Short Story

The Truth About Sugar and Its Effects on Health
Sugars exist in almost every diet today even though few people understand the effects it has on their health. People have heard all their lives that if you consume any sugar you will become overweight, develop diabetes, and contribute to heart diseases. As with so many things, moderation is key when it comes to sugar, with the quantity and type of sugar being the most important.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharing2 years ago in Fiction
Heavensent
Heavensent By K. R. King Part 1: A Gift from the Sky Marta’s fingers brushed against the leather of her father’s old journal. She hadn’t seen it in years—since he disappeared without a trace. The journal had been the only thing left behind, a cryptic record of his last days. It was in this journal that she had found a description of a strange bracelet, mentioned in passing but with an unmistakable sense of urgency. The bracelet was described as an ancient artifact, linked to powers that went beyond understanding. Her father had searched for it for years, and now, Marta was holding it in her hands.
By Kat King2 years ago in Fiction
Beneath a Bloody Sky: Legends of Worswit – The Blood Rain Prophecy (unabridged)
Prologue: The river ran backwards the day the queen vanished. The skies turned shades of black, and the air thickened in turbulence as our airship drifted high above the violent, reversed waters that had once sustained us. Our eyes strained through the darkness, searching for any sign of our lost queen. This was the beginning of a prophecy long foretold—a curse that would plunge the kingdom of Worswit into chaos and civil war.
By Kenneth cruz2 years ago in Fiction
The Queen Pelalandorus Incident
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. I remember it faintly. To others she was the Queen. To me, in halls unseen, she was just mother. Oh, my beautiful mother. How I miss her so.
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Fiction
I Am The Dream
This is what I am. I am the vision, I am the answer, I am the dream. When you surrender to the folds of Morbius' realms of sleep then you have me and I have you.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 years ago in Fiction
A War of Skulls and Horses
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. From the balcony of the royal keep, Thaudal Fairrehule watched the Loch drain through rivers and canals. As a boy, Thaudal was fascinated by the intricate system of locks that could turn Avergion into an impenetrable island at a moment's notice. The moment Gavrul’s army appeared, the garrison unleashed the flood waters onto the lowlands surrounding Avergion. Thaudal shuddered at its implications. Would she haunt him too? Would she be nothing more than a ghost of his boyhood joy?
By Matthew J. Fromm2 years ago in Fiction
Married To Vampire
The night was quiet, an eerie calm settled over the town. Ava sat on the edge of her bed, her heart racing with anticipation. The wind outside howled softly, carrying with it the scent of rain that had yet to fall. She looked out of the window, her eyes tracing the outline of the old mansion on the hill. It was there, behind the wrought iron gates, where her life had changed forever. A year ago, she never would have believed in the supernatural. Vampires, immortals, creatures of the night — they were things of folklore, stories to frighten children. But then she met him. His name was Lucian, and he was everything she had ever wanted: mysterious, darkly handsome, and irresistibly charming. She had crossed paths with him at a local library, where a simple conversation had turned into hours of deep, philosophical discussions. At first, she didn’t suspect anything unusual about him. His pale skin, piercing green eyes, and flawless features could easily be explained by genetics. But there was something in his gaze, something in the way he looked at her, that sent a chill down her spine. The truth had come to light one night when she followed him home. She had overheard a conversation in which he had spoken of a "blood banquet" and the need to keep "the pact" to preserve his immortality. Her curiosity had driven her to the mansion that loomed at the edge of town, where she finally saw what Lucian truly was — a vampire, a creature whose existence she had once dismissed as fantasy. He had been waiting for her. His smile had been warm, yet predatory. “Ava, my love,” he had said, his voice like velvet. “You should not have come here, but since you did, you must know the truth.” He had taken her hand, leading her through the dark halls of his ancient home, a place where time seemed to stand still. “I am not like other men,” he had confessed. “I am bound by an eternal curse, one that I cannot escape. But I can give you a choice. You may leave, and forget all of this, or you may stay... and be with me forever.” It had been a hard decision. She had never believed in the supernatural, and yet, in the depths of her soul, she knew that Lucian was offering her something no one else could. The chance to live a life beyond ordinary limitations, to be with a being who had seen centuries come and go, a love that would last for eternity. But there was a catch. To stay with him, she had to become like him. “I will not ask you to make that choice lightly,” he had said, his voice soft and full of sorrow. “But if you choose to stay, you will be bound to me forever.” Ava had spent weeks agonizing over her decision. She could not walk away from Lucian; the love she felt for him was undeniable. Finally, she made up her mind. She had gone back to the mansion, finding him standing by the grand staircase, waiting for her. "I choose you," she whispered, her voice trembling. Lucian had smiled, and in that moment, she knew her life would never be the same. The transformation had been painful, but the love they shared was worth every agonizing moment. Ava’s body had burned with the fire of change, her senses heightened to an almost unbearable level. When it was done, she stood before him, no longer human but something more. She was his equal now, bound to him in ways that transcended the mortal world. As the years passed, Ava learned what it truly meant to be with a vampire. The nights were long, filled with passion, but also with a dark loneliness she couldn’t explain. She watched as those she had once known aged and passed away, while she remained unchanged. The love she shared with Lucian was beautiful, but it was also isolating. No matter how much they loved each other, there would always be a barrier between them and the world of mortals. But she didn’t regret her choice. Lucian was hers, and she was his. Together, they would walk through eternity, their love eternal, their bond unbreakable. She had married the vampire, and in doing so, had discovered a love that defied time itself.
