Short Story
"The Last Ride Out of Marlowe"
The town of Marlowe, Texas, was a place where dust settled on your boots almost immediately, and secrets lingered as persistently as the August heat. Carter Briggs had not returned in seventeen years—not since he left in the dead of night with a duffel bag filled with guilt and his father's old Colt .45. Now, at thirty-six, with weary eyes and a jaw marked by regret, he found himself gazing out the window of a Greyhound bus as the Marlowe city limits sign passed by
By Md.Nayeemul Islam Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
"The Last Slice"
It was a warm Friday evening in the small town of Elmwood, Ohio. Streetlights flickered on as families headed home from high school football games and the scent of fresh dough wafted through Main Street from Tony's Pizza, the town’s oldest and most beloved restaurant.
By Md.Nayeemul Islam Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
Chapters Apart, Story Together
Rafi was a quiet, thoughtful boy from a small town where life moved slowly and predictably. His days were simple—waking up to the sound of his mother calling from the kitchen, rushing to school with half-eaten toast in hand, and returning to evenings filled with homework and dreams of something just beyond the town’s borders. He didn’t know it then, but his world was about to change the day Ayaan walked into their classroom. Ayaan was the new kid, transferred from a distant city. His hair curled at the edges, and his school bag still had tags from his previous school. The other students stared for a bit, then returned to their own lives. But something about Ayaan’s silence made Rafi pause. During the lunch break, while others played or talked, Rafi walked up to him and said, “Want to sit with me? I know it’s hard being new.” That small kindness sparked a friendship that would become the heart of Rafi’s growing years.
By Sabab Saminabout a year ago in Fiction
I Couldn't Promise Her a Future, So She Left
She left without taking much, except for the calendar we bought together. It was the first day of the new year. She rolled up the calendar, placed it in her bag, and didn't ask if I wanted to keep a page as a memento. She didn't say "take care" or "goodbye."
By Adam Collinsabout a year ago in Fiction
Who is wrong?. Content Warning.
Scene: A dimly lit bedroom, with a queen size bed and two baby cots. The air is tense, Henry is fuming, Louise is fast asleep and baby George is crying) Narrator He tapped her violently, Waking her up, abruptly from deep sleep. Henry (tapping violently) The baby has been crying for over 30 minutes. What kind of a useless mother are you? Why are you so wicked and heartless? How can you lie there sleeping? When your child, has been wailing for over half an hour. Louise I was in shock, Shock from the way he woke me up, Shock that I could sleep so deeply, and neglect my son. As I tried to collect myself, I was yanked off the bed by Henry. Henry (shouting!!!!) Why are you still sitting there? Can’t you see my son is starving? Get up and do something? Go and take care of him. Louise Now in shock and destabilized from the pull, My first reflex was; I grabbed baby’s bottle of water, And tried to give him, in order to calm him down, And stop the crying as I pull myself together. All these; while he rained insults on me. Henry (mocking) You foolish woman, Why are you giving water to a hungry child? Feed the boy his formula, not water. Useless woman. Louise I mixed the formula for my 3-month old, He hated breastfeeding; it was too stressful for him, As I was feeding him, my husband kept raining insults on me, I finished feeding the baby, but the abuses kept coming. I was distraught, angry and disappointed. Louise(thinking) Why would a man who calls himself a father, Allow his son to cry for 30 minutes, Before waking me up, just to prove a point? Why would he not carry his child and try to pacify him? Why would a husband treat his wife this way? I had worked all day, cleaned the entire house, Hand-washed the clothes, cooking four different dishes, And stock the freezer for the coming week. I was utterly exhausted after such a hectic day. Narrator Henry was aware of all this, He was home all day and saw it all happen, He didn’t assist his wife in anyway, Except request for food when it was time, And complain about the children crying. Barking orders, here and there. Louise could not comprehend why he, Henry would not understand how she felt, Especially since this had never happened before. As she thought about this, anger brewed within her. She was so angry that tears started to roll down her eyes. He didn’t notice because he was busy, Spitting terrible words at her. Louise (angry, hands shaking) My blood boiled, and out of rage, I stoned him with the perfectly wrapped diaper, I had just changed the baby out of. A decision I didn’t even have the time to regret, As he made me regret it, instantly. A sprained finger and bruises on my face and body, Was testament to how the night unfolded. Narrator Before Louise could even register the shock of her own actions, Henry was on her in an instant, like it’s what he was waiting for. His hand shot out, and with a deafening slap, He struck her across the face. The force of the blow sent her head snapping to the side, Her chest stinging, her vision blurred for a second. She barely had time to catch a breath, before he raised his hand again, And slapped her harder this time, The sound ringing through the room like a crack of thunder. Henry (growling, voice deep with rage) Who do you think you are? I’ll teach you your place. Narrator The pain in Louise’s face was now mirrored in her chest, Her heart raced, fury bubbling up from the smallest cells in her body. The tears she had tried to hold back through the insults, Through the degradation, finally rolled down uncontrollably. She wasn’t going to let him get away with this. In a split second, Louise’s arm shot out, and her hand, Collided with Henry’s face in a sharp, stinging slap. Her palm burned but the pain and shock on Henry’s face, Gave her the satisfaction of standing her ground, though painful. The room became a blur of movements as they clashed. Narrator (continued) Let’s not forget the broken door from her anger, After she was locked outside, by this same man. She had become a shadow of herself, As a result of this kind of treatment over time. She had become angry, bitter and coupled with, Post partum depression and the stress of raising a newborn, And a toddler in a 3-bedroom apartment with no help, And a husband like Henry, she had finally lost her mind. The marriage had become toxic. She never knew what it felt like to be loved, An cherished by her husband, Not during the first pregnancy/birth or the second. She was always alone, her parents in a far away land, Unable to lend her a helping hand. She envied her fellow women, Who were pampered by their men, She would never know what it felt like. Despite almost losing her life on both accounts of child bearing, He couldn’t show her basic kindness.
