Short Story

THE GREEDY MINISTER
There was once a powerful king who believed he understood everything about his kingdom and its people. One day, he decided to test his wise minister. Calling him to the court, the king said in a firm voice, “Tomorrow morning, you must bring me the worst thing in this entire country. If you fail, you will be punished.”
By Muhammad Yaseen5 months ago in Fiction
The North Wind And The Child
Introduction This is inspired by "North Wind" by Arthur Hughes from "At the Back of the North Wind" (1871) by George MacDonald which was shared by The Enchanted Booklet on Facebook:
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 5 months ago in Fiction
The world stops
Today was unlike none other. The sun pierced through my window, blinding me. Stepping out of bed, I swing myself toward the door and leave into the kitchen. Opening the fridge I grab the milk and a bowl and pour myself some cereal. I put the milk down and watch as the liquid inside the bowl settles unnaturally. The splashes froze in mid air as soon as I stepped away. But as I eat it flows around my spoon. The faucet usually drips but today, looking at the droplets suspended mid air. I walk outside and see a woman walking her dog. Her still figure glistening in the sun, and the dog's tongue hanging out its mouth for its eternity. The normal chirps in the morning sky, or the shaking of the trees, or even the cars on the street supposedly driving to their next destination. Everyone unknowingly picked their place as they waited for the clock to move somewhere, anywhere, but it never came. The lonely women, only accompanied by statues. She touched the woman walking her dog, hoping that she will move like the cereal. But her arms did not cross. She did not fall or speak or breathe. Death stared through her eyes as she stood, gripping the leash and hoping to one day bend her knees to the ground.
By pink wol5 months ago in Fiction
From a wish in secret to a pain that everyone sees
It was midnight—the hour when the soul either finds peace or falls into the abyss. I had nothing left but the desire to disappear from a reality that felt like a relentless war. I let myself drift into the shadows of addiction, seeking an artificial compensation for everything I had lost. With every memory of defeat, the dose increased, as if I were trying to drown my history in a chemical fog. I was an ordinary man until "She" appeared. She was like a veil placed over my eyes, hiding the entire world and leaving only her image. I began losing things, piece by piece, but I believed that everything was replaceable... except her. I abandoned my life and followed her to Turkey, never stopping to think about the consequences. Then came the call that shattered the illusion. My grandfather’s voice on the line: "Your father has died." In that moment, I felt my heart break before I even felt the pain. I ran. I ran as if death itself were chasing me, leaving behind the one person I thought I could never leave. On my way back, a second call from an unknown number: "Your mother has passed away." I collapsed to my knees. I looked toward the sky with eyes holding a sea of unshed tears, waiting for a moment of solitude to let me drown. The world turned black. I felt as if I were being thrown from the peak of a mountain. I woke up to a voice I didn't recognize. A strange, hauntingly calm voice. "What happened? Why can’t I see anything?" I asked. She told me she found me collapsed and brought me to her home. "Am I blind?" I screamed. She called it a temporary shock. Then, the seizures took hold of me. I cried out: "Is this the price for asking for love?" The last thing I felt was the sting of a needle in my neck. Suddenly, I felt paralyzed. I could hear everything around me, but my body was a cage. Memories played like cinematic scenes inside my mind, but words were heavy on my tongue. "Where am I?" I managed to whisper. "I am a medical student, and this is my home," she replied. "Who are you, and what happened to you?" "What happened to me... could never happen to anyone else," I said, struggling with the weight of my own voice. She replied with a chilling logic: "Do you know what happens to everyone else, to be so sure your pain is unique?" "What did you give me? I want to leave," I said. "You are free to go," she answered coolly. "If you can." "Is it because I am blind? Or because of the drugs?" I snapped. "It is because you don't know where you are going," she said. Stunned by her words, I asked, "What do you mean?" She leaned in and delivered the lethal blow: "What is your name?" And in that moment of silence, I realized I didn't just lose my sight. I had lost the very thing that defined me. Many people ask me: Why now? Why release my testimony at this specific moment? The answer is simple: We are living in an era of noise, where everyone is talking but nobody is listening to their own soul. I wrote these pages to be a sanctuary of silence—a place where you can finally stop, breathe, and have that long-overdue conversation with the person you were years ago.
By ALATTAR 5 months ago in Fiction
A Love Story: What’s Wrong . Content Warning.
Beep! Beep! Fuuck. Oh my fucking… Waking up to him giving her head and her phone alarm going off. “Baby wait!” She said trying to gather herself while grinding against his tongue.
By Ahnesia Johnson5 months ago in Fiction
The Account of John D. Thornly of the New World || no. 1
To the refined and distinguished, Doctor George Whitmore at Cambridge, Language and Literature department From: Clarence Martin, Curator, British Museum, London
By A Case Study in Storytelling5 months ago in Fiction
Fatina
When I was married, the three of them would get together outside of work, but I was never invited. I guess they assumed that because I had a wife, I had no need for a social life. Or maybe my wife wouldn’t let me hang out with three women, even if I spent 7 hours a day with them. If only they knew how much I need the interaction.
By LaZeric Freeman 5 months ago in Fiction
Andreas Szakacs on Michael: An Actor’s Reflection on Legacy, Performance, and Emotion
As an actor, I didn’t approach this film as a historian or critic. I approached it as someone trying to understand performance, emotion, and the weight of becoming a legend. And in that sense, the film offers more questions than answers.
By Andreas szakacs5 months ago in Fiction
Effie & Simon
Don't get too excited, I'm just re-publishing this one! +++++ Continued from Simon's journals When my mother was pregnant with Effie, I don't remember her having to go into hospital much. Only for, what I imagine were routine appointments (from which she always emerged smiling). And then of course, for the birth itself.
By L.C. Schäfer5 months ago in Fiction
The Woods
Mr. Jones was disappointed he chose today of all days to wear his new suit. He was proud that he looked presentable for the job, and he was able to properly adjust his black tie this time around. That all changed once that old smell appeared to him like all those months ago, and he did the only thing he could think of.
By Emy Quinn5 months ago in Fiction
The Knock
1 Eli had been watching the old woman for four days. He was good at watching. Years of it had made him patient, the way a stray cat learns patience. The woman was in her eighties, he guessed, and she lived alone in the ground-floor apartment at the end of the block. Every morning at a quarter past seven she came out with a cloth shopping bag, walked to the market three streets over, and stayed gone for three hours. Her locks were the old pin-tumbler kind nobody used anymore. Her kitchen window faced an overgrown strip of landscaping no one bothered with.
By Phoenix Wind5 months ago in Fiction
Love's Arena. Top Story - May 2026.
Night's euphoric glow in the long breath of stillness. A sharp, still air that hangs, as my voiceless words stumble in my throat. I am out of place here, a cut out, pasted down onto love's arena: a tournament of a woman, abandoned by her lover.
By Susan L. Marshall5 months ago in Fiction