.R. Cameoabout a year ago in Fiction
Are You a God?
It felt like a big break through, at first. Realising who these people were, I mean. It's a funny thing, being surrounded by people you created. I'm not saying I'm a god or anything. But.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
Respect the Chemistry
By sitting on the gurney, Mamet Holt could see the police officer’s dishwater gray eyes. “Where are you from?” Holt held his tongue. He almost bit it. In fact, he did. A trickle of blood ran over his gum, creating a metallic taste.
By Skyler Saundersabout a year ago in Fiction
The Chef's Kiss. Top Story - June 2025.
When I met Gord, I thought the dating gods had finally thrown me a bone — or at least a very tender sous-vide filet. He was a real chef, not just one of those "I make a mean grilled cheese" types. Actual whites, actual restaurant, actual ability to pronounce “mirepoix” without spraining his tongue. And he was tall, dark and the spitting image of Alex Rodriguez. Our first two dates? Glorious. Witty banter, delicious food, eye contact that lingered just a beat too long. I was smitten. And probably slightly protein-deficient from eating only appetizers to seem dainty.
By S.E.Linnabout a year ago in Fiction
FROM FEAR TO CURIOSITY (English and Italian versions)
When I was a child, I loved walking through the forest. I felt strong in the thrill of the fear that came from its gloom, its darkness, and mystery—feelings that were always contrasted by my own courage, which never stopped me from walking through it.
By Giada Gali about a year ago in Fiction