Short Story
Quilting a Nation. Top Story - February 2025.
I cried as I sewed the latest patch into the quilt. My tears stained the delicate fabric, and neither I nor the others gathered around the frame made a move to wipe them clean. I heard, much later, that one of the little embroidery girls stitched gossamer threads around each splash.
By Meredith Harmon2 years ago in Fiction
THAT DAY
That Day The air was thick with the scent of rain, though the storm had long passed. Puddles shimmered under the flickering streetlights, reflecting the skeletal branches of leafless trees. The town was quiet, unnervingly so, as though it had exhaled its last breath and was waiting, just waiting.
By Himansu Kumar Routray2 years ago in Fiction
Culinary Artist. Content Warning.
Staring at the blank canvas I heaved a sigh. My therapist had said this would be therapeutic. That this would help get the images that plagued my mind out and stored elsewhere. Lacing my fingers behind my head I closed my eyes, allowing those memories forward.
By Analesia Giammusso2 years ago in Fiction
Popeye the Train Driver Man
Popeye the Train Driver Man Once upon a time, there was a man named Popeye, who had once been a sailor in a past life. Now, he was the driver of a train, but he wasn’t the friendly sailor he once was. Instead, Popeye had turned to a life of crime, stealing and hiding cash beneath the seats and inside the train's upholstery.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 years ago in Fiction
A Dish Best Served Salted. Runner-Up in Legends Rewritten Challenge.
The man in the water is dying, or he will be soon. Hopefully. Ryelle tilts her head and looks through the glass at him. Maybe she's remembering the first time she'd seen those loose black curls, framing those cheekbones and waving in that ghostly way hair does when it's underwater. Her own makes a red cloud, like blood. Now, it hangs limp and snarled around her shoulders.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
The Weight of Silence
Follow this link for part 2 of this story. The park lights flickered faintly as Aarav sat on the cold bench, his breath visible in the chill of the night. His mind drifted, not to the park around him but to Meera—the unexpected encounter at the café, the words they had shared, and the silence that lingered between them afterward. Why had she come back the second time? Why did she say she was still trapped in her chaos? Aarav found himself grappling with emotions he thought he had buried. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone. Without allowing himself to hesitate, he scrolled to Meera’s number. Would she answer? The dial tone felt like an eternity, each second weighing on his heart. Finally, she picked up. "Aarav?" Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. "Meera," he breathed, relief washing over him. "I wasn’t sure if you’d answer." "Neither was I," she admitted, a faint hint of a smile in her tone. "What’s wrong?" "Nothing," he said quickly, then corrected himself. "Everything. I don’t know. I just... I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation." There was a pause, the kind that held more meaning than words could. "I couldn’t either," Meera said finally. "It’s strange, isn’t it? After all these years, we sit across from each other and realize the cracks never really healed." Aarav leaned back, his head resting against the cold wood of the bench. "Maybe we weren’t supposed to heal completely. Maybe we’re supposed to learn how to live with them." "Do you think that’s possible?" Meera asked, her voice tinged with doubt. "I don’t know," he admitted. "But I think we owe it to ourselves to try." Meera sighed on the other end of the line. "You know, Aarav, I’ve spent so much time pretending I was fine. Telling myself I was over it, over you, over everything. But sitting across from you yesterday... I realized how much I’ve been lying to myself." The honesty in her words hit him like a wave. "I’ve been lying to myself too," he confessed. "I told myself I didn’t need anyone. That I was better off alone. But the truth is, I’ve been running from everything—our past, my guilt, even my own emotions. And I’m tired, Meera. I’m so tired." There was another pause, but this one felt different. It was heavy with unspoken understanding, a shared acknowledgment of their pain. "Where are you right now?" Meera asked suddenly. Aarav glanced around. "At the park near my apartment. Why?" "Stay there," she said. "I’m coming." --- It didn’t take long for Meera to arrive. Aarav watched as she approached, her coat wrapped tightly around her against the cold. She stopped a few feet away, studying him for a moment before sitting beside him on the bench. Neither of them spoke at first. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged, as though the air between them carried the weight of everything they’d been through. "Why here?" Meera asked, breaking the quiet. "I don’t know," Aarav said with a shrug. "This place feels... honest. It’s quiet, but not suffocating. Like I can hear my thoughts without being overwhelmed by them." She nodded, her gaze distant. "I used to come to a park like this after everything ended between us. I’d sit on a bench just like this and wonder if you were thinking about me. If you missed me as much as I missed you." "I did," Aarav said, his voice raw. "Every day. But I didn’t know how to say it. I thought... I thought I’d ruined everything, that it was better if I just stayed away." Meera looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of pain and tenderness. "And now?" "Now," Aarav said, turning to meet her gaze, "I think we’ve spent enough time running. I think it’s time we face the chaos—together." She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she reached out and took his hand, her touch hesitant but firm. "You really think we can do that?" Aarav squeezed her hand gently. "I don’t know. But I’m willing to try, if you are." Meera smiled faintly, a glimmer of hope breaking through the shadows in her eyes. "Then let’s try." As they sat together on that cold bench, the chaos of their past didn’t disappear, but it felt smaller somehow. In its place was something new—something fragile, but undeniably real. Hope. And for the first time in years, Aarav and Meera weren’t afraid to hold on to it.
By Witness Love2 years ago in Fiction
Cultivating Balance in Your Garden of Wholeness
I first met Clara on a Tuesday morning. She was kneeling in the mud, her grey-streaked hair escaping a messy bun, replanting something that the storm had uprooted. She didn't look up when I approached, just patted the damp earth beside her.
By Ian Mark Ganut2 years ago in Fiction
Discover the Magic of Ayurvedic Medicine: A Natural Journey to Wellness!
Ayurvedic medicine, born in India, is a treasure trove of healing that spans 5,000 years. It champions harmony between mind, body, and spirit. Imagine addressing health issues at their roots with nature's bounty of herbal remedies!
By Ayurvedic Medicine2 years ago in Fiction
