Short Story
The Secret to Lasting Love: Understanding Your Partner’s Love Language
Love isn’t one-size-fits-all. We all have different ways of showing and receiving affection. Imagine you’re with someone special, but despite all the effort, sometimes it feels like they don’t get you. That’s where understanding Love Languages comes in.
By Silent Tearsabout a year ago in Fiction
The Way Out Is Through
Adam and Eve on the International Space Station. A pure coincidence, of course, that they should have been so named, but that didn’t stop the media from their home countries exploiting this bit of synchronicity to make out the “new frontier” as the next Garden of Eden.
By C. Rommial Butlerabout a year ago in Fiction
We Are Coining It. Content Warning.
Them: "Me and a few others have found this great AI story generator and it is guaranteed untraceable. We can generate hundreds of stories a day with no effort at all. We're going to use it to generate puzzle books to sell on Amazon as well as getting lots of Top stories on the Platform"Me: "Tell me you are joking, I thought you were a creative writer, not a cheat"Them: "We're already doing it, we have had ten Top Stories this month, and we have bots that go through new stories and comment on them, so we are coining it there as well because the Platform rewards commenting. We have other bots that comment on our stories using Platform Ids so we make a lot from that as well"Me: "You disgust me, while I think they will eventually suss you out, I am going to tell them now"Them: "You have no proof, they won't believe you, and we are respected creators, The Platform even eulogised us in a podcast, so they will take our side"Me: "I have this message, I can forward the lot on"Them: "We'll just say you faked it, and as well as that, we will forward the one we made about you, how you abuse others and cheat the system, you will be lucky to be just banned from the Platform, we could get the police involved"Me: "You are disgusting, you're not even making that much from this just ruining it for everyone else. Eventually, they will spot you even if I stay silent"Them: "They won't, they're too busy keeping the Platform afloat. If we think they might be on to us, we hit them with a Denial of Service attack, so they have to put extra effort in. If someone is trying to keep their boat afloat, a couple of holes below the waterline, always keep the crew busy"Me: "If I ever see you in person, you will pay for this"Them: "Sure, oh, by the way, we have sent that email about your cheating and abuse to a few Platform creators, so you will be losing readers, and if we even think you have shared this with anyone, we won't hold back.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about a year ago in Fiction
The Last Transmission
By the year 2196, humanity had colonized Jupiter's moons, constructed floating cities above Venus, and carried out deep-space missions toward Proxima Centauri. The most ambitious of these was the Odysseus, a one-way trip to Kepler-442b, an exoplanet more than 1,200 light-years away that resembles Earth. The crew of six—four humans and two sentient AIs—had volunteered to spend the rest of their lives in stasis, only to be awakened upon arrival over a millennium later. That was the plan.
By Reehanul Islamabout a year ago in Fiction
The Secret Language of Rust
The voices of the world are soft. But busy lives make us deaf. They are only heard when we slow down. I learned this lesson on an old railway bridge. I was told a quiet tale by weather, metal, and time. The bridge stood across the wide river like a backbone. The strong wind made the iron beams squeak. The tracks had no trains anymore. But their silence was louder than the old engines. Rails were covered in rust. It did not look like damage to me. It looked like nature’s quiet writing.
By Asif Mahmudabout a year ago in Fiction
The Poet and the Caged Muse
The town of Veridian Hollow was known for two things: its fog-soaked cobblestone streets and the poets who haunted them. Every dusk, ink-stained dreamers gathered in dimly lit taverns to recite verses about love, loss, and the ache of existence. But Elias Wren was different. He didn’t recite—he couldn’t. For three years, his quill had lain dormant, his parchment blank as the hollows of his heart.
By Sanchita Chatterjeeabout a year ago in Fiction
Love, For the First Time
*I was just 17.* Class 10. Quiet. A bit of a loner. Most of my time was spent glued to games, lost in my own world. We were living in a rented house back then. Next door, one of the rooms had been empty for a while — until one day, a new family came to check it out. They weren’t alone. A girl was with them.
By Imran hossainabout a year ago in Fiction
What Happened When I Had Nothing Left to Lose
I didn’t plan on hitting rock bottom. Nobody does. You don’t wake up one day and decide to lose your job, your relationship, your money, and your will to function — all in the span of three months. But let me tell you what happens when life body-slams you into the concrete and leaves you gasping:
By Jaypalsinh Jadeja2 years ago in Fiction
