Life
You are killing US with YOUR jealousy
So far I have enlightened the world with my thoughts on jealousy and self-esteem. I want to clear up any misunderstandings that may have some male people thinking that I am targeting only women here. Jealousy and self-esteem issues also can imprison men as well as women. No one is excused from real human emotions. Emotions know no face, color, size or gender. There are two victims here, not just one.
By Demi Brownabout a year ago in Writers
Problems in the water. AI-Generated.
He gradually moved to the passenger side door and pulled himself out, bearing the weight of two cruthes. He walked into the sliding doors looking up and half smiling, as if his efforts were being acknowledged. Then he sat down facing me awkwardly and introduced himself as Nathan - Nathan Eats. He was a pleasant, blonde, white guy in his early thirties and dressed in a calm medium blue shirt that matched his blue eyes.
By Kian Harper about a year ago in Writers
The Day I Deleted My Perfect Life
Writer Name: Rafi Ullah It was a Wednesday afternoon, the kind of day that didn’t have a reason to be remembered. I was sitting in the corner of my favorite café, sipping an oat latte and scrolling through my phone like it was a lifeline. My thumb moved in automatic loops — Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, back to Instagram — a carousel of curated perfection.
By Rafi Ullahabout a year ago in Writers
Artists Five Hundred Years Ago
Introduction This is short, and the reason for it will become clear. I saw this excellent meme from Doris Rose Art and think that if I don't publish anything, people will think I am dead, but they will just forget I exist.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about a year ago in Writers
The Youngest Voice in the Silence — How I Wrote 10 Books Before 18. AI-Generated.
When most teenagers are figuring out who they are, I was figuring out how to tell the world my story — and the stories of countless emotions that live inside us. By 18, I had authored 10 books, each carrying a part of me: my thoughts, my poetry, my reflections on peace, and my fascination with the beauty of silence. My latest book, The Silence of Everything, published on March 28, 2025, is more than a title — it’s a philosophy. Silence, to me, is not the absence of words, but the presence of meaning. It is where inspiration is born, where creativity matures, and where stories begin before they are spoken aloud. Winning the Literature Time Award and being nominated for the Global Youth Award were affirmations that my voice matters, even if it is often expressed in whispers on paper rather than loud speeches. But these milestones didn’t come easily. Writing is romanticized, but behind every page there were late nights of editing, countless rounds of formatting, self-doubt that whispered "maybe this isn’t good enough", and the determination to keep going regardless. I’ve learned that being a young author isn’t about how many books you write — it’s about the courage to write them at all. Each book taught me something new: about language, about resilience, and about myself. And though my journey has just begun, I hope my words inspire other young voices to rise, even in the quiet. Because sometimes, it’s in the silence that you hear yourself the clearest.
By Malaika Nawazabout a year ago in Writers
The Mastermind Games: Season 03 Last Episode 03
Snow fell lightly as Isha and Rafiq made their way through the industrial outskirts of the city. The map Clara had unknowingly unlocked had guided them here—to the location of the last AI core. The final node.
By Engr. Mansoor Ahmadabout a year ago in Writers
The Mastermind Games: Season 03 Episode 02
Rain pounded the broken cliffs of Marseille as Clara, Isha, and Rafiq stood soaked, bruised, and breathless. Behind them, smoke curled upward from the destroyed fortress—the last known node of the Mastermind AI.
By Engr. Mansoor Ahmadabout a year ago in Writers
The Mastermind Games: Season 02 Episode 02
Descending the steel staircase beneath the Glass City, the players entered a sterile corridor glowing with cold blue light. It smelled of metal, antiseptic, and something faintly chemical—like memories burned into wire.
By Engr. Mansoor Ahmadabout a year ago in Writers