By zulfi bux2 years ago in Fiction
Double Trouble
It was a quiet Friday evening when Nora found herself staring at the clock, watching the seconds tick by. The rest of the world seemed to be bustling with excitement, but she was stuck in her small apartment, trying to finish an article for her freelance work. The phone buzzed, snapping her out of her trance. A message from her twin sister, Lara, popped up on the screen: "Double Trouble tonight?" Nora smiled at the message. Lara always had a way of turning the mundane into something adventurous. Their bond had always been strong, and their shared sense of mischief had led to countless memories over the years. But tonight felt different. Nora was exhausted from a week filled with deadlines and overwhelming tasks. Still, the idea of some spontaneous fun was too tempting to resist. "Why not?" Nora replied, tapping out the message. She quickly packed up her things and grabbed her jacket. She wasn't sure what exactly Lara had in mind, but she knew it would involve trouble in some form or another. When Nora arrived at Lara's apartment, she was greeted with a wide grin. Lara was always full of energy, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Tonight, we make it unforgettable," she said, as if Nora had any choice in the matter. Lara's plan was simple: they would sneak into an exclusive rooftop party happening nearby. The invitation list was strictly by referral, and neither of them had the right connections to get in. But Lara was never one to shy away from a challenge. "How are we even going to get in?" Nora asked, already feeling the weight of her skepticism. Lara winked. "Leave that to me." They dressed in their most glamorous outfits, not quite fitting the usual crowd, but enough to blend in if they played it right. Nora had her doubts but couldn't help feeling a rush of adrenaline as they approached the building where the party was happening. The bouncer at the entrance gave them a look, eyeing their mismatched confidence, but Nora noticed the faintest twitch of recognition in his eyes. "Your names?" he asked, his voice cold but not unkind. Lara shot him a smile. "We’re here for the music, not the list," she said, and before he could respond, she slipped her arm through Nora's and made a bold move, walking past him. To her surprise, the bouncer didn’t stop them. They were in. The rooftop was alive with lights, laughter, and music, the energy palpable in the air. Nora could feel the tension in her shoulders ease as the beat of the music resonated through the crowd. Lara led them toward the drinks, where they took a moment to take in the scene, trying to act as though they belonged. It wasn’t long before they were noticed. The crowd began to part as they walked through, whispering about the new arrivals. Nora caught sight of a few curious glances, but she followed Lara’s lead, her usual reservations slipping away. The night unfolded as they had hoped—fun, wild, and unpredictable. Yet, as the night wore on, Nora couldn’t help but wonder whether this moment of rebellion would catch up with them. Eventually, the inevitable happened. The music grew louder, and more drinks flowed. One of the guests, a man she didn’t recognize, caught Nora off guard by pulling her into a conversation. His smile was charming, but there was something about him that made Nora uneasy. He began to ask questions about where they were from, how they knew the host. His voice lowered, and a flicker of suspicion danced in his eyes. Before things could go further, Lara appeared at Nora’s side, her smile wide and mischievous. "Everything okay, sis?" she asked, subtly pulling Nora away. The tension between them dissipated as they headed for the exit, leaving the party behind. As the cool night air hit them, Nora let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. "That was close," she whispered. Lara only laughed, looping her arm through Nora’s. "That’s what makes it fun," she said. "Double Trouble never ends with a dull moment." They walked down the street, knowing that the memory of tonight would linger far longer than the adrenaline rush. And even though they had pushed the boundaries, Nora couldn’t deny that the trouble had brought them closer, reminding her that sometimes, a little chaos was exactly what they needed.
