Short Story

St Patricks Day 2025
St Patricks Day 2025 St. Patrick’s Day celebrated every year on March 17 is one of the most significant cultural and festive events worldwide particularly for those with Irish heritage. The day honors St. Patrick the patron saint of Ireland who is credited with spreading Christianity throughout the country. Originally a religious observance St. Patrick’s Day has evolved into a grand celebration of Irish culture traditions and national pride. Today it is observed with immense enthusiasm not just in Ireland but across the world especially in countries with large Irish communities like the United States the United Kingdom Canada and Australia. The day is marked by parades live music traditional Irish food and joyous festivities that bring people together in a shared appreciation of Ireland’s rich heritage.
By Adnan Rasheed2 years ago in Fiction
The Merchant and the Bird
The Merchant and the Bird A merchant kept a bird. This bird was born in India. Since he was going to India for trade, the merchant asked his beloved bird if he could bring him something from India. ''I want my freedom,'' said the bird.
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Fiction
A Question in the Dark: The Prisoner's Truth
A towering inmate, built like a wrestler, stood surrounded by his hardened companions. His deep, rumbling voice broke the uneasy silence— "What’s your crime?" Akshay fell silent, lost in thought. After a moment, he composed himself and said, "Does it even matter? No matter what, I’m still just another prisoner." The inmate let out a loud, mocking laugh. "Ah, I see. This is your first time here, isn’t it?" Then, leaning in slightly, he smirked. "But maybe you don’t know… even prisoners have a hierarchy here." "Some are small-time crooks, some are vicious… and some are monsters." He crossed his arms. "So, tell me… which category do you belong to?" Akshay gave a sad smile, one that carried more pain than amusement. "If that’s how it works here… I’d like to know too—what kind of sinner I am." He stepped closer to the inmate, his posture relaxed but his voice unwavering. "Let’s do one thing. I’ll tell you my story. You decide where I belong." The inmate raised an eyebrow, intrigued. A moment of silence passed before he chuckled. "Interesting… You’ve got two minutes. Make it worth my time. And remember…" He narrowed his eyes. "I have a short temper." --- "Three Months Ago..." "I had just started a new job in this city." Everything felt fresh—new places, new people. It was exciting. But what made the city special for me… was her. Our apartments were close. For weeks, I tried to start a conversation, but I never found the courage. Then one night, I heard loud crashing noises from her apartment. Concerned—and maybe looking for an excuse to talk to her—I rang her doorbell. She opened the door just a little. Her face looked tense, exhausted. "I live next door," I said, trying to sound casual. "I heard noises… just wanted to check if everything’s okay?" She hesitated, then forced a small smile. "Everything’s fine. Don’t worry." And with that, she shut the door. I stood there for a moment, wondering if I was overthinking. Then, shaking my head, I walked back to my apartment. The next morning, my doorbell rang. She was standing there. "I’m sorry about last night," she said softly. "I was just… dealing with something. I didn’t even thank you for checking in." I smiled. "It’s fine. Just wanted to make sure you were okay." She looked at me, a strange warmth in her eyes. "People like you are rare these days." That moment, I felt something shift. From that day on, we started talking more. Weeks passed, and we grew closer. I was happy. Then, one night, I heard those same crashing noises again. At first, I ignored them. But something felt off. I went to her apartment and rang the doorbell. This time, she opened the door fully. And what I saw inside… A man lay on the floor, blood trickling from his head. He was barely conscious. She was trembling. "I-I didn’t mean to… It was an accident," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. I was frozen. My mind was racing. "Stay here!" she said. "I’ll get help. I called an ambulance." And she ran out. I locked the door behind her and waited. Five minutes… ten minutes… twenty minutes passed. Then, the doorbell rang. "Ambulance," a voice called out. Relieved, I opened the door— And the next thing I knew, cold metal clicked around my wrists. Handcuffs. I looked around. A crowd had gathered. She was nowhere to be seen. I searched for her in the sea of faces. But she had disappeared. --- A heavy silence settled in the prison cell. Akshay’s voice wavered as he looked at the inmate. "So, tell me… what category do I belong to?" A tear escaped his eye, but he didn’t bother wiping it away. The inmate clenched his jaw, his rough exterior faltering. He let out a slow breath before speaking—his voice quieter this time. "You don’t belong in any category." He looked away for a moment, then back at Akshay. "Your punishment wasn’t the prison sentence." He paused. "It was the moment those handcuffs locked around your wrists." Another pause. "And as for surviving in here…" A small smirk appeared on the inmate’s face. "Welcome to hell, brother. You won’t find a better place than this."
