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My Best Friend Disappeared 10 Years Ago-- yesterday,She Liked My Post
Ten years ago, my best friend Emily vanished without a trace. It was the last day of summer break before we were set to leave for college. She said she was going for a walk to clear her head—she never came back.
By MALIK Saadabout a year ago in Pride
The Window That Never Opens Again
The Window That Never Opens Again There are some stories that live in the shadows of our memory, waiting for a quiet moment to speak. This is the story of a unique mother — my mother. By the time you reach the end, your eyes may well up too. For the longest time, I never understood how my mother always knew when I was coming home. As a child, when I returned from school, the door would open even before I knocked. During my college days, the moment I’d reach the gate, I’d see her face light up with joy, her warm smile waiting to welcome me home. She would greet me with love and prayers, then guide me to the courtyard where I’d sit near our brick stove while she made fresh roti. Her hands worked gently and skillfully — rolling, flipping, serving. And whenever she cooked my favorite dish, she’d challenge me in a playful tone. It became our routine. She’d place the hot roti into the basket and tease me to see whether I could finish it before she made the next one. Somehow, just as I took my last bite, the next warm roti would land on my plate. I never knew who really won, but I always left the meal feeling full — not just in my stomach, but in my heart. We had rules in our house. After sunset, we were not allowed to go outside. But time moved on, and after finishing my education, I got a job in Lahore. It required me to come home late at night. Yet, one thing remained the same: my mother’s routine. Even if I returned at dawn, I never had to use my key. I tried to be quiet so as not to disturb her sleep, but just as I reached into my pocket, the door would open. I would ask her how she always knew I had arrived. She would just smile and say that she could sense me. Then one day, she was gone. Her absence echoed through the house. The warmth, the light, the familiar scent of her cooking — all had vanished. The house felt like a body without a soul. One night, not long after her passing, I came home late again. I stood outside the door with my key, waiting. Nothing happened. I knocked softly. Still nothing. I waited longer, then knocked again. No answer. Eventually, I sat down on the steps by the door, leaning against the wall. I felt exhausted — not just from work, but from something deeper. I didn’t even realize when I fell asleep. The morning call to prayer woke me. As I rubbed my eyes, our neighbor — my mother’s close friend — opened her door and saw me. Concerned, she walked over and gently placed her hand on my head. She told me that my mother used to spend hours watching from the window facing the street. The moment she saw me entering the alley, she would rush down to open the door before I even got close. She said my mother never slept until I came home, no matter how late it was. Others in the house would get disturbed by the sounds in the kitchen late at night, but she didn’t mind. Her son was coming home. Then the neighbor looked up at the window, now firmly shut, and said softly that it would never open again. In a world where love is often measured by words or gifts, my mother’s love was different. It was quiet and unconditional. Even after she was gone, her presence remained in the corners of that house, like a faint scent in the air. Now, every time I come home and unlock the door myself, I feel the emptiness — not just of a house, but of the warmth that once lived there. And sometimes, I glance up at that window. And for a fleeting moment, I hope — hope that she is still there, watching over me.
By Habib Ullah about a year ago in Pride
May Micro Fiction with QVV #MayMicroMaker
Did someone say we need to queer up Vocal? Don't worry, QVV is here! [insert rainbow lasers and pew-pew sounds] It's been a hectic time in the world and in our Vocal-sphere, but it's also been a while since we released a challenge. We've been a tad busy. Hosting open mics, running in-group prompts and activites. But we've figured its high time we reached out and gave you an idea to play with for a chance at some momentary fame and fortune.
By Oneg In The Arcticabout a year ago in Pride
Protect The Dolls. Top Story - May 2025.
On April 16, 2025, the UK Supreme Court ruled that the "legal definition" of a woman is based on biological sex. Despite stating that transgender people are protected from discrimination under UK law, the Supreme Court continues to put forward laws that directly impact their safety. Equality Act 2010 " seeks to give statutory protection to people who are at risk of suffering from unlawful discrimination". It defines woman as:
By choreomaniasabout a year ago in Pride
Lavender Love
Continues from last episode. The bar lights were dim, humming low with the easy rhythm of a slow evening crowd. Chris sat hunched over her drink, the amber liquid catching what little light filtered through the slatted blinds. Her posture was still, unmoving, but her eyes were restless. She looked like someone trying not to drown, even in shallow water.
By My Life in Formabout a year ago in Pride
Lavender Love
Early morning sunlight filters through the blinds of a pastel green and white bedroom. The room glows softly with a warm, golden hue, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. A quiet stillness fills the space. The air is thick with unspoken tension as Chris and Armani wake, each silently lost in thought.
By My Life in Formabout a year ago in Pride
"Beyond the River"
In a small village nestled along the banks of a mighty river, there lived a young boy named Zayn. His life was simple yet full of joy. He had everything he needed loving parents, a warm home, and the company of his older sister, Layla. The two were inseparable, spending their days by the river, playing, laughing, and dreaming of adventures beyond the horizon.
By Muhammad Hayatabout a year ago in Pride
"The Last Light of Zoreon"
"The Last Light of Zoreon" In the year 3098, Earth was no longer the only home for humans. People had moved to many planets in the galaxy. One of those planets was Zoreon a beautiful world with silver trees, blue rivers, and two suns that lit the skies with golden light.
By Muhammad Hayatabout a year ago in Pride
Lavender Love
Chris, masculine and melanated with long, rich, dark locs, sat across from her wife, Armani, who was feminine and whimsical, at the dimly lit dinner table. Chris had always been the strong and thriving one; even when faced with stress and hurt, she seemed to remain unmoved. Armani, on the other hand, had always been sweet and kind in her approach but could become steel when needed.
By My Life in Formabout a year ago in Pride