By zulfi bux2 years ago in Fiction
Drum Majorette parade
The Drum Majorette Parade was a spectacle that had become a tradition in the small town of Pinehurst, where each year, the streets would come alive with colors, music, and a sense of pride that seemed to bind the entire community. It was the day everyone looked forward to, from the youngest child to the oldest resident, all eager to witness the majorettes, the marching bands, and the intricate choreography that filled the air with rhythm and excitement. This year was different, though. It marked the 50th anniversary of the parade, and the town had gone all out to make it special. As the sun began to set on that warm autumn day, the streets of Pinehurst were lined with families and friends, each eager to claim a spot along the parade route. Children ran up and down the sidewalks, their laughter mingling with the chatter of the adults who had come to see the show. At the head of the parade, as always, was the drum major—Captain Ava Simmons. She had been leading the majorettes for years, ever since she was a teenager. What started as a dream had turned into a calling, and over the years, Ava had earned the respect and admiration of the entire town. Her poise, her precision, and her unwavering confidence were the heart of the parade. It wasn’t just the high-stepping majorettes or the marching bands that made the event memorable; it was Ava’s leadership that transformed it into something truly magical. Ava stood in front of her mirror that morning, adjusting her uniform, the sparkling gold trim catching the light. It was a perfect fit, just as it had been since her first year in the parade. Her heart raced in anticipation, not because she was nervous, but because this year felt different. There was a deep sense of responsibility that weighed on her. It wasn’t just another parade; it was a celebration of the community’s history, a reflection of how far they had come. She was the one who would lead them into that next chapter. As she made her way to the parade starting point, Ava’s thoughts wandered briefly to her childhood, when she had been a young girl watching the parade with wide eyes. She had always dreamed of being the drum major, twirling her baton with grace and commanding the attention of the crowd. She had worked hard to make that dream a reality, but she knew that the real magic was in the people who lined the streets, who cheered and clapped for the majorettes as though they were the town’s own daughters. The parade began, the sound of drums echoing in the distance, and Ava felt the familiar rush of adrenaline. The band marched forward, followed by the majorettes, each one performing a routine that they had practiced for months. The crowd cheered, their voices rising above the music, and Ava led them down the street with the same confidence she had always carried. But as they neared the town square, something unexpected happened. The parade halted as a sudden gust of wind blew through the streets, sending a flurry of leaves into the air. For a brief moment, everything seemed still, the music fading as the crowd waited. Ava took a deep breath, sensing that the parade needed a little something extra to lift the moment. She raised her baton high, signaling the band to start playing again. The sound of the drums filled the air, and Ava led the majorettes into a spontaneous, synchronized routine. It was a moment of pure joy, a perfect harmony between the performers and the crowd, who began to clap along with the beat. The crowd erupted into applause as the majorettes twirled and danced in perfect unison, their energy infectious. In that moment, the entire town of Pinehurst came together, celebrating not just the tradition of the parade, but the spirit that had carried them through the years. The streets seemed to vibrate with life, with pride, and with the knowledge that they were a part of something much larger than themselves. As the parade drew to a close, Ava looked out at the crowd, her heart swelling with gratitude. She had led them through the years, and today, she had led them to a new beginning, where the past and the future blended seamlessly in the rhythm of the drum.
By zulfi bux2 years ago in Fiction
My Favorite Fish Biryani
