Short Story
The Choice. Content Warning.
"Does he love me?" The question should be so simple to answer. But for Thea, it was anything but simple. She never expected to fall in love with Tom. She was determined to never fall in love again after experiencing nothing but heartbreaks her whole life.
By Luna Verity2 years ago in Fiction
Aspire Door. Top Story - April 2025.
Vanessa was making her way up Alex’s driveway while she looked up at the sky above her head. The sky was covered with dark clouds and what started off as a grey sky thick with the smell of approaching rain was now nearly black as the oncoming storm was only minutes away. “So the storm just had to make its appearance when I decided to come vent to Alex?” Vanessa thought to herself.
By Joe Patterson2 years ago in Fiction
MIDNIGHT MAGIC - ch 16
MIDNIGHT MAGIC – ch 16 Julie (*)(*)(*) Liz nudged her husband’s arm. “Ian, I just looked at the internet on my phone’s app, and the flight will take more than seven hours. Cormac has been sitting in that chair for almost one. Maybe he needs to use the bathroom. Or maybe, at least have something to drink.”
By Margaret Brennan2 years ago in Fiction
The Nameless Stranger
A Nameless Man I Still Think About You know how some people just pass through your life—and yet, somehow, they leave this strange, quiet mark behind? You don’t remember their name, maybe even forget their face... but what they made you feel? That sticks. There was this one man—completely unknown, totally ordinary—who sat beside me during a train ride. Just for about an hour. And yet, I think about him even now. Weird, right? It was July. One of those brutally hot days. I was on a train from Khulna to Dhaka. The kind of journey where you’re sweating even before the train moves. Inside, I was probably more restless than outside. My head was a mess—work wasn’t going anywhere, life felt stuck, and honestly, I was mad at myself. You ever get that feeling? Like no matter how much you try, you're just… stuck? The train was packed—people standing, kids crying, someone’s elbow always in your side—but I managed to grab a window seat. Still, couldn’t relax. Couldn’t even enjoy the view. Then he came. Just this regular guy. Tanned face, worn-out clothes, an old dusty bag slung over one shoulder. Could’ve been anyone. He sat next to me. Didn’t say anything at first. I figured he’d do what most people do—plug in his earphones or doze off. But after a bit, he turned to me and asked, “Brother, what’s your name?” I kind of blinked. I mean—who even asks that anymore? Still, I said, “Matiur.” Then asked him, “And you?” He chuckled and said, “Doesn’t matter. No one remembers names in places like this. Just remember my story.” I didn’t know what to say. It was such a simple thing to say, but it hit deep, you know? And somehow—don’t ask me how—we started talking. Like really talking. I found myself telling him stuff I hadn’t told anyone. Things about how my dreams felt like they were slipping through my fingers, about people who had humiliated me, about nights where I felt completely invisible. And the strange part? He didn’t try to “fix” anything. He didn’t give me advice or say something cheesy like, “Don’t worry, things will get better.” No. He just listened. Sometimes he nodded, sometimes said “Hmm” or “That’s rough.” But he was really there. Fully present. And that—God, that felt like a warm blanket on a cold day. I didn’t even realize how badly I needed someone to just… listen. After a while, the train stopped at a small station. He got up. I felt this weird panic in my chest. I said, “Wait… I still don’t know your name.” He smiled again, soft and calm. “What would you do with it, brother? People forget names. Even faces. But some moments… they stay.” And with that, he stepped off. I watched him walk away through the window, his figure slowly blending into the crowd and dust. Then the train jerked forward again, and all I could see were trees and fields flashing by. But in my head, it was just his voice repeating that last line. It’s been years now. I’ve forgotten so many things—conversations, faces, places. But that one interaction? Crystal clear. His words. His silence. The way he made space for me without asking for anything in return. We always think the people who’ll change us will be the ones closest to us. Friends, family. But sometimes, it’s a total stranger—someone you never see again—who touches your heart in a way you didn’t even know was possible. These days, when I see someone sitting quietly, I catch myself wondering—what’s their story? Are they carrying something heavy too? Maybe they’re just waiting for someone who’ll actually listen. I never knew his name. Probably never will. But his presence—that short, quiet hour—taught me something I’ll never forget.
By Md Motiur Rahman2 years ago in Fiction
MIDNIGHT MAGIC - ch 15
MIDNIGHT MAGIC – ch 15 Julie (*)(*)(*) “Morena, my stor (my dear), I can feel your anxiety. What’s on your mind?” “Finola, we’ve all been enormously distracted since Monty showed up a few hours ago. Distracted to the point where most of our concentration has been on what he’s doing, rather than the outer corners, specifically, Tony and what might happen next. It’s fine to fix our immediate problems, namely Cormac and Monty, but what about Tony? It’s a gut feeling that he won’t stop. I don’t have to explain to anyone how super worried I am about Jules.”
