Short Story
The Touch
I sat down on a small wooden stool, feeling relieved because I had found the sweet shop I had been looking for, and there were still some sweets left for sale. I had never thought it would take me the entire summer morning to reach the shop; it was such a remote place!
By Abdul Wahababout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Lightkeeper. AI-Generated.
Eli Moran had lived alone on Marrow Isle for twenty-seven years, tending the ancient lighthouse. Once, ships filled the bay like scattered marbles, and Eli’s light meant life or death to sailors fighting the tides. But times changed. GPS and satellites replaced him, leaving Eli a relic—forgotten by everyone but the island itself.
By Rendy Bagusabout a year ago in Fiction
Then, It Was My Turn
I was not always that tough kid that the other children feared. In first grade, I came across my first bully. His name was Thaddeus Wilder. At the age of only 6 years old, he was the size of an 18-year-old. Maybe that’s a small exaggeration, but needless to say, the boy towered over me. I’m not sure he was a boy. He might have been a gorilla. I don’t know what he was.
By David E. Perryabout a year ago in Fiction
Icarus and Daedalus
The Price of Overweening Pride In the labyrinthine myths of ancient Greece, there is one story that still soars high in human imagination — only to fall, burning, into the deep abyss of human folly. It is the story of Icarus and his father Daedalus, a tale about pride unchecked and daring escapes. It reminds us that flying too close to the sun — literally or metaphorically — often leads not to glory but to destruction. Daedalus was a master craftsman, renowned across the ancient world for his brilliant mind and unmatched skill. His inventions were so ingenious that kings and gods alike sought his aid. However, genius frequently coexists with difficulty. Tasked with building the infamous labyrinth for King Minos of Crete, Daedalus designed a maze so complex that no one, not even its creator, could escape it without help. Icarus, Daedalus' young son, was the victims of fate, however. After assisting Theseus in slaying the Minotaur and escaping the labyrinth, Daedalus and Icarus themselves were imprisoned atop a high tower by King Minos, who feared that they might reveal the secret of the maze. In that moment of despair, Daedalus realized that walls and chains could not bind the spirit of invention. If the earth and sea were guarded, the sky remained free. From feathers and wax, Daedalus fashioned two pairs of wings — one for himself, and one for his beloved son. Before they took flight, he gave Icarus a stern warning: “Do not fly too low, or the sea’s dampness will clog your wings. Avoid flying too high because the wax will be melted by the sun's heat. Keep your course in the middle. At first, Icarus obeyed. They soared above the endless blue, tasting freedom like never before. The boy's heart filled with wonder as he felt the winds lift him ever higher. But wonder soon turned to exhilaration, and exhilaration to arrogance. Icarus began to believe he was not merely escaping; he was mastering the very forces of nature. The sun, brilliant and golden, seemed to call out to him — not as a warning, but as an invitation. Blinded by pride, Icarus forgot his father's words. He flapped harder, climbing higher and higher into the sky, chasing the sun as if he were a god himself. The wax binding his wings softened under the scorching heat. One feather, then another, loosened and drifted away. In moments, his marvelous wings disintegrated. Icarus plummeted from the heavens, his cries lost in the wind, and was swallowed by the dark waves of the Aegean Sea. Daedalus, heartbroken and helpless, mourned his son’s fall — a fall not merely from the sky, but from the human limits that pride had made him forget. The Eternal Lesson: The Middle Path The story of Icarus is more than an ancient tragedy; it is a timeless lesson about the danger of excess pride — what the Greeks called “hubris.” Icarus was not punished for desiring freedom. He was punished because he overestimated his own power and underestimated the natural laws that governed him. In his pride, he thought himself immune to consequences. Daedalus’s warning to follow the middle path is wisdom that resonates even today. Extremes frequently result in failure, whether in ambition, relationships, career, or personal goals. Flying too low, filled with fear, prevents growth. Flying too high, blinded by arrogance, invites disaster. The true art of living lies in balance — in soaring high enough to achieve greatness, but humble enough to know one’s limits. Modern Echoes of an Ancient Fall In today’s world, the myth of Icarus finds new relevance. We live in an age that glorifies reaching for the stars, breaking limits, and chasing personal glory at all costs. Social media rewards risk-takers and iconoclasts, often turning a blind eye to caution. But every year, we see countless modern Icaruses — celebrities, entrepreneurs, influencers — who, intoxicated by fame or success, forget their roots and fall spectacularly. Excessive pride can manifest subtly: ignoring advice, dismissing mentors, believing oneself invincible. We may believe that we are on our way to the sun, just like Icarus did. Yet pride weakens the wings we so painstakingly build. And when those wings fail, the fall is sudden, merciless, and irreversible. Humility: The True Strength True greatness is knowing when to respect the sun's heat rather than defying it. Humility is not weakness; it is the wisdom to recognize that no matter how high we soar, we remain human. We have limits. We are bound by nature, by society, by the consequences of our actions. Icarus’s dream was beautiful — but untempered by humility, it became his doom. His story might have ended in a different way if he had balanced his exuberant spirit with grounded wisdom. In the End The myth of Icarus and Daedalus teaches us that ambition is necessary, but arrogance is fatal. It teaches us that life is a careful dance between ambition and restraint, not a straight line to glory. We will always be tempted higher by the sun's rays. But ultimately, our journey is sustained by the wisdom of the middle path rather than the careless flight toward glory. Let us soar, but let us soar wisely.
