Fable
The Night the Drones Returned
The Night the Drones Returned The night was colder than usual in the small Afghan border village of Sarkha. Winter had already settled into the valley, and people were trying to sleep early under heavy quilts. But on this night, no one would rest. Shortly after 11:43 PM, the familiar and terrifying sound returned to the skies. A faint hum, a trembling vibration, a noise that every villager had learned to fear. The drones had come back.
By Wings of Time 3 months ago in Fiction
The Day Three Borders Burned
When Pakistan Faced Two Fronts Nobody expected the morning of 26 November to become the most frightening day in recent memory. Life in northern Pakistan began as usual—children preparing for school, shopkeepers opening their shutters, farmers heading toward fields still wet with dew.
By Wings of Time 3 months ago in Fiction
The Ballads of Trees. Top Story - March 2024.
~*~ Between Here and There lay a mixed-woods forest. Of an age unknown, its existence was wedged between sandy fields of tobacco, deer filled plains and a sheer drop into a meandering river with which it battled daily to hold its ground.
By Call Me Les3 months ago in Fiction
Imposter in a gingerbread house
The first snowfall of winter had just begun when the small village of Frostwhistle prepared for its most loved celebration—the Grand Gingerbread House Contest. Every home glowed with colorful lights, and the warm scent of cinnamon drifted through the chilly air. Bakers, children, and even elders spent days crafting the sweetest, most magical gingerbread creations imaginable.
By waseem khan3 months ago in Fiction
🌙 “Grandma’s Last Petal”
---Story Begins I was eleven years old when my grandmother first showed me the flower. It lived in an old glass jar, the kind that used to hold honey years before I was born. The jar sat on the smallest shelf in her room — the one I wasn’t allowed to touch unless she was with me.
By Muhammad Kashif 3 months ago in Fiction
The Shadow Rooms of the Self
The spaces we avoid. That is the shadow self. This the space where archetypes hide and are stored upon a shelf. Memories locked behind closet doors, like a doll named Chuckie. We get to know our shadow selves, those of us are lucky.
By A.K. Treadwell 3 months ago in Fiction
THE LAST VOICE NOTE SHE LEFT ME
Her name was Ayla, and for three years, she had been the brightest part of my small, quiet life. We weren’t dating. We weren’t siblings. We were something in between—two broken kids who accidentally became each other’s lifelines.
By Muhammad Kashif 3 months ago in Fiction
The Ceasefire That Didn’t Hold
The Ceasefire That Didn’t Hold For three days, the border had been filled with fire, smoke, and fear. Then the ceasefire came — a thin thread of hope, fragile like glass. For the first time in seventy-two hours, the guns went quiet. Families returned from camps. Soldiers stepped back from their positions. Reporters lowered their cameras.
By Wings of Time 3 months ago in Fiction
