Short Story

The Witch of Hollow Lane
The House at the End of the Lane: Hollow Lane wasn’t like other streets. Tucked between two ordinary neighborhoods, it was a place where the air hummed with something unseen—where the trees whispered secrets when the wind blew just right. And at the very end of the lane, where the cobblestones cracked and the streetlamps flickered, stood an old, ivy-cloaked house with a black door.
By its_ishfaq_ahmadabout a year ago in Fiction
When Time Stood Still for a Minute: The Story of a Silent World
#WhenTimeStops #RussianFiction #ScienceFiction #TimeandPeople #RussianStories #PhilosophyandReality The dawn light is just beginning to break in the Nevinnomyssk district of Moscow. Piles of ice have accumulated on the snow-covered roads. The wheels of cars are moving forward, making tracks in the ice. Crowds of people - some are going to the office, some to school, some to the hospital, and still others to the market. Everything was going in a normal rhythm, monotonous, regular - just then... time stopped.
By Md. Atikur Rahamanabout a year ago in Fiction
Fail, Fight, Rise: The Power of the Human Spirit
Introduction Failure. A word we often associate with shame, regret, and loss. But what if failure isn’t the end? What if it's the beginning of something extraordinary? "Fail, Fight, Rise" is not just a phrase—it's a mindset, a way of life embraced by those who refuse to be defined by their lowest moments. In this article, we explore the incredible power of the human spirit through real-life stories of people who fell hard, fought fiercely, and rose even stronger. These are not just success stories—they are life lessons wrapped in pain, perseverance, and personal growth.
By Mian Nazir Shahabout a year ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Savannah: The Lion and the Deer
fragile friendship that tests the boundaries of fear, courage, and trust beneath the golden grasses. --- The dawn light draped the savannah in delicate ribbons of rose and amber, awakening the murmuring choir of insects and birds. Acacia silhouettes stretched long shadows across the tawny sea of grass, while high above, a lone Martial eagle traced lazy circles, its sharp gaze searching for motion. Among the waist-high blades, dust-mottled and still, a young lion named Amani crouched in the hush that precedes a hunt.
By Wasif islamabout a year ago in Fiction
Giants Roam Where Mountains Touch Sky
Giants of the Green: A Tale of the Giraffe and the Camel The sun stretched its golden arms over the lush, endless fields, casting long shadows from towering trees that whispered with morning wind. At the edge of a green forest, beneath the watchful eyes of a great mountain cloaked in mist, an unusual pair wandered side by side—a giraffe named Tula and a camel named Barak.
By Mukhtiar Ahmadabout a year ago in Fiction
orbit of the forgotten
Somewhere, far beyond Earth’s sun, lies a planet untouched by time. It circles a soft lavender star in the quiet solitude of the sixth spiral arm of a forgotten galaxy. The planet has no name spoken aloud, though the winds that ripple its endless fields whisper a word older than memory: Elserin. On Elserin, there are no cities. No machines. No war. Only silence, flowers, and echoes. The planet is a garden—a celestial bloom drifting through space. From space, it looks like a blue and gold marble, but when you step onto its soil, you see it is covered from pole to pole in flowers: towering silver tulips with petals like glass, cobalt vines that hum faintly when touched, and blossoms that glow with warmth under moonlight. Their fragrances linger in the air like memories. But no people live among them now. No one, except for her. She was called Solenne. And she had no memory of Earth. Her arrival was the last act of a dying spacecraft that had carried her across galaxies while she slept for centuries in frozen solitude. A forgotten passenger on a forgotten mission. The ship had broken apart in orbit, scattering metal and fire into Elserin’s skies. She fell like a star and woke among the flowers. The planet welcomed her. The flowers leaned toward her when she walked. The wind carried melodies that echoed her thoughts. Even the sky seemed to pulse with something ancient and kind. Yet there were no humans. No answers. Solenne wandered the fields for weeks, then months. She built a small hut of woven vinewood near the Sea of Petals, a place where the breeze stirred the blossoms into waves. Every morning, she would walk among them, tracing spirals in the soil with her feet, breathing in their scents, waiting for the loneliness to lessen. One day, she found the first statue. It was half-buried in a field of scarlet bloomlights—massive, daisy-like plants that opened only in the presence of grief. The statue was of a child, eyes closed, arms raised toward the sky. Around its base were carvings—thousands of names in a language she couldn’t read. In the days that followed, Solenne found more statues. A mother cradling an invisible baby. Two lovers mid-embrace, faces soft with longing. An old man with a telescope, gazing skyward forever. Each surrounded