Young Adult
The Silence of Forgotten Alarms
The Silence of Forgotten Alarms In the year 2147, the world was quiet—eerily so. No laughter echoed down the streets, no sobs slipped behind locked doors. Emotion had been outlawed decades ago, deemed the root of humanity’s destruction: wars born from rage, collapses from despair, revolutions sparked by love. The Global Unity Council declared feelings a dangerous contagion and passed the Stability Act—requiring daily neural dampeners to keep citizens “balanced.”
By Zaheer Uddin Babarabout a year ago in Fiction
Guardians And Angels | Chapter Four (Part 16)
The first time my best friend met my father, he had a gun pointed at my heart; the next, it was aimed at his own head. Two silent moments, nestled on the ledge of violence. Two chance meetings, bookends to a weekend that would change my young life and the lives of everyone around me forever.
By Christopher Dubbsabout a year ago in Fiction
Beneath The Flour. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
In the heart of a quiet town, nestled between the cobblestone streets and ivy-wrapped lamp posts, stood a small, fragrant bakery known for its warm meat pies and delicate chocolate tea cookies. The townsfolk adored the young woman who ran it—Elara, with her long dark hair, kind eyes, and a smile as sweet as her confections. She had a way of making people feel like home.
By V-Ink Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
Subjects Of The Duke
Visiting the Empire State capital city, Albany had a professional commitment stake, advertised and promoted as a good to firm opportunity. Hoping for a profitable investment day after spending networking time with Royal Ascot characters, the formal meeting had to go perfect, and the workplace rookie realized the importance. Within a second, she awaken, realizing reality arrived, and the group three bus came to a quick halt, doors opened wide.
By Marc OBrienabout a year ago in Fiction
Words on a Page
Echoes of a Love Lost The rain tapped softly against my window, as if nature itself was whispering the sorrow I tried to hide. I sat alone in my room, clutching a worn-out notebook, its pages filled with words I had never shared — words that spoke of a love that once burned bright but now only flickers faintly in the shadows of memory. I never thought it would end like this. Not in silence. Not with only words on a page. We met in the spring, when everything around us was blooming — the world bursting with color and promise. You had that smile that made the sun jealous, and eyes that held the calm of a thousand quiet lakes. I fell for you like a leaf carried by the wind — gently, irresistibly, without control. For a time, it was perfect. We shared dreams beneath starlit skies, whispered secrets in the dark, and promised each other forever in a language only our hearts understood. Every moment with you felt like a page from a storybook, written just for us. But life, I learned, isn’t always kind to stories like ours. The changes came slowly, like shadows stretching across a sunny room. Conversations grew shorter. Smiles became rarer. The warmth in your eyes cooled into something distant, like a winter that refused to thaw. I asked what was wrong, but you said nothing — only that you needed space. Space became distance. Distance grew into silence. You disappeared from my life as quietly as you had entered it. No dramatic farewell, no explanations — just absence. I was left clutching memories and the aching void you left behind. I tried to reach you, to find a reason in the silence. But you were gone. That’s when I began to write. At first, the words were clumsy, awkward — reflections of my shattered heart. But slowly, the pages filled with the truth I couldn’t say aloud. Letters to you that would never be sent. Stories of what we were, what we lost, and what I wished could have been. > “I still remember the way your hand felt in mine — warm, steady, real.” “I miss your laugh echoing through the empty rooms.” “I wonder if you ever think of me, or if I’ve become just a ghost in your past.” Each word was a drop of pain, a spark of hope, a whisper of love. The notebook became my confessional, a place where I could pour out the fragments of a heart broken but not yet healed. Sometimes, I wonder if you ever read those words in your mind. If they reach you across the miles and the silence. Maybe they don’t. Maybe they’re only for me — a way to hold onto you even as I learn to let go. The hardest part isn’t the goodbye. It’s the not knowing. The waiting for a sign that might never come. The endless question of “why?” Why did we drift apart? Why couldn’t love be enough? Why am I still here, writing words that won’t change anything? Tonight, as the rain falls and the world outside blurs into gray, I understand that some stories don’t have neat endings. Some love doesn’t heal with time; it simply becomes a quiet ache beneath the surface. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe love isn’t just about being together. Maybe it’s about the courage to feel deeply, to remember honestly, and to keep living even when the heart breaks. So I write. I write for the love that was real, even if it didn’t last. I write for the lessons learned and the memories that refuse to fade. And maybe, someday, I’ll close this notebook and find peace in the silence. Until then, these words on a page are all I have left of us.
By Huzaifa Writerabout a year ago in Fiction
Sixteenth Summer
I really have no idea what the hell happened. That summer was supposed to be the summer. For the first time ever, I had made friends. Our penny-pinching school had finally sprung for a class-wide trip, the first ever I had been on. Two whole weeks in Disneyworld: nothing but sun, fun, and the hottest girls in my class strutting their stuff in bikinis around the hotel swimming pool. What more could a sixteen-year-old guy ask for?
By Natalie Grayabout a year ago in Fiction
The City That Dreamed Itself . AI-Generated.
In the heart of a desert where no map dared to extend its lines, there once appeared a city — not built, not planned, but dreamed. Travelers swore it had not existed the day before. Sand dunes that once rolled endlessly now bristled with towers made of mirrored stone, reflecting not just the sky above, but the desires buried deep within whoever gazed at them.
By Atifa Iqbalzadaabout a year ago in Fiction
How Jane Turned a Layoff into a Launchpad
Introduction: A Career at a Crossroads Jane Alvarez had spent a decade building a career with a Fortune 500 firm in marketing. Her strategic mind, her detail-oriented nature, and her ability to transform data into compelling campaigns made her an indispensable member of the team. But then she received an email in the spring of 2023 that would change the direction of her professional—and personal—life: her position was being cut as part of a restructuring initiative. Thirty days’ notice was given, and Jane was thrust from safe familiarity into the uncertain world of unemployment.
By Martin Williamsabout a year ago in Fiction