By SilentWingsabout a year ago in Fiction
King Midas and the Golden Touch
In the ancient kingdom of Phrygia, nestled in the heart of Asia Minor, lived a wealthy and powerful king named Midas. His kingdom was a treasure trove of all kinds, and he ruled his land with great prosperity. His vast collection of precious jewels was a source of envy for all. His palace had walls of gold that sparkled. But despite all the riches surrounding him, King Midas had one overwhelming desire: to have more gold. He couldn't think of anything else because his obsession with gold was so intense. Every room in his palace had golden decorations, and even the servants wore gold-adorned clothing. The king believed that gold was the key to happiness. He wanted to surround himself with endless wealth, believing that the more gold he accumulated, the happier he would become. Midas came across an old satyr named Silenus one day while strolling through his lovely rose garden. Dionysus, the god of wine and revelry, accompanied Silenus. The satyr was lost, weary from his journey, and was seeking shelter. King Midas, known for his generosity and hospitality, welcomed him with open arms. He provided food, drink, and a place for Silenus to rest. In an effort to demonstrate the satyr's noble character, the king treated him with great kindness. The wine god Dionysus appeared before the king and offered a reward when he learned of Midas' generosity. "Midas," said Dionysus, "You have shown kindness to my friend, Silenus. As a token of my appreciation, I shall grant you one wish. Be careful, as a wish from the gods is potent. Without a moment’s hesitation, Midas responded, "I wish that everything I touch will turn to gold." "Are you sure, King Midas?" Dionysus asked Midas as he gave her a knowing look. Gold may bring wealth, but it may also bring sorrow. Give your wish careful consideration." But King Midas, blinded by his greed and obsession with wealth, insisted. "Yes, I am certain. I want everything I touch to turn to gold." With a sigh, Dionysus granted Midas’s request. "So be it," he said, and touched Midas's hand. Instantly, the king felt a strange power coursing through him. From that moment, whatever Midas touched would turn into solid gold. Midas rushed to put his new ability to the test, ecstatic beyond words. He touched a nearby twig, and it instantly turned to gold. When he touched a rock, it too became gold, and he smiled in awe. He walked through his palace, touching statues, furniture, and even the walls, all of them turning into solid gold. Midas laughed joyously, imagining how he would be the wealthiest man in the world. But soon, the consequences of his wish began to reveal themselves. The king got hungry, so he sat down to eat. He eagerly reached for a loaf of bread, but the moment his fingers touched it, the bread turned to gold. His heart sank as he tried to eat a piece of meat, only to see it turn into a golden brick in his hands. Desperate, he tried to drink a cup of wine, but it froze into a solid golden block before it could touch his lips. He was unable to eat or drink anything, and a wave of dread washed over him. Just then, his beloved daughter, Marigold, entered the room. She ran toward her father, eager to greet him. But as soon as she touched him, she too turned into a lifeless golden statue. King Midas's heart broke into a thousand pieces as he saw the one person he loved most in the world transformed into an inanimate object. Midas knelt down and cried out to the heavens in his despair. "What are my actions? I wanted gold, but now I have lost everything! Please, Dionysus, take back this cursed gift. I no longer dream of having gold. I want my daughter back. I want my life back." Moved by Midas's genuine sorrow, Dionysus appeared before him once more. "Midas," he said gently, "You have learned a painful lesson. Your greed has caused you suffering. The curse can still be broken, though. Go to the river Pactolus and wash yourself in its waters. The golden touch's power will vanish when you do." Without hesitation, Midas raced to the river, hoping that he could reverse the terrible curse. He felt the golden power drain from his body as he entered the flowing waters. He knelt by the riverbank and scooped up water, pouring it over his hands, his face, and his body. He felt the golden touch leave slowly. Midas then rushed back to his palace, where he found his daughter, Marigold, still frozen in gold. He poured the river water over her statue, and miraculously, her golden form softened. Her cheeks regained their natural color, and her body began to move once more. Marigold gave a quick blink before looking around with wide eyes of wonder. "Father!" she cried, and they embraced each other joyfully. From that day forward, Midas was no longer interested in gold. He realized that true happiness did not come from wealth, but from love, family, and the simple joys of life. He had discovered that the heart's treasures were far more valuable and that the pursuit of gold could result in significant losses. King Midas's palace, once filled with glittering gold, was transformed into a warm, welcoming place of love and kindness. The king spent the rest of his life with Marigold, cherishing every moment with her. He became known as a wise and humble ruler, and his story spread far and wide as a cautionary tale. Midas washed away the golden curse in the Pactolus River, which became a symbol of change and redemption. The river was said to carry traces of gold in its sands, a reminder of the time when a king learned that true wealth lies not in gold, but in the richness of the soul.
By SilentWingsabout a year ago in Fiction
Meteor Birthed Barbarian
I write fiction, but I am first and foremost a poet, so this is actually more narrative poetry. However, I hope it will be accepted into the beginning-endings challenge. I am always one to ride the fence when it comes to a prompt, I will admit.
By K.B. Silver about a year ago in Fiction
Ghosts of Tomorrow’s Past
In a distant future, humanity has mastered the ability to record possible futures — quantum imprints of what could happen — and store them in colossal Memory Vaults. These archives shape the world, preventing wars, solving crises before they happen, and building a near-utopian society. Archivists are elite guardians of this knowledge, ensuring only safe futures are used, while dangerous ones are erased and sealed away.
By Mir Ahmad Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