By Margaret Brennan2 years ago in Fiction
The Little Wizard’s Lost Wand
Oliver, a young wizard, lived in a hidden valley surrounded by tall, misty mountains. He wasn’t like the grand, powerful wizards who could summon thunderstorms or turn pumpkins into carriages. No, Oliver was still a young child. But there was something special about his wand—each time he used it, it hummed with warmth and sparkled with magic. However, tragedy struck Oliver one fateful morning as he was getting ready for his first official magic demonstration in front of the grand council of wizards. His cherished wand had vanished! “I can’t perform without my wand!” Oliver exclaimed as he frantically searched within his plant seed pot, behind his books, and even under his bed. The wand had vanished from sight. Oliver was aware that he had no choice as the council meeting was just hours away. He had to find his wand—*and fast*. He gathered his possessions, which included his spellbook, a small pouch containing magical ingredients, and a magical map that, provided he believed, could assist him in finding anything. He took a deep breath and set out on his journey, determined to recover his wand. --- As Oliver ventured into the enchanted forest near his home, the trees whispered, their leaves glittering with tiny sparkles of magic. He could feel the enchantment in the air. However, despite the beauty all around him, he felt a little bit of fear in his heart. What if he couldn’t find the wand? What if, in the end, he wasn't good enough to be a wizard? His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden rustling in the bushes. Out hopped a small, mischievous rabbit, wearing a tiny wizard’s hat that looked far too big for him. "Trying to find something?" The rabbit asked, with a sly grin. Oliver tried to smile as he knelt. "My wand, yes. I’m on a quest to find it.” The rabbit’s eyes sparkled. "Well, I can assist. Stay with me!” Oliver hesitated for a moment before deciding to trust the tiny creature. The rabbit led him deeper into the forest, hopping from one tree to the next, and always staying just a step ahead. They continued until they came to a clearing with a small pond that shone in the moonlight. In the middle of the pond floated a stone, and atop that stone sat a large, glowing fish with shimmering scales. It flicked its tail and gave a small, musical giggle. The fish spoke with a voice that sounded like chimes, "I've heard your wish, young wizard." “But finding your wand isn’t just about searching. The key to achieving true magic is having faith in oneself. Oliver rubbed his eyes. “I don’t understand. How can I find my wand if I believe in myself? Scales that sparkled like stars made the fish smile. When you have faith in your magical abilities, the wand will be found. Now, look closely at the water.” Oliver peered into the pond. The surface rippled, and suddenly, he saw an image of his wand, glowing brightly, hidden deep within the forest, beneath an ancient oak tree. But the image quickly faded. “You must follow the path your heart leads you on,” the fish said before disappearing into the water with a soft splash. --- Filled with new hope, Oliver set off again, determined to trust himself. His heart told him to follow the winding path ahead, where the trees were thick and the shadows deep. He walked and walked, his legs growing tired, but he kept going. Soon, he came upon the ancient oak tree—the one from the vision in the pond. Like twisted arms, its branches extended high into the sky. The earth was cool and soft beneath its roots. And there, tucked away between two roots, was his wand, glowing softly with a familiar, warm light. Oliver flashed a wide grin. He had discovered it. --- However, behind him, a loud voice boomed as he reached for his wand. “Hold on! That’s not yours!” When Oliver turned around, he saw a tall, eerie figure emerge from the trees. With glowing eyes and large, gnarled hands, it was a giant. The figure’s voice echoed through the woods. "I keep watch over this tree and its treasures!" The giant grunted. "No wizard can take what they don't own!" Oliver stood still for a moment. He felt too small to stand up to the giant. But then, he remembered the fish’s words. He looked at his wand, then back at the giant, and took a deep breath. He declared, "I'm not just a wizard; I'm a wizard who believes in himself." I have made it this far, and I won't stop. He lifted his wand high into the air. It glowed brighter than ever before, and a warm light filled the clearing. The giant, seeing the strength in Oliver’s words and the magic in his heart, smiled gently and stepped aside. “Go on, young wizard,” the giant said. “Your journey is your own.” --- Oliver was overjoyed to finally be able to use his wand when he got home. Not only did he have his wand back, but he had also discovered the most powerful magic of all: the ability to believe in oneself. Oliver stood proudly before the wizards at the grand council. He used his wand to cast a spell that lit up the room with magic and made the air sparkle and swirl. The council gasped in awe. The head wizard smiled and said, "Well done, young wizard." “You’ve proven that the most powerful magic of all is within you.” Oliver beamed, his heart full of confidence. He knew then that he would always have faith in himself and the magic within him, no matter where his adventures took him.
By Little Dream Stories2 years ago in Fiction
Ayala Foxman
Deep into the heart of Buenos Aires is a non-descript ten-storey apartment building. On the fourth floor is apartment number D7, staying in which currently is a peculiar yet commendable tenant by the name of Ayala Foxman. She was quiet, paid her bills on time, donated handsomely for any fundraisers, and was always willing to loan a cup of sugar but never asked for one in return. What more could you want from a neighbour?
By Shrean Rafiq2 years ago in Fiction
