LUNA EDITH
Bio
Writer, storyteller, and lifelong learner. I share thoughts on life, creativity, and everything in between. Here to connect, inspire, and grow — one story at a time.
Stories (247)
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Education of Loss
When Daniel Harper lost his wife, he didn’t cry at the funeral. People whispered that he must be heartless, but he wasn’t. He was simply empty. After thirty years of marriage, his world had become so tied to hers that when she was gone, it was as if the language of life had changed overnight, and he no longer knew the words.
By LUNA EDITH4 months ago in Humans
Cried Clay
In a quiet village in southern France, there lived a sculptor named Adrien Marchand. His hands were known across the region for turning lifeless clay into faces that seemed almost ready to breathe. He never married, never had children, and rarely spoke. He lived for his art — and for the one memory that haunted him every day.
By LUNA EDITH4 months ago in Art
Face in the Water
On the edge of a quiet English village, there was a pond that people said was cursed. Children were told never to go near it at night, for it was said that a face sometimes appeared on the surface when the moon was full. Most laughed at the story. But for Eleanor Gray, the pond was more than a tale. It was where her brother had vanished twelve years ago.
By LUNA EDITH4 months ago in Fiction
Plague Doctor’s Journal
The journal was found in a wooden chest beneath the floorboards of an old house in Venice. Its pages were brittle, its ink faded, but the handwriting was elegant and precise. On the first page was a single line written in Latin: “To heal the living, one must walk with the dying.”
By LUNA EDITH4 months ago in History
Crown of Dust
In the heart of an old English town stood a crumbling mansion that had long been forgotten. The locals called it the Ashbourne House. Its gates were rusted, its windows clouded, and ivy crawled like veins up its walls. But once, it had been filled with laughter, music, and light.
By LUNA EDITH4 months ago in History
Poet Who Wrote Without Ink
In a small village near the coast of Ireland lived a man named Thomas Gray. He wasn’t famous, nor was he rich. He worked as a postman, walking miles each day through rain and fog, delivering letters no one remembered once they were opened. Yet, in his pocket, Thomas carried poems — not written on paper, but carved in memory.
By LUNA EDITH4 months ago in Motivation
Art That Breathed
In a quiet street in Florence, Italy, where every corner smelled of paint and coffee, there stood a small art studio with cracked windows and ivy creeping up its walls. Inside, a man named Luca spent his days surrounded by canvases that never sold and colors that refused to fade.
By LUNA EDITH4 months ago in Art
The Empire of Candles
In a quiet corner of an old European town stood a little candle shop that smelled of beeswax, rose oil, and time itself. Its wooden sign read “The Empire of Candles,” though there was nothing grand about it. The shop was run by a man named Arthur, whose hands were always dusted with wax and whose heart carried the soft glow of a hundred tiny flames.
By LUNA EDITH4 months ago in Humans
A Selfish Heart and a Loyal Friend
In a small town in England, where cobbled streets wound between old brick houses, there lived a man named Edward. He was known to his neighbours as cold and selfish. Edward kept to himself, never joining the Sunday market or stopping for a chat at the local café. His house was neat and orderly, but his heart felt empty and distant.
By LUNA EDITH4 months ago in Humans
Story Written in Dust
When I first stepped into my late grandfather’s old workshop, I thought it would be an easy task. Just a few hours of cleaning before the house was handed over to its new owners. But the moment I opened the wooden door, I realized this wasn’t just a room. It was a world that time had forgotten.
By LUNA EDITH4 months ago in Families
Book of Unsung Heroes Hidden in the Attic
It was a quiet Sunday afternoon when I decided to clean my grandmother’s attic. The air was thick with dust and old memories. I thought I would only find broken furniture and forgotten clothes. But instead, I found something that changed the way I looked at my family.
By LUNA EDITH4 months ago in History