By Peace Oputaabout a year ago in Fiction
Charlie and the Chocolate Dream
Charlie and the Chocolate Dream A Sweet Adventure Through Wonder, Temptation, and the Power of Kindness Charlie Crumb lived in a crooked little house at the edge of a gray town, with his parents and four grandparents, all of whom shared one tiny bed. The family had little, but they had each other—and Charlie had a dream. That dream? To one day taste the legendary treats from Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. No one had entered the factory in years. The great gates were always locked, and mystery swirled around the eccentric genius inside—Willy Wonka, the world’s most imaginative chocolatier. His confections were unlike anything else: ice cream that never melted, chewing gum that changed flavors every minute, and invisible fudge that vanished only when you ate it. Then one chilly morning, an announcement burst onto every screen and newspaper: “FIVE GOLDEN TICKETS HIDDEN INSIDE WONKA BARS. FIND ONE, WIN A TOUR OF THE FACTORY AND A LIFETIME SUPPLY OF SWEETS!” The world exploded in chocolate fever. Children everywhere tore through wrappers. Stores ran out of candy within hours. But for Charlie, whose family could only afford one chocolate bar a year—on his birthday—the dream seemed impossibly far away. His birthday came. With trembling fingers, he opened his single bar. No ticket. Charlie smiled anyway. “It’s okay,” he said. “I still have the best birthday.” But fate had a sweet surprise. Weeks later, while walking home from school, Charlie spotted a crumpled bill half-buried in snow. He rushed to the corner shop and bought a single Wonka bar. He opened it right there. A shimmer. A sparkle. The golden ticket. People cheered. Cameras flashed. Charlie clutched the ticket to his chest and ran home, breathless with joy. --- On the day of the factory tour, five children arrived: - Veruca Glint , a spoiled girl who demanded everything. - Augustus Grobb, who ate more than he spoke. - Violet Priss , a gum-chewing champ with attitude. - Mike Zapper , obsessed with video games and gadgets. - And humble Charlie Crumb , wide-eyed and hopeful. Willy Wonka appeared in a swirl of purple smoke and candy confetti. Dressed in a velvet coat and peppermint-striped gloves, he smiled. “Welcome, my sweet explorers!” Inside the gates, the children gasped. There were rivers of molten chocolate, sugar-apple trees, bubble rooms, and chocolate birds that chirped in harmony. The walls glowed with caramel light, and everything—even the grass—was edible. But the tour wasn’t just a walk through wonder—it was a test of character. --- In the Chocolate River Room , Augustus couldn’t resist. He leaned over to drink straight from the stream, fell in, and was sucked into a fudge pipe. “Oh, dear,” Wonka sighed. “One bite too greedy.” In the Nut Sorting Hall , Veruca demanded a golden squirrel. When the squirrels deemed her “a bad nut,” they tossed her down the garbage chute. “Tough shell to crack,” Wonka murmured. In the Gum Lab , Violet ignored warnings and chewed a new gum formula. She swelled into a giant blueberry and had to be rolled away by Oompa Loompas. In the Digital Treats Chamber , Mike zapped himself into a candy commercial and vanished into the screen. One by one, the others were whisked away—each undone by selfishness or pride. Charlie, however, simply marveled. He listened. He asked questions. He helped clean a spilled tray of jellybeans. He laughed with the Oompa Loompas and thanked them for their songs. Finally, at the end of the tour, only Charlie remained. They stood in the Great Glass Elevator, floating above the entire factory. “Well,” said Wonka, “what do you think, Charlie?” “It’s... beyond my wildest dreams,” Charlie whispered. Willy Wonka turned, his face suddenly serious. “You passed the true test, my boy. This wasn’t just about sweets. It was about heart. Kindness. Humility. You see, I’ve been looking for someone—someone to take over my factory.” Charlie's eyes widened. “Me?” Wonka nodded. “If you want it, Charlie, the factory is yours.” Charlie looked out over the candy-coated landscape, thinking of his family, his little house, the warmth in his heart. “Yes,” he said. “But only if they can all come too.” Wonka grinned. “That’s exactly what I hoped you’d say.” --- From that day on, Charlie’s life changed. His family moved into the factory, living in a caramel-scented cottage inside. Charlie worked beside Wonka, learning not just how to make sweets, but how to dream boldly, give generously, and create joy. The gates of the factory were never closed again. Children from all over the world visited, not just for candy—but for inspiration. And so, the boy who had once only dreamed of chocolate became the one who shared its magic with the world. Because in the end, as Charlie learned, the sweetest thing wasn’t the candy—it was the kindness behind it.
By Little Dream Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
