Young Adult

Rain Fell, and So Did I
The sky was a heavy, bruised gray when I stepped outside that afternoon. I hadn’t noticed the weather report—probably because I didn’t want to. Sometimes, ignorance feels like protection. But as the first cold drops began to fall, I knew I was caught unprepared. The rain had come sudden and relentless, as if the heavens themselves were weeping for reasons I could only guess at.
By Haris Raheemabout a year ago in Fiction
The Shape of Love in the Dark
The world went dark for Lila one winter morning when her vision vanished without warning. It had begun with blurred shapes, flashes of light, and migraines. Doctors called it a rare degenerative condition—fast, irreversible, incurable. By the time the snow had melted, Lila lived in permanent night.
By Haris Raheemabout a year ago in Fiction
Mirage in the Mind
In 2049, the sky was no longer just blue or filled with clouds. It was a canvas owned by corporations—streaming dreams, desires, and illusions 24/7.
By Solene Hartabout a year ago in Fiction
The Bookshop Where Love Feels Illegal
The Bookshop Where Love Feels Illegal It never had a name on the door. Just a creaking wooden sign with no letters, swinging gently in the wind like it was keeping secrets. People called it “the quiet shop.” Some said it was haunted. Others never noticed it at all.
By Kevinabout a year ago in Fiction
Who's the real monster?
The stinging in my eyes began to wake me from a dreamless sleep. My stomach sank as the realization that my sunglasses were gone. Trying to lift an arm to cover my face let alone move my body proved to be in vain. Aside from stiff muscles that ached with every breath I took something like hard plastic was wrapped around my wrists and ankles. I couldn't move an inch. "Fucking prefect", I groaned.
By Lucy Torralbaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Balcony Across
The Balcony Across – Part 1 I first noticed him the week I moved into my apartment in Trastevere, Rome. It was supposed to be a short escape — three months of wine, cobblestone streets, and quiet evenings to work on my travel photography portfolio. My balcony overlooked a narrow, picturesque street lined with pastel façades, potted geraniums, and wrought-iron railings.
By Shakespeare Jrabout a year ago in Fiction
City of Dreams
In a city where millions pass each other without a second glance, two strangers unknowingly share something intimate: the same dreams.
By Solene Hartabout a year ago in Fiction
ADVICE !!!
You’re not stuck. You’re just waiting — for a perfect moment, a green light, or some invisible sign that it’s finally time. But here’s the truth: *no one is coming to tell you it’s your turn*. Life doesn’t wait for permission slips. Opportunities don’t knock on doors that never open. If you’ve been wondering when to write that book, start that business, leave that toxic situation, or just try something new — this is it. This is the moment. And it’s not because the stars are aligned. It’s because you’ve decided to stop waiting.
By FAIZAN AFRIDIabout a year ago in Fiction
“The Mirror Room”
M Mehran In the dusty attic of my grandmother’s house, tucked behind a tattered curtain, stood a door I’d never noticed before. The house was quiet that summer—too quiet, with Grandma gone and the air thick with the scent of old books and lemon polish. I had come to sort her things, but I ended up discovering something else entirely. The door creaked open with the weight of years. Inside was a small room, lit by a single stained-glass window. But it wasn’t the window that caught my attention—it was the mirror. It was massive, mounted to the far wall, framed in dark oak carved with twisting vines and strange runes. I stepped closer. The mirror shimmered—not like glass, but like water holding its breath. I saw my reflection. But something was... wrong. It wasn’t me. Not quite. My hair in the reflection was longer. My eyes carried a weight of pain I didn’t recognize. The reflection blinked a second too late. And then it smiled—a little too knowingly. I backed away. --- That night I couldn’t sleep. The mirror haunted me. I told myself it was just a trick of the light. A grieving mind, playing games. But I returned the next morning, unable to resist. Again, the mirror showed a slightly altered version of me. This time, she looked stronger. Confident. Wearing the red leather jacket I’d buried in the back of my closet years ago. The one I stopped wearing after he said it made me look like I was trying too hard. Was that me? The “me” I used to be? --- Day after day, I returned. Each time, the mirror revealed another version of myself. Some looked broken—crying, makeup smeared, gripping the edges of the frame as if begging to be let out. Others looked powerful—standing tall, dressed in clothes I never dared wear, smiling without apology. I began to wonder if the mirror wasn’t broken—but maybe I was. --- On the tenth day, I brought an old photo of myself—age 19, bright-eyed and loud and fearless. I pressed it to the mirror. My reflection mimicked me... then stepped back and waved. That night, I dreamed of mirrors. Thousands of them. In each, a different me. Some better. Some worse. All possible. When I woke up, something shifted. --- I went into town wearing the red leather jacket. I ordered my coffee the way I actually like it. I smiled at strangers. I said no when someone asked for a favor I didn’t want to do. And it felt... good. Like I was finally letting out all the versions of myself that had been locked away. --- I visited the mirror one last time before leaving. This time, my reflection matched me perfectly. No delay. No trick. But she winked before turning away and disappearing entirely, leaving behind just glass—and my own reflection. --- Years later, I still think about that mirror. About how grief cracks us open and lets in strange light. About how maybe, sometimes, the parts of us we lose are waiting—quietly, in rooms we’ve forgotten—to be found again. The mirror never followed me. But the lesson did: You are not only who you are. You are who you could be. And sometimes, all it takes is one moment of reflection to change everything.
By M Mehran about a year ago in Fiction
Incomplete Love
It was a quiet night. The moonlight draped the world in silver, and the breeze carried a gentle chill. But inside Shehzad’s heart, there was a fire burning—one that no wind could put out. His eyes held an ocean of unspoken pain, yet his lips still carried a faint smile. A smile that belonged to one girl only—the one who painted his world with colors and then left it gray.
By Solene Hartabout a year ago in Fiction
The Mirror Room🕯️. AI-Generated.
After her grandmother's death, Clara inherited an old Victorian house. It stood silent and dust-laden, the air thick with forgotten memories. But one room was unlike the rest—small, square, and lined wall-to-wall with mirrors. Her grandmother called it the Reflection Room.
By ElaheMindStoriesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Power of a Kiss
It was a night that felt like magic. The sky was painted deep blue, with clouds softly glowing under the full moon. Stars scattered like secrets waiting to be whispered. The cool night breeze carried a faint melody, and everything felt still — like the universe was holding its breath.
By Solene Hartabout a year ago in Fiction