Young Adult
The Letter
A backpack is slammed into a nearby chair. *The sound of a coffee machine is brewing on a countertop.* Time felt as if it were at a standstill. No more than a brief second in a stopless motion. Frustration was brewing at the same rate as the coffee machine.
By Nozomi Rose10 months ago in Fiction
Cold Cuts: Chapter 1. Content Warning.
"Faith!" I called for my friend from the other room in the suite we were in. I needed her to tie up my dress and to see when she would be ready. We were both famous for being fashionably late, but we really needed to get to this venue on time tonight.
By scaldingblktea 10 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Sold Tomorrow. AI-Generated.
Gregor Vale had always believed time was not a river, but a marketplace. In the back corner of an old European alley, behind fogged glass and a tarnished brass sign, stood his tiny workshop — Vale & Sons: Custom Clocks Since 1882.
By shakir hamid10 months ago in Fiction
Cold Storage
The houses on Old Tanner Drive were some of the oldest homes in the city. It seemed they really knew how to build back then. They survived the earthquake of 1922, the blizzard of 1935, and the hurricane of 1947. While these three disasters nearly decimated the town, the five houses on Old Tanner Drive remained completely unharmed—not even a shingle was lost.
By David E. Perry10 months ago in Fiction
#6 CAUTION BRO! PLEASE SLOWDOWN... 🚧⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️🚧. Top Story - November 2025.
Ahanu "Nu" Kind-Heart had just returned home from visiting his best friend Squire "Ski" Reynolds in rehab. He could not believe his ears; his best friend Ski had just banned him from his life indefinitely.
By Tiffany Gordon10 months ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Spoke to Shadows. AI-Generated.
The Boy Who Spoke to Shadows Rayan was eight when he first noticed the extra shadow. It appeared on a quiet November night — the kind where the cold crept under doors, and the moon shone bright enough to make the whole room glow silver. He had woken from a dream he couldn’t remember, his heart beating too fast, his throat too dry.
By shakir hamid10 months ago in Fiction
Help Me Carry This To My Head
In the heart of a bustling market, where traders shout and feet shuffle in haste, a lone voice rises above the chaos. "Help Me Carry This To My Head! Help Me Carry This To My Head!" Foolish sits on the ground, knees pointed skyward, right hand raised in desperation. In front of him, a massive excavator bucket, filled to the brim with sand, towers toward the heavens. The weight of it is impossible, yet he refuses to lift even a handful. Lyard, a passerby, stops and stares. With one hand on her hip, she asks, “Carry what, Foolish?” "The sand, the excavator, the caterpillar… Help me carry it to my head!" Lyard sighs, shaking her head. "And how do you plan to do that? Have you even tried to lift some with your hands?" Foolish grins. "A handful? No! I want it all at once!" Passersby chuckle, shaking their heads. Some pause, amused by the absurdity. Others move on, indifferent to his cries. But Foolish remains, shouting, waiting… convinced that help will come. A gripping tale of misplaced effort, blind determination, and the irony of self-help. What happens when help finally arrives—only for Foolish to realize it’s too late? Will he rise, or will he remain trapped by his own stubbornness? Find out in Help Me Carry This To My Head, a powerful new work by Kalebe Kossi Numedo. Now published by The Dee Emergence. Follow The Dee Emergence on all social media platforms – YouTube, Facebook, Instagram. Because sometimes, the biggest burden… is refusing to lift yourself. (Final echo: “Help Me Carry This To My Head…” as the screen fades to black.)
By Kalebe Kossi Numedo10 months ago in Fiction
Second Chance
A Second Chance My day was off to a bad start. It all began when I woke up as I usually do by 4am, drenching in buckets of sweat and wondering why I couldn’t feel the blasted ceiling fan on me nor hear the swooshing of the blades as it spun around. I groggily stood up, carefully though, so as not to wake my two other siblings who I share the bed with. I traced my fingers on the wall to locate the light switch at the other end of the room and to my utter surprise, the click of the switch did not turn on any light, then, it sank in that ECG** (Electricity Company of Ghana) had done it again. Being so frustrated and irritated, I accidentally knocked my little toe on one of the furniture in the room. Ouch!!!
By Ewura Ekua Acquah10 months ago in Fiction
