Young Adult
The Quiet Ant
The Ant Who Carried Too Much There once lived a small ant in a thriving ant colony beneath the roots of an old tree, neither the fastest, the strongest, nor, by far, the cleverest of her kind. She did not construct the tallest towers or plow the deepest tunnels. She did not race or solve puzzles. Still, she had something lost that never, ever went away.
By Rohitha Lankaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Lighthouse Keeper s Daughter
The storm arrived with a vengeance, its howling winds tearing at the cliffs of Blackthorn Isle. Marin gripped the rusted railing of the lighthouse, her mother’s final words ringing in her ears: “Never let the beacon die. Not even for a second.” However, her mother had now vanished into the same sea that she had vowed to control. Marin hadn’t returned to the island in ten years. Not since her father’s fishing boat sank in these waters. But the lawyer’s letter forced her hand: “Inherit the lighthouse or lose it to the wreckers.” She’d expected dust and ghosts. The carved phrase, "For Marin, when the tides turn," on the lid of the locked trunk in the attic surprised her. Inside, she found her mother’s journals, nautical maps, and a child’s doll with one eye missing. The first journal entry chilled her:
By Md Johirul Islamabout a year ago in Fiction
"The Tiger Eats the Mother and Child.". Content Warning.
"The tiger eats the mother and child." In the middle of the deep forest where the moonlight only shone through, the sobs of the great hunter echoed in his heart. Guilt was eating away at his soul violently. He could not forget the image of his wife being dragged into the forest by the tiger, and his eldest son who almost lost his life in its clutches.
By Rohitha Lankaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Forgotten Bloom
In a world where the smell of flowers has been forgotten, where no one talks about nature anymore, only focusing on technology and abandoning its surroundings—a world tossed aside by its inhabitants—there is a lady who remembers the little details. Nyra is a quiet but observant girl who has always felt out of place for as long as she can remember. A collector of things—or should I say "useless things"—old books, charms, broken objects, and a lot of weird things. In one of her expeditions, she finds a mysterious pendant hidden away from sight in a strange-looking shop. She moves closer to observe it, but upon touching it, the shop mysteriously vanishes. She hid, examining the pendant, but had no clue as to what it was. Hiding it in her pocket, she went home. That night, she began having nightmares… seeing a woman in figure, flickering lights at home, elements attuned to her. One night, the woman spoke. "You're the last witch," she said. "Descended from a long-forgotten bloodline." In other dreams came flashes of memories from her ancestors—smiling faces and happiness filled the air, reminding her of the task at hand. Prophecies told of obstacles, close but far; the eruption of corrupt magic. For not all magic is good. The nearness of danger. Magic still exists, but it has long been buried and is slowly dying away. "You are its last chance. And remember, no matter what—never give away the pendant." In an attempt to get answers, she searched cliffs, old ruins, and anything unnatural she came across, breathing ruggedly with each passing minute—whether in excitement or fatigue, only she knew. The pendant, as if in tune with her breathing, pulsated with power and shone brightly, filling its surroundings. Suddenly, she was blocked by a mysterious figure—an agent of the anti-magic world, requesting the pendant she held. "I can't give this to you," she said. "Don't make me use the hard way," he said sharply. "I won't give this," she retorted. Words were exchanged, and seeing that she wouldn't budge, he said, "Bringing magic back could cause chaos in a 'perfect' world." She insisted that the world needs hope and wonder, a different feel from this empty one. The world needs to remember what it felt like before being overwhelmed by technology. Activating the pendant, she teleports, making an escape into an open field now destroyed. Using an emotional release through magic, she tries to restore the place. As if waiting for this moment, the earth sang, sprouting flowers out of it. The stars shone brighter, and everyone who saw that was left in awe. The return of magic—like gentle ripples. Nothing forced, but bringing life with it. From that day on, they no longer allowed technology to destroy what nature brings... the joy, laughter, serenity, and breaths of fresh air. They now remembered what it felt like. Now, she walks through a new, blooming world, the pendant glowing softly on her chest—a world where nature hums, giving hope, bringing goodness. In the end, one question fills the minds of everyone: Can magic ever merge with technology? Can elements be formed for that? Can the lines ever be made clear?
By Gift Abotsi about a year ago in Fiction
