Short Story
My mother had me get married for financial gain
Because my mother wants her money, I'm now forced to put up with this terrible man molesting me. This is my love tale, and my name is Elena. He owns a chain of fast-food restaurants, did I mention that? Anything is possible for a woman who is married to a wealthy and "handsome" man like him. However, I refuse to wed him. I don't require his funds."Jesus, Mom, he's groping me right in front of you!"
By Abdul Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
Neverland Never Was
‘What would you say has been the hardest part of your recovery, Angela?’ Dr Pentonberry asks. I stare at my blue ballet flats, searching for the right words. Dr Pentonberry is lovely, she just doesn’t get it; nobody does. ‘The loneliness,’ I finally manage to whisper.
By Carla Greenfield2 years ago in Fiction
A Slice of Silence
The morning sun cast long shadows through the glass walls of Lilac's office in downtown Kampala. From her twentieth-floor window, she watched the city pulse with life—street vendors setting up their stalls, orange-jacketed boda boda drivers weaving through traffic, suited professionals hurrying to their morning meetings. The chaos below contrasted sharply with the quiet sanctuary she had created for herself in this space. She caught her reflection in the glass—medium height, jet-black hair pulled back neatly from her face, deep observant eyes that seemed to catch everything. Despite her height, Lilac had always carried herself with an effortless elegance that made her seem taller, more sophisticated. At twenty-nine, Lilac had carved out a respectable niche as a real estate development manager.
By Malaika Tatu Penda2 years ago in Fiction
The Essence of True Love: A Connection Beyond the Surface
What Love is one of the most profound emotions we experience—a force that transcends physical attraction and material desires. True love is not merely a fleeting infatuation or a fascination with someone’s appearance; it touches the essence of who a person truly is. When you love someone deeply, you connect with their soul—their kindness, quirks, fears, dreams, and everything that makes them uniquely themselves.
By Muhammad Waheed Asghar2 years ago in Fiction
The Road to Agafia. Top Story - October 2024.
A taxi dropped her off at a Shell petrol station on a ring road 17 km outside Moscow. She stepped out onto the dirty squelchy snow that was turning into puddles and looked up at the soggy early morning clouds.
By Kimberley Silverthorne2 years ago in Fiction
Traces Of Darkness
Prologue In a once peaceful city, darkness slowly descends upon everything. Behind the bright neon lights and the bustling sounds of nightlife, there is a world unseen by most. A criminal organization called the Nighthawks lurks in the shadows, planning dangerous and destructive illegal activities. Every transaction they make leaves a trail of fear in the hearts of the city's citizens, but few dare to fight back.
By Garuda Cipta Kreasinusa2 years ago in Fiction
Zabatha's Fury
Genius 6:9 Zabatha desperately desired children but she did not wish to share them with another God or Goddess. She wanted her offspring to be hers alone; possessions that no other could lay claim to. What Zabatha did not account for was that her children might some day turn away from her and reject the conditional gift of life she gave to them. The children conspired to banish Zabatha from their world and ultimately, they succeeded. Some say that if you look up at the sky on a clear night, you can see the purple star that Zabatha’s children trapped her in. They say she is always watching, searching for a way to return to her world and punish her children for their insubordination.
By Carla Greenfield2 years ago in Fiction
Sacred Soul
I’m too young to know the ugliness of the universe or the spectres that haunt the hearts of men. Yet I know them well—their violence, their masculinity, their dominance, and their control. I’m not sure what a good man is or what he might look like. I know I’ve never met one.
By Carla Greenfield2 years ago in Fiction
Angel of the Ice
This existence is not something I chose, and I am as much a victim as the rest of the souls I have driven to darkness; nobody will convince me otherwise. Allow me to start from the beginning and if, at the end of my tale, you still despise me, we shall go our separate ways. To love is to be willing to let go. I can do that; I can love you enough to keep you safe from me. But first I must make you understand. Growing up in Heaven is not the cakewalk you might believe it was. I grew up motherless, with a tyrant father who refused to accept anything less than perfection from His children. God demanded unwavering obedience; he ruled our family with a literal iron fist. The moment myself or any of my 332 siblings set so much as a feather out of line, that iron fist was used to banish us to Earth for eternity. Father would then create another angel to take the place of His fallen child—we were that disposable to Him. My siblings and I lived in constant fear, never knowing who would be next to be discarded. I was nineteen when my turn came.
By Carla Greenfield2 years ago in Fiction
