Life
The Dream That Bound Us All
Every night, the people of Velmir dreamed the same dream. They would lie down in their little homes—men and women, children and elders—and the moment sleep overtook them, they’d find themselves walking a single, winding road under the same silver sky. The air always smelled of honey and smoke. The trees whispered the same words. And at the end of the path, a golden door shimmered.
By Muhammad Hamza Safiabout a year ago in Writers
She replied back years later...
I never anticipated that she would respond to my message. Not after I had poured my heart into that lengthy text—the kind that one reads multiple times before pressing send—and then she left me without a reply. There was no acknowledgment, no "I'm sorry, I'm not ready." Just an overwhelming silence. That was a year ago. Her name is Ada. We first crossed paths at church camp. While she wasn't the most boisterous person in the room, she possessed a captivating energy that drew people towards her. She would smile at you as if she already understood your secrets, yet she never judged. Our connection developed quickly; we shared conversations about life, our aspirations, and everything in between. Then, one evening, under a sky full of stars, and without a filter on my emotions, I confessed my feelings for her. In fact, I told her that I truly liked her. She never responded. For several months, I kept that conversation pinned in my chat. I cannot explain why—I suppose I held onto the hope that she might eventually say something. Anything at all. However, as the days turned into weeks and life progressed, I gradually stopped checking. Eventually, I tried to move on, or at least I convinced myself that I had. Then—almost a year later—I received a notification: *“Ada is typing…”* My heart skipped a beat. I initially thought it was a prank, perhaps a strange Telegram bot or a mistake. Then she sent the message: **“Hey… I know this is really late. I just saw your message again. I’m sorry.”** I found myself staring at the screen for a minute, maybe five. Part of me wanted to respond with, “So now you remember I exist?” while another part felt an urgent need to reply before she vanished again. So I responded: **“Took you long enough.”** She replied with a laughing emoji, followed by a voice note. Hearing her voice again after such a long time stirred something within me; I hadn’t realized how much I had missed it. In her voice note, she explained her silence. She confessed that she had ghosted me out of panic. Someone had betrayed her trust prior to camp, and when I opened up to her, it felt too intense, too soon. She was unsure how to cope with it, so instead of replying, she chose to withdraw. I cannot deny that it hurt, but I understood her perspective. We all grapple with our own struggles, often unspoken. We began texting again, gradually. This time, it felt different. There was less excitement and more caution. It was as if we both recalled how things had ended and were determined not to repeat the past. One day, quite unexpectedly, she said: **“I don’t want to pretend that I didn’t feel something back then. I was just scared.”** I inquired, **“What about now?”** She answered, **“Now… I want to discover what we missed.”** And we did. Our journey was not flawless. There were awkward pauses, delayed replies, and moments when I questioned whether we would revert to our old patterns. Yet, this time, we made the effort to show up—not solely during the easy moments, but also during the challenging ones. She was no longer the same girl I had met at camp, and honestly, I had changed as well. However, this transformation seemed to work in our favor. We had both gained a deeper understanding of pain, patience, and the importance of taking our time. Through this experience, I learned something significant: We inhabit a world that demands speed—fast food, quick responses, instantaneous love. Yet, the most valuable things? They require time. They do not arrive when we desire them; they come when both individuals are prepared. Ada did not ghost me out of indifference. She distanced herself because she cared too deeply and was unsure how to handle it. Perhaps I was not ready either; I just hadn’t realized it at the time. Now, whenever I receive a text from her, I reflect on how painful it was not to see her name appear on my screen. I am grateful that, eventually, she chose to respond. Even if it took an entire year. Because sometimes… the journey is worth the wait.
By Clare Dorseyabout a year ago in Writers
To Be A Hero. Content Warning.
The dogs barked again. Incessantly, rhythmically. Their yelps bounced through the cracked streets of Oak Cliff, Texas, echoing between rusted chain-link fences and old houses with sagging porches. The sun had baked the sidewalks into submission hours ago, but the heat still hung in the air like a wet wool blanket. Kudzu clawed up telephone poles. Lawn chairs and broken tricycles sat in overgrown yards like forgotten memories.
By Raiden Obinaabout a year ago in Writers
Free Events Are Disappearing in NYC. Stuy Nights Inc. Opening Weekend Is Fighting Back
New York City used to be the place where you could stumble into a free block party, an open-air concert, or a community festival without dropping a dime. Remember those days ? exactly , But as the city gets more expensive, those moments are vanishing — replaced by ticketed rooftops, exclusive pop-ups, and festivals that cost half a paycheck just to get in. That’s why Bedstuy Opening Weekend is more than just a celebration; it’s a resistance. For two days this June, the neighborhood is taking back the culture with a free, all-access lineup of music, sports, and community love.
By NWO SPARROWabout a year ago in Writers
"As you like it"
In the sun-dappled kingdom of Arden, where courtly intrigue clashes with the untamed beauty of the forest, As You Like It unfolds as a lyrical exploration of love, identity, and liberation. When Rosalind, the quick-witted and fiercely independent niece of the usurping Duke Frederick, is banished from court, she flees to the Forest of Arden disguised as a young man named "Ganymede." Accompanied by her devoted cousin Celia and the court fool Touchstone, Rosalind’s journey becomes a whimsical yet profound odyssey—one that blurs the lines between performance and truth, duty and desire.
By its_ishfaq_ahmadabout a year ago in Writers
The Weekend I Stopped Running from Myself
It was a Friday afternoon in late September when I realized I didn’t know how to rest. I’d taken the day off work, made zero plans, and told myself I’d enjoy some “me time.” But as I sat on my couch in my silent apartment, drinking coffee that had long gone cold, I felt a rising discomfort that had nothing to do with the room temperature.
By Ashikur Rahman Bipulabout a year ago in Writers
Unheard. Runner-Up in I Wrote This Challenge.
Video reading story below: My greatest affliction is one I have held close to the chest my entire life. I almost wish I could remember the first moment I felt it. Maybe if I could pinpoint it, figure out what went wrong, I could fix it. But I know it doesn't work that way.
By Alivia Varvelabout a year ago in Writers
The Amazing Power of AI. AI-Generated.
This contains AI generated text. When I was in high school, I watched a video where a camera connected to a computer was pointed at a cup. The computer analyzed the image for a few minutes before the word cup appeared on the screen. This was in the mid 1990’s. At that time, the very thought of a computer being able to “think” about the identity of an item was completely science fiction. Fiction being the key word. To see that the technology was real, I was completely amazed.
By David E. Perryabout a year ago in Writers