It was a bright and sunny afternoon when Sara decided to prepare her favorite dish—Fish Biryani. This wasn’t just any dish; it was a family tradition, passed down from her grandmother, who had always insisted that the secret to a great Biryani was in the balance of spices and love. Sara had learned the recipe by heart, and every time she cooked it, memories of her childhood flooded back. The kitchen smelled of fragrant spices, and the sounds of sizzling oil and aromatic rice reminded her of the moments spent with her grandmother, listening to her stories while she worked her magic in the kitchen. Sara had always admired how effortlessly her grandmother managed to turn simple ingredients into something extraordinary. It was in the way she handled the fish, the careful layering of rice and spices, and the final touch that made each bite a delight. Now, Sara was determined to replicate that magic in her own kitchen. She pulled out the ingredients from her pantry. For the fish, she had chosen tender, boneless pieces of kingfish, which her grandmother had always favored. The key, her grandmother would say, was to use fresh fish, as it made the Biryani even more flavorful. Sara also gathered basmati rice, onions, tomatoes, yogurt, garlic, ginger, and the aromatic spices that would infuse the dish with its signature taste—cumin, coriander, cinnamon, and cloves. As she began preparing the dish, the first step was marinating the fish. Sara mixed yogurt, ginger-garlic paste, red chili powder, turmeric, and salt in a bowl and coated the fish thoroughly with the mixture. She set it aside to marinate for about 30 minutes. This was an important step, she remembered. The fish needed to absorb the flavors well before it was cooked, so patience was key. While the fish marinated, Sara worked on the rice. She soaked the basmati rice for about 20 minutes, allowing the grains to expand and soften. In a large pot, she brought water to a boil, adding a pinch of salt and a few cardamom pods. Once the water was boiling, she added the rice and let it cook until it was just underdone. The rice would continue to cook later when layered with the fish, ensuring it remained fluffy and light. Next, she prepared the fried onions, a crucial element that added both texture and sweetness to the Biryani. She thinly sliced an onion and fried it in hot oil until it turned golden brown. The smell of the onions frying brought a sense of comfort to the room, reminding Sara of the many times she’d sat with her grandmother while the onions sizzled in the pan. Once the onions were done, Sara started to cook the fish. She heated some oil in a separate pan and fried the marinated fish pieces until they were golden on both sides. The fish cooked quickly, and she made sure not to overdo it, knowing that the fish would finish cooking when layered with the rice. After the fish was cooked, she set it aside to rest. The final stage was the layering. In a large, heavy-bottomed pot, Sara spread a layer of rice, followed by a layer of fish. She then added some chopped tomatoes, a sprinkle of garam masala, and a handful of fresh coriander and mint leaves. Another layer of rice went on top, followed by more fish and the same aromatic spices. She repeated this process until all the rice and fish were layered. To finish, she poured some saffron-infused milk over the top and sealed the pot with a dough lid. The pot was placed on low heat for about 20 minutes, allowing the flavors to meld together, and the rice to cook fully. The house was soon filled with the tantalizing aroma of Fish Biryani, and Sara couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t just a meal; it was a connection to her roots, to her grandmother, and to the many family gatherings where this dish had been the star. When the Biryani was finally ready, Sara carefully opened the pot, revealing the beautifully layered dish. The fish was tender, the rice perfectly cooked, and the spices had blended together in a way that made her heart swell with pride. She plated the dish and took a bite. It was everything she remembered—flavorful, fragrant, and comforting. Sara knew that with every plate of Fish Biryani she made, she was keeping a family tradition alive, passing it down to the next generation. And as she savored the first bite, she couldn’t help but feel her grandmother’s presence, guiding her, just as she always had. **Recipe for Fish Biryani:** Ingredients: - 500g fish (kingfish or your preferred variety) - 2 cups basmati rice - 2 medium onions, thinly sliced - 2 tomatoes, chopped - 1 cup yogurt - 1 tablespoon ginger-garlic paste - 1 teaspoon red chili powder - ½ teaspoon turmeric - 1 teaspoon cumin powder - 1 teaspoon coriander powder - 1-inch cinnamon stick - 2-3 cloves - 2 cardamom pods - Fresh coriander and mint leaves - Saffron strands soaked in warm milk - Salt to taste - Oil for frying Method: 1. Marinate the fish with yogurt, ginger-garlic paste, red chili powder, turmeric, and salt. Let it sit for 30 minutes. 2. Soak the basmati rice for 20 minutes, then cook it partially in boiling salted water with cardamom pods. 3. Fry the onions until golden brown and set aside. 4. Fry the fish pieces in hot oil until golden on both sides. Set aside. 5. Layer the cooked rice and fish alternately in a large pot, adding chopped tomatoes, garam masala, and fresh coriander/mint in between layers. 6. Drizzle saffron-infused milk on top and seal the pot with dough. 7. Cook on low heat for 20 minutes, then serve hot. Enjoy your delicious Fish Biryani, filled with love and memories!