by flowers that only bloomed when she cried. And cry she did. Not just for the statues or their unspoken stories—but for herself. For the life she never knew, the Earth she would never return to, the voices she would never hear. Her tears watered the soil, and wherever they fell, strange new flowers grew: star-shaped, violet, and trembling with light. She began to understand then. Elserin was not a garden for the living. It was a sanctuary for the forgotten—souls, names, hopes, and dreams cast into the abyss of time. Lost astronauts. Abandoned colonists. Memoryless AIs. Creatures who had once loved, laughed, feared. All gone now, but not erased. The planet remembered them. The flowers were not just flowers. They were echoes—emotions embedded into root and petal, pressed like letters into paper. Each bloom held a story. Solenne stopped walking then. She began listening. She would lie among the flowers for hours, her cheek against warm soil, hearing the stories the wind carried. Stories of a girl who sang to the stars, a boy who built wings from dreams, an old scientist who died with the taste of hope on his tongue. The more she listened, the less alone she felt. Years passed. She did not age—Elserin did not allow it. It was not a world that followed time’s rules. She began to sculpt. Not with stone, but with seeds. She planted gardens in shapes: spirals, galaxies, lullabies, handprints. Entire fields in the form of sleeping children or weeping lovers. And around each, she whispered stories back into the wind. And the wind whispered back. One night, under a sky rippling with five moons and drifting lights, she asked the wind: “Why me?” The answer came not in words, but in feeling—like the warmth of a mother’s hug, the breath of a lover’s sigh, the weight of a goodbye that was never said. Because she remembered. That was her purpose. To remember. To be the orbit of the forgotten. The next morning, something had changed. In the distance, across the River of Blossoms, a new flower had bloomed. It was the size of a house, pale and translucent, and as she approached, she realized it wasn’t a flower at all—but a door. A gate woven of light and petals. She stepped closer, heart aching. Inside the glowing frame, she saw visions: people walking on a distant world, laughing, living, loving. A city by the sea. Children with her eyes. mini versions of her own self. A name she had forgotten—spoken gently, like a prayer. Earth. But the flowers around her rustled. The statues watched with silent eyes. The wind held its breath. She had a choice. Go back. Be Solenne again. Or stay. The decision crushed her like gravity. She turned from the door. She fell to her knees and placed her palm on a new patch of earth. And she cried—not from sorrow, but from love. The door faded. In its place grew a single flower—gold, with petals shaped like stars. It whispered her story. Now she walks still, in that eternal field under the lavender sun, weaving memories into petals. Every once in a while, a new flower blooms where none had before—a life lost in the void, found again in her orbit. And in the silence, she is never alone. Because Elserin remembers. Because Solenne remembers. Because someone must. —
By E. hasanabout a year ago in Fiction
And It All Falls Down
“Ain’t no better lumberjack in all the Northwoods than Ole Dick!” The bar man at Musky Jacks always said, and Dick always laughed without a hint of disagreement.
By Matthew J. Frommabout a year ago in Fiction
The Lantern Parade
Story : I was nine the summer the lanterns changed everything. It was 1997, and our little coastal town in Maine was the kind of place where everyone knew your name and your secrets. My world was small—crab traps on the dock, salt air in my lungs, and Mom’s voice calling me home before the streetlights flickered on. But that summer, I felt like I was drowning in shadows.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
A Thousand Watts of Grace
Story ; The summer I turned seventeen, I discovered that light could do more than illuminate—it could rewrite your soul. It wasn’t the kind of lesson you learn in a classroom or from a parent’s lecture. It came from a single night in a dusty Nebraska field, under a sky so big it felt like it could swallow you whole.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Silence Between Raindrops
In the old yellow house on Maple Street, Eleanor lived alone. The walls whispered in the quiet, not in malice, but in remembrance. Each creak in the floorboards, each sigh of the old windows, held echoes of lives once full and voices now absent.
By ABDU LLAHabout a year ago in Fiction
Why Am I So Tired?
Have you ever found yourself asking, “Why am I so tired?” You’re not alone! Many people feel tired, and it can be frustrating. Let’s talk about some reasons you might feel this way and some easy, natural ways to boost your energy.
By Susan Nnebeabout a year ago in Fiction
The Man Who Waited at the Café Every Sunday
Same worn-out brown coat, same steaming cup of black coffee, and the same soft look in his eyes—like he was waiting for someone.
By Aliabout a year ago in Fiction