Young Adult
Veil of Silence
The air was thick with moisture, as if the sky itself had sunk into a deep, quiet grief. Gentle raindrops tapped against the windowpane like a heart quietly breaking, piece by piece. Inside the dimly lit room, silence reigned — a heavy, echoing silence. Amidst it, Sarah sat on an old couch, flipping through the pages of her life like an old, worn-out diary.
By Taslim Ullahabout a year ago in Fiction
Kid vs Monkey
Tommy was no ordinary kid. At ten years old, he was full of curiosity and always up for an adventure. Today, he was visiting his grandmother’s countryside house, right next to a sprawling jungle. Everyone in the village whispered stories about the jungle—mysterious creatures, hidden treasures, and especially one clever monkey named Kiki, who was known as the trickiest animal around.
By YOUNG MINDSETabout a year ago in Fiction
The Second First Time
I've been watching Professional Wrestling since I was old enough to understand what was on the screen. I've always been fascinated by the stories, the people, the moves... The dedication and friendships, and the feuds. It's truly captivating, the things these people can do. I am constantly amazed. Every match, every promo, every video... It's truly remarkable, I honestly believe it's something I will always be a fan of.
By Mara Edwardsabout a year ago in Fiction
Squid Game final season review – an ending so WTF it entirely beggars belief
After a wild new player is forced to join the game without consent, the action gets even more operatic and bloodthirsty. But if you can get on board with the twists – and that’s a big if – you will not believe what happens in the last minute
By SHYAKA MARSabout a year ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Could Borrow Time
In a sleepy town where the clocks always seemed a few minutes slow, lived a boy named Elian. He wasn’t like other children—he never hurried, never panicked, and somehow always arrived just before disaster struck. It wasn’t luck. It wasn’t instinct. Elian had a secret: he could borrow time. He discovered it when he was eight. His dog, Rolo, had darted into the street after a ball, and a car had come speeding toward him. In panic, Elian screamed—and the world paused. Not froze entirely, but slowed, like thick honey dripping off a spoon. He watched as the car inched forward sluggishly, and in that instant, he ran, scooped Rolo up, and jumped to safety. When it was over, Elian was exhausted. A sharp ache pulsed behind his eyes, and he slept for 14 hours straight. But Rolo was alive. Over time, Elian learned how to control it. He could "borrow" time—stealing moments from the future to use in the present. At first, it was innocent. Extra seconds to finish a test. A few moments to dodge a thrown ball. But every time he borrowed, he paid with fatigue, blackouts, and strange dreams of events yet to happen. By the time he was sixteen, Elian had mastered his gift. Time would ripple around him when he called on it. He could stretch a minute into five, outrun storms, avoid fights, and even prevent accidents no one else saw coming. But there were rules—harsh, invisible rules. The first: He could never borrow more than five minutes at once. The second: Time taken could never be given back. It was always deducted from his future. The third: If he borrowed too often, the future would bleed. Reality would bend, twist, and sometimes break. He learned this the hard way. One winter evening, Elian’s younger sister, Nora, fell through the ice at the lake. Without thinking, he borrowed time—more than he ever had. Ten minutes. Enough to sprint to the lake, dive in, and pull her out. But as he did, the world around him distorted. Colors flickered. Sound stuttered. And when he looked up at the sky, it shimmered like a broken mirror. Nora lived. But Elian collapsed, and when he woke three days later, he had aged two years. His reflection showed a boy of eighteen—but he had only just turned sixteen. His mother cried when she saw him. “What’s happening to you?” she asked, her voice trembling. Elian didn’t answer. He began to see the future in fragments—flashes of things not yet done. A fire at school. A stranger crying at the train station. A friend’s betrayal. The more he tried to change what he saw, the more his own future unraveled. Time, it turned out, was jealous. It didn’t like being stolen. One night, Elian met a man in the woods—an old, pale figure draped in black, his eyes like dark pools of midnight. “Borrowing time?” the man rasped. “Or gambling with fate?” “I saved lives,” Elian replied. “And shortened your own,” the figure said. “Each moment you take brings your end closer. You’ve bartered years for seconds.” Elian's heart pounded. “Can I stop?” The man gave a chilling smile. “Only if you return what you've taken.” “But how?” “By giving it to someone else.” Elian stood frozen. Give time to someone else? What would that even mean? The man vanished into the night, leaving Elian with a choice—and a ticking clock. In the days that followed, Elian stopped using his ability. He let the moments flow, even when they were painful. He failed a test. Missed a train. Watched someone fall and couldn’t stop it in time. But something strange happened: the visions stopped. The headaches faded. His reflection looked normal again. Still, he had debts to pay. Then, one summer morning, Elian made his decision. He found a hospital volunteer program and signed up. He began spending hours with the elderly—listening, helping, talking. For every hour he gave, it felt like something returned. A lightness. A balance. One day, he met a dying man named Thomas. The doctors gave him weeks. Elian stayed by his side daily. On the last night, Thomas smiled and said, “You’re a strange boy, Elian. I feel like I’ve been gifted time.” Elian looked at the clock. He had. Quietly, Elian had learned the final secret: time borrowed can only be repaid with presence, compassion, and sacrifice. It could not be undone, but it could be balanced—moment by moment. Years later, Elian would no longer borrow time. But people swore he always seemed to show up just when they needed him most. They called it intuition. But deep down, Elian knew what it really was: A life paid forward, second by precious second.
By Mati Henry about a year ago in Fiction
The Secret of the Dragon Forest
The sun was shining warmly on the small village of Eichenfurt when Lina Baumgartner pushed her bike to the edge of the forest. The Dragon Forest lay silent, but something inside it seemed to whisper. "You don't belong here," she said softly and smiled. Gene Oh, that's why she was here.
By Raees Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
Trapped in Time
They say time is a river, but I’ve learned the hard way that it’s more like a maze—one you can get lost in forever. My name is Elen Tavor, and I was a junior temporal engineer aboard the Aion—a vessel designed not to travel through space, but through time itself. My job was to monitor the stability of our chronometric drive, ensuring the timelines we pierced didn’t fold in on us. The mission was supposed to be a simple diagnostic hop to the year 2307, a one-week scan, and then home. But something went wrong.
By Muhammad Asimabout a year ago in Fiction
10 Years of Marriage Equality
A Decade of Love and Progress Where were you on June 26, 2015? For me, it was a normal day at work. But that day changed history—it was the day same-sex marriage became legal across all 50 states in the U.S. We celebrated love, equality, and a hard-won victory for the LGBTQ+ community, activists, and everyone who believes in justice.
By Shafi Ullah Darweshabout a year ago in Fiction