By zulfi bux2 years ago in Fiction
The Gangster
Rain poured relentlessly as the city streets reflected a million lights from nearby skyscrapers, each one distorted in puddles of murky water. Jameel, known to most as "The Gangster," had a reputation built on fear and ruthlessness. The kind of man who could silence a room with a mere glance. Yet beneath the layers of power, he had buried secrets darker than the shadows of the alleys he ruled. Jameel wasn’t born into this world of crime. Once, he was just a boy from a poor neighborhood, watching his mother scrape by on minimal wages. But the weight of poverty can twist a soul, and soon enough, he learned that the quickest way to power wasn’t through hard work—it was through taking what he wanted. And so, at the age of sixteen, he made his first move into the world of crime. It started small—petty thefts and street brawls—but quickly escalated to dealing and smuggling. His climb was fast, his ambition unmatched, and he soon had a gang loyal only to him. The street was his kingdom, and he ruled with an iron fist. Yet Jameel had one unbreakable rule—never harm the innocent. He had seen too much innocent blood spilt in his youth to ever cross that line himself. But in his world, a line could be erased with the swipe of a gun, and one night would prove that even his deepest convictions weren’t immune to being shattered. It was supposed to be a routine deal. A shipment was arriving at the docks, and Jameel needed to oversee its exchange. As his crew loaded crates onto an unmarked truck, Jameel sensed something was off. A feeling, faint and unsettling, crawled under his skin. His instincts, honed from years of living on the edge, told him to watch every corner, every shadow. That’s when he saw her—a woman, no older than twenty, watching from the sidelines, her face partially hidden by her scarf. Her eyes, piercing and familiar, seemed to look straight through him. Jameel recognized her; she was Nadia, the younger sister of a man he had once called his best friend. That friend had died two years ago, betrayed and left to rot in a gutter because he had crossed Jameel. The sight of Nadia, looking at him with a mixture of hate and pain, brought a rush of memories he had tried to bury. Before Jameel could approach her, the sound of gunfire erupted. His enemies had set a trap, and the docks became a chaotic scene of bullets and screams. In the chaos, Jameel fought back, but his mind kept drifting to Nadia. He scanned the scene desperately, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Then, amidst the smoke and the bodies, he saw her huddled behind a crate, her face streaked with tears and fear. With instinct taking over, he ran towards her, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of harm’s way. They ducked into a dark alley, breaths heavy, hearts racing. She looked at him, her eyes filled with a fury that words couldn’t express. “You killed him,” she whispered, her voice trembling with both fear and hatred. “You took my brother away.” Jameel stood silent, unable to deny it. He knew that his path had been littered with the lives he’d destroyed, but until that moment, he had never seen the impact of his actions in such a raw, human form. Nadia didn’t wait for an apology. “You ruined us. My family’s in shambles because of you.” Her words cut deeper than any bullet ever had. Jameel realized, perhaps too late, that he had crossed his own line, the line he had sworn never to break. The sound of sirens in the distance grew louder, snapping them both out of the intense silence. “Go,” he said, urging her down the alley. “Leave before they find you here.” Nadia hesitated, then turned and ran, her figure disappearing into the shadows. Jameel watched her go, feeling a strange emptiness settle in his chest. As the police closed in, Jameel knew that his time was up. He’d spent his life building an empire, only to watch it crumble in the hands of a woman he had wronged. He let himself be taken, almost welcoming the iron cuffs that clamped around his wrists. Maybe, he thought, this was his penance. In the end, “The Gangster” was no longer the legend, but just a man facing the consequences of his choices, haunted by the memories of those he’d betrayed, and left with a single face burned into his mind—the face of a woman who reminded him of the humanity he’d lost.
By zulfi bux2 years ago in Fiction
When You Gotta Go
You might be wondering why a grown man is hiding in the bushes with his trousers round his ankles. Several years ago I had an impacted bowel. Worry not, we won't linger on it. Suffice to say it was the most painful experience of my life. Recently, I became constipated, so this morning, I decided to take up regular walks in the nearby woodland to get things moving. It was a good day to start: clear, dry and bright. The trees a riot of red and gold, the path firm underfoot. It worked! The problem: the Urge struck deep in the wood, at the furthest point on my route from my home. If I'd never had impacted bowel, I might've clamped my cheeks shut and hurried homeward, hoping for the best. The experience was a stark memory, though. I was keen to avoid repeating it. I know from experience: if I held it in, it might be days before my body deigned to co-operate again. I hadn't encountered a soul on my little constitutional. Thinking myself safe, I shuffled behind some bushes, dropped trow, and squatted down. The late Autumn air nipped at my buttocks. It was like a monster leaving my body! It hurt. My position and the sheer weight of it ensured its inevitable evacuation. Trembling and panting, I felt, for a few minutes, what women surely feel when the baby emerges. The smell of it rose up like a pantomime demon. I might've gagged, except just then I heard movement on the path. And that, dear reader, is how you found me. Panicking, I fumble with my pants and retreat further into the undergrowth, trying not to rustle, and hoping they don't get an eyeful. I turn, peeping through the branches at a caramel coloured mutt. The owner appears a moment later. "Ugh, Rupert! What have you been eating?!" I watch him scoop up my poo in a bag. My cheeks burn. I daren't move, lest the crunchy leaves betray me. I cross all my fingers, praying Rupert won't sniff me out. The man walks away, still expressing his disbelief, the bag of my shit dangling from one hand, "I can't believe such a big shit came out of such a little dog!"
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction