Alain SUPPINI
Bio
I’m Alain — a French critical care anesthesiologist who writes to keep memory alive. Between past and present, medicine and words, I search for what endures.
Stories (315)
Filter by community
As If Time Were Waiting
The balcony opened onto the bay, wide and motionless, bathed in a golden light that made everything feel softer than it had any right to be. In the distance came the faint clinking of cutlery, the occasional murmur of laughter, and the patient lapping of waves below. It was the kind of view one would pay dearly for — postcard-perfect, touched by nothing but the passing wind.
By Alain SUPPINI7 months ago in Fiction
One Woman, One Mountain
The sky was already bleeding into ink when Élise tightened the straps of her backpack and stepped onto the trail. A pale crescent moon hung above the Cévennes, casting long shadows across the pines. The forest exhaled cool, damp air, scented with moss and old stone. Each footstep echoed a rhythm older than her thoughts.
By Alain SUPPINI7 months ago in Fiction
The Cabin of Silence. Runner-Up in The Summer That Wasn’t Challenge.
The train stopped at a platform barely long enough for two carriages. There was no café, no sound except the chirping of crickets in the morning haze. Clara stepped off, dragging her dented suitcase behind her. Her phone showed no new messages. Just the date: July 7.
By Alain SUPPINI7 months ago in Fiction
The 6:17 to Somewhere New. Winner in The Second First Time Challenge. Top Story - July 2025.
Marc hadn’t taken the 6:17 PM train in nearly two years. Not since he left the job he thought he’d die in, not since Elise had walked out with the last of their shared plants and all the warmth from the apartment. Not since he stopped believing in rhythms - that predictable cadence of departure and return that used to structure his weeks like a heartbeat.
By Alain SUPPINI7 months ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Wasn't There
I hadn’t been home in twelve years. Not really. Not the kind of home that smells like old wood and lemon soap, with drawers that jam halfway and a back door that groans like a dying animal. But here I was, back in my parents’ house — the house I grew up in — standing in the silence of the foyer, key still trembling in my hand.
By Alain SUPPINI7 months ago in Fiction
Still Standing: The Secret Strength of America's Oldest Constitution
In a world where revolutions rewrite regimes and constitutions rise and fall with political tides, the United States stands as an outlier. Since 1787, the same foundational text — drafted by men in powdered wigs and handwritten on parchment — has governed a nation that now spans 50 states, commands the world’s largest economy, and faces 21st-century problems unimagined by its authors. The U.S. Constitution is the oldest surviving written constitution in the world. But why has it endured? What makes this centuries-old document still capable of navigating the complex political, legal, and social dynamics of a modern, often divided nation?
By Alain SUPPINI7 months ago in History
Between Vigilance and Adaptation
As the world enters an era of accelerated transformation, the two traditional poles of the West — the United States and Europe — must confront emerging powers, technological ruptures, and unprecedented ecological upheavals. Their strategic survival will depend less on their past than on their ability to anticipate the future.
By Alain SUPPINI7 months ago in History
