Holiday

*The Last Light*
In the quiet town of Crestwood, where mornings began with a soft veil of fog draping over the hills and the cobblestone streets held the echoes of generations, lived a woman named Elara. She wasn’t loud or bold, but people remembered her—her stillness, the way she listened like every word mattered, and the faint sadness in her eyes that somehow felt comforting, like the hush before snowfall.
By meerjanan7 months ago in Fiction
Secrets Buried In The Snow. Content Warning.
Red and blue lights spattered against the fresh, quiet snow that blanketed our normally boring neighborhood. These lights were different- harsh, urgent, and nothing like the twinkling Christmas lights that had promised a wonderful holiday. Cop cars were parked in front of the house across the street. My best friend’s house. Samantha’s house.
By Chy7 months ago in Fiction
I Paid a Witch to Erase My Memories But They’re Coming Back
I Paid a Witch to Erase My Memories But They’re Coming Back You don’t find witches in neon-lit cities or suburban cul-de-sacs. You find them in the cracks of reality between the forgotten and the forbidden. I didn’t seek her out because I believed in magic. I sought her because I was desperate to forget.
By Farooq Hashmi7 months ago in Fiction
The Letter I Was Never Meant to Read
By Nadeem Shah I found the letter by accident. Tucked inside the back of my mother’s worn-out recipe book, behind a page smudged with gravy stains and faint ink scribbles about nutmeg, was an envelope that didn’t belong. It was brittle, yellowed with age, and sealed with a faded wax stamp I didn’t recognize.
By Nadeem Shah 7 months ago in Fiction
The Bookstore That Only Opens at Midnight
he Bookstore That Only Opens at Midnight I stumbled upon it by accident or maybe, as I now believe, it found me. It was just past midnight on a rainy Thursday when I saw a faint light flicker in the corner of an old alley I had walked past a hundred times before. Between two abandoned buildings stood a narrow, ivy-covered doorway with a crooked wooden sign swinging in the wind. It simply read: “Open”.
By Farooq Hashmi7 months ago in Fiction
City of Dreams
In a city where millions pass each other without a second glance, two strangers unknowingly share something intimate: the same dreams.
By Solene Hart7 months ago in Fiction
The Fox Who Filed Complaints
The Fox Who Filed Complaints In the sleepy village of Willowbrook, life moved as slowly as the stream that hummed its gentle lullabies through the pines. The cobblestone streets were soft with moss, the bakery smelled perpetually of cinnamon and warm bread, and the loudest drama anyone could expect was the occasional chicken escaping from Old Man Carter’s yard.
By Malik BILAL7 months ago in Fiction
Kindness Tastes Like Lemon Tea. AI-Generated.
I never liked tea. Not the bitter green kind, not the herbal kind my mom kept insisting would help me “balance out,” and definitely not the flowery ones that tasted like wilted garden petals. But I drank it anyway—every day at 4:15—for nearly four months, sitting at a round table by a window in Mrs. Calloway’s faded yellow kitchen.
By waseem khan7 months ago in Fiction
The Weight of the Empty Chair
The smell of rosemary and pie filled the house, warm and too familiar. Rachel hovered in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, a damp dish towel still clutched in her hand. Her mother stood at the head of the table, folding a napkin with slow precision.
By Oula M.J. Michaels7 months ago in Fiction
My Summer Plans - Ruined...
My summer had been planned 4 different times this year. I like planning. I do not like my plans changing - let alone getting smashed into smithereens!
By The Schizophrenic Mom7 months ago in Fiction
The Summer that Stayed in Boxes
I wasn’t supposed to be here in July. That was the first thing I told myself every morning while brushing my teeth with the taste of cardboard still stuck on the roof of my mouth.
By Cadma7 months ago in Fiction
The Letter I Was Never Meant to Read
By Nadeem Shah It was tucked inside the back of an old shoebox—between brittle birthday cards and a black-and-white photo of a woman I didn’t recognize. I wasn’t supposed to find it. But fate has a cruel way of revealing things when you’re least prepared.
By Nadeem Shah 7 months ago in Fiction