Short Story
The Horror of the Abandoned House. AI-Generated.
The house had stood for decades, weathered by time but still looming on the edge of the dense forest, like a forgotten sentinel. Most people in the small town of Rayleigh didn’t dare to go near it anymore. They claimed the house had an aura—an invisible barrier that made your skin crawl as you approached.
By Dr Humaira Yousaf Mughal2 years ago in Fiction
Clouds; The Boy That Flew
In a tiny village lodged in the mountains sprouted a boy named Clouds. Even as a baby he would gaze upward to the passing clouds, his eyes filled with wonder. Extending his hands and naively trying to grab the clouds, he would giggle, in his father's arms.
By YonathanJ - Writer2 years ago in Fiction
The Garden of Second Chances
Marcus stared at the wilted tomato plant, its leaves drooping like the shoulders of a disappointed child. He fought the urge to check his phone for the hundredth time that morning, as if constant vigilance could somehow hurry along the growing process.
By Emily-Stories2 years ago in Fiction
The Long Game
Sarah drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, watching the seconds tick by on the dashboard clock. The kind of seconds that seemed to stretch, viscous and uncooperative, much like the line of cars ahead of her. Some truths come wrapped in ordinary moments, even those spent in gridlock traffic.
By Emily-Stories2 years ago in Fiction
The Invisible Thread
There's a particular weight to silence in the predawn hours, heavier, expectant, like the world holding its breath. Or at least that was what Derrick tried telling himself, sitting there staring at his computer screen, the cursor winking on accusingly at a half-finished report.
By Emily-Stories2 years ago in Fiction
The Space Between Us
How did I fucking get here? This is what I’ve been repeatedly asking myself for the last 10 minutes in my wine-clogged brain as I try not to stare at an unseemly piece of spinach lodged between Derek’s teeth. Or did he say his name was Eric? God, does it even matter? He’s cute, in a rugged frat-boy type of way—pale blue eyes that come off as flat and uninviting, sandy blonde hair that could use a little less gel. I like to run my fingers through a man’s locks, thank you very much. He’s got what looks like a swimmer’s lean and toned body under that boring blazer and khakis. He might be nice enough underneath it all, but I’ve lost the energy to pay attention to whatever he’s talking about—his “very big” and “very important” promotion to something or other. If I have to listen to another man drone on and on about himself and his accomplishments, I might just run away screaming.
By Erin Perez2 years ago in Fiction
A Window into Love: How Queer Representation Opened My Heart and Mind
A Window into Love: How Queer Representation Opened My Heart and Mind Growing up, my openness to eccentric encounters was restricted, best case scenario, and slanted even from a pessimistic standpoint. In the humble community where I resided, discussions about sexuality and orientation were either met with uneasiness or excused out and out. The LGBTQ+ people group was a theoretical idea, something that existed "elsewhere," yet never in my nearby world. It wasn't so much that I held onto any plain biases; it was more that I didn't have the foggiest idea. I wasn't educated to understand the encounters of individuals who were not quite the same as me along these lines, thus I had never truly pondered what it intended to carry on with a daily existence as somebody outside the parallel and hetero standards.
By Md Obydur Rahman2 years ago in Fiction