By Ritvik2 years ago in Fiction
The Thief Who Left his Mark
In the highlands where the soil was rich and the rivers ran clear, a new village had been built. The people were overjoyed, for the land was generous, their paddies golden, and their fruit trees heavy with harvest.
By Aku Kapfo2 years ago in Fiction
Two Cunning Adventures
There is no one who does not know about Raigama and Gampala. Katta and Vettapittala are two such tricksters. Due to the cunning work of two friends in a village, the villagers called them Katta and Vettapittala. Despite trying various tricks to make ends meet, they could not do much with them.
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Fiction
True Love Isn't About Spark, It's About Growth
All relationships will reach a point where they feel ''boring'' after quite a few years. This is the truth nobody is telling you. The butterflies will calm, the 3 A.M. talking will become commonplace, and the thrill of novelty will wear off. Though love has not disappeared. It just means it's growing. What is the magic of love in the face of the challenges? It's about building a fire.
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Fiction
A Glimpse into Village Life 75 Years Ago
Back then, children in villages had a playful childhood because there were no tutoring classes. This is about that childhood about seventy-five years ago.
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Fiction
A Childhood Remembered
This photo is related to the fishing industry on the southern coast of the world This has been etched in my mind since I can remember. I still remember that beautiful past when I go to that area.
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Fiction
A Painful Path to Birth
Did you know that the hyena has one of the most painful/excruciating births of an animal? Female hyenas have a peculiar reproductive structure what looks like a penis is really an elongated clitoris that serves as a pseudo-penis.
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Fiction
The Price of Eternity. Top Story - March 2025.
"Welcome to Drax Industries: the Home of the Future. Please enter your State identification code to begin." Kaylie shifted her weight and wet her lips, staring at the prompt on the holographic screen for a while longer. Her fingers hovered over the number pad, but she couldn't bring herself to do what it asked. It wasn't like she didn't want to. After all, who wouldn't jump at the chance to live forever?
By Natalie Gray2 years ago in Fiction
THE SILENT WITNESS
When Jason, a seasoned crime scene cleaner, is called to an upscale apartment to clean up after what appears to be a tragic suicide, he finds something that shakes him to his core—a hidden message written in blood. As he delves deeper, he realizes the "suicide" may have been something far more sinister, and the real killer is watching his every move.-- Jason had seen it all. Fifteen years as a crime scene cleaner had numbed him to the sight of blood, the scent of death, and the whispers of those who once lived. His job was simple: erase the remnants of tragedy, make it as though nothing had ever happened. But this time, something was different. The call came in at dawn. An upscale penthouse in the heart of the city. A woman in her late twenties, found in her bathtub with wrists slashed. The police had already ruled it a suicide. Routine cleanup, they said. Jason arrived at the apartment, greeted by the hollow silence of a home that no longer had a heartbeat. He set to work, methodically scrubbing the crimson stains from the pristine white tiles, but as he wiped down the mirror, something caught his eye. A message. Faint, nearly washed away by the steam and blood splatter. “HE MADE ME.”
By Timothy odogun 2 years ago in Fiction
The Templar Survival Guide to New York
When Richard woke up to the smell of cheese, his silver sword was stuck in the Domino's pizza oven. His last memory is at the walls of Constantinople in 1453, where an Ottoman arquebus pierced his embroidered burqa.
By anmin2 years ago in Fiction