Short Story

Bholu Bear and the Crocodile
B holu the bear was very thirsty, so he began drinking water from the river in the forest to quench his thirst. Bholu exclaimed, "Oh, wow! The water is so cold. It brings relief to my throat; otherwise, this scorching heat would have worsened the situation." Kanu, the cunning crocodile, lay in ambush along the River. Kanu was very clever and used to eat the animals that came to the river to quench their thirst even during the ceasefire days ensuring a steady supply of food. During the scorching heat when the forest reservoirs dried up, leaving only the waters of the river, a rule was in place that no other animal would attack the animals that came to quench their thirst. However, Kanu, with his crafty ways, regularly defied this rule, seizing opportunities to break it. Bholu exclaimed, "It is unbearably hot; I'll cool my feet in the river." As he immersed his feet, Kanu, lying in wait, swiftly clamped his jaws around Bholu's right foot. A sharp cry of intense pain escaped Bholu as the unexpected attack caught him off guard.
By Laxmi Dixit2 years ago in Fiction
Oliver and the Cloud Kingdom
The storm had come out of nowhere. One moment, Oliver was lying on the soft grass, watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky, and the next, he was being pulled upward by an invisible force. His small kite, which he’d been flying all afternoon, was now yanked out of his hands, spiraling into the stormy gray mass above. Before he could scream or scramble for the ground, his feet left the earth. Up, up, and up he went, his heart pounding louder than the thunder rumbling around him. Where was he going? Was this a dream?
By mobeen islam2 years ago in Fiction
Letters to Yesterday-A Love Story
In the heart of an old European village, nestled between cobblestone streets and ivy-draped cottages, stood a forgotten post office. Its wooden doors creaked with age, and its brass mailbox gleamed faintly under the weight of years. The villagers had long since embraced modern technology, leaving behind the quaint charm of handwritten letters. Yet, hidden within its dusty shelves were hundreds of unsent letters, their ink faded but their words brimming with longing.
By Himansu Kumar Routray2 years ago in Fiction
A Symphony of Souls
In the heart of Vienna, where cobblestone streets hummed with the echoes of centuries-old music, lived Clara Weiss, a gifted violinist. Her music was her language, speaking the words she could never voice. Each note she played told stories of longing and hope, resonating through the grand halls of the conservatory where she practiced endlessly. Yet, despite the applause and admiration, Clara's soul felt incomplete, as if a missing melody lingered just beyond her reach.
By Himansu Kumar Routray2 years ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker's Curse
Beneath the cobblestone streets of Evertide, nestled in the shadows of ivy-clad buildings, lay the workshop of Elias Grimsby, a master clockmaker. His shop, adorned with intricate brass cogs and chimes, was a beacon for those seeking to mend their broken timepieces or marvel at the artistry of his creations. But Elias bore a secret, one he shared with no one—not even the curious boy who often lingered outside his shop window. This boy, Thomas, was a child of the streets, his clothes tattered but his eyes sharp and inquisitive. He would press his face to the glass, mesmerized by the spinning gears and ticking clocks. Elias, though gruff and reserved, couldn’t help but notice the boy’s fascination. One brisk evening, he finally opened the door. “You’ll wear the paint off the glass,” Elias grumbled. “If you’re that curious, come inside.” Thomas hesitated, his bare feet brushing the threshold. “I won’t break anything,” he promised. Elias waved him in, and Thomas stepped into the warm, ticking sanctuary. The walls were lined with clocks of every shape and size, their hands moving in synchronized harmony. But one stood out—a massive, ornate grandfather clock at the back of the shop. Its face was adorned with celestial symbols, and its pendulum glowed faintly as if alive. “What’s that one?” Thomas asked, pointing to it. Elias’s expression darkened. “It’s not for sale.” “But—” “Not. For. Sale,” Elias snapped, his voice final. Thomas shrank back, but his curiosity was far from sated. Weeks turned into months, and Thomas became a regular fixture in the shop. Elias, despite himself, began to teach the boy the art of clockmaking. Thomas learned to handle delicate mechanisms, to shape gears with precision, and to respect the sanctity of time. Yet the grandfather clock remained a mystery, always watched but never explained. One stormy night, the shop’s bells chimed unexpectedly. Elias and Thomas exchanged a glance before Elias moved to the door. A cloaked figure stood there, dripping with rain. “You’re late,” Elias said grimly. The stranger stepped inside, throwing back their hood to reveal a striking woman with silver streaks in her hair. “I didn’t have a choice. The clock is acting up again.” Thomas watched in confusion as Elias led the woman to the grandfather clock. She placed a hand on its face, and the glow intensified, illuminating her worried expression. “What’s wrong with it?” Elias asked. “It’s… faltering,” she replied. “If it stops—” “I know,” Elias interrupted. “Stay back.” To Thomas’s amazement, Elias opened the clock’s front panel and stepped inside. It was no ordinary clock—it was a doorway. The woman turned to Thomas, her voice urgent. “Do not interfere, no matter what happens.” Before he could respond, Elias vanished into the clock, its pendulum swinging violently. Minutes stretched into an eternity. Then, with a deafening clang, the clock shuddered, and Elias staggered out, clutching his chest. His face was pale, his hands trembling. “It’s stabilized—for now,” he muttered. The woman nodded but looked unconvinced. “How much longer can you keep this up?” “As long as I have to,” Elias replied. Thomas, unable to stay silent, burst out, “What’s happening? What is that clock?” Elias sighed, his shoulders slumping. “It’s a prison,” he said. “For time itself. If it ever stops, the world will unravel.” The woman added, “Elias has been its guardian for decades, repairing its mechanisms when they falter. But the strain is… taking its toll.” Thomas’s gaze shifted to Elias, whose hands shook as he reached for a chair. “You’ve been doing this alone?” Thomas asked. Elias nodded. “It’s my burden.” “No,” Thomas said firmly. “It doesn’t have to be. You taught me everything about clocks. Let me help.” Elias looked at the boy, surprise flickering in his weary eyes. For the first time, he allowed a small smile. “You don’t know what you’re offering, boy.” “I know enough,” Thomas said. “And I won’t let you carry this alone.” The woman watched their exchange, a flicker of hope softening her stern expression. “Perhaps it’s time for a new guardian to learn,” she said. Elias hesitated, then nodded. “Very well. But this is no ordinary apprenticeship.” Over the next few weeks, Thomas learned the secrets of the grandfather clock. He discovered its intricate mechanisms, the arcane symbols that controlled its flow, and the immense responsibility it demanded. Elias grew weaker, but his spirit lifted as he watched Thomas embrace the task. One fateful evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Elias placed a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “It’s yours now,” he said, his voice faint but resolute. Thomas nodded, his heart heavy but determined. As Elias closed his eyes for the last time, the grandfather clock’s pendulum glowed brighter than ever, its rhythm steady and unyielding. And so, the boy who once gazed longingly through the shop window became the guardian of time, a silent protector of the world’s fragile balance.
By COU2 years ago in Fiction
The Marionette's Curse
The small village lay nestled in the shadow of the forest, its cobblestone streets silvered by the full moon's light. A crisp wind slinked through the trees, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke and damp earth. It was a night like any other in the quiet hamlet—until the Puppeteer arrived.
By Steph Marie2 years ago in Fiction
Genesis
“Hey,” she said, “eyes on me, okay?” I struggled to focus amidst the chaos all around us. I could barely make out her fiery eyes through my reflection in her visor, but I tried all the same.
By Bradley Ramsey2 years ago in Fiction
Look Up. Top Story - January 2025.
On a rarely perfect night, my father woke me with a whispered, “let’s look at the stars.” So, I stood next to him, as he lined up my grandfather’s old telescope, yawning and pulling my thick blanket close around my shoulders. Despite the light pollution from the city, in the early hours of the morning, when the city lights dimmed, the stars were beautiful.
By Alexander McEvoy2 years ago in Fiction
The Breakthrough. Top Story - January 2025.
The Breakthrough D. A. Ratliff Time had not been kind to the building that once housed the laboratory where we made the breakthrough. The breakthrough—it sounds so commonplace after thirty years.
By D. A. Ratliff2 years ago in Fiction
The Death of Calvin Dandy
The horse drawn wagon delivered the bodies of Calvin Dandy’s wife and son to the local graveyard. Calvin was not a rich man. He couldn’t afford a fancy carriage. The back of a buckboard had to do.
By Scott A. Gese2 years ago in Fiction
The Last Door
In the heart of a desolate mountain range stood an ancient fortress, long abandoned and eroded by centuries of wind and snow. Legend spoke of a hidden chamber within, sealed by the last door—a portal none dared open. For generations, adventurers had searched for it, driven by whispers of untold power and eternal knowledge. None had returned.
By Himansu Kumar Routray2 years ago in Fiction
A Heartbroken Artist's Journey to Rediscover Lost Hope
Segment 1: The Maimed Artisan There kept on a gifted expert named Lily in a particular town between moving slopes and pratting rivers. Her magnum opuses were addressed all over for their lively tones and proximity to one's home, top to bottom, that caught the style of the world with each line. Yet, beyond it, Lily had said a weight—her heart was broken by a warmth that took off, leaving her inclination loose and be. Her once precious stone world appeared to obscure, as though her life had broken down its tones.
By Tridib Borah2 years ago in Fiction