Holiday

The Last Feather of Vithariel
The Last Feather of Vithariel They said the gods once sang from the mountain peaks, and the birds carried their songs across the wind.
By Shafi Ullah Darwesh8 months ago in Fiction
The mirror of the second chances
A cold breeze danced through the cracks of the abandoned cottage as Maya brushed dust from the old mirror. It had been years since anyone had set foot inside. The house belonged to her grandmother, a woman known in the village for strange tales and stranger antiques. Now, after her passing, Maya had returned—not to reclaim her inheritance, but to find a part of herself that she'd lost along the way.
By Shehzad khan8 months ago in Fiction
The Lie That Cost Everything
Boredom is a dangerous thing—especially when you’re young and craving attention. A young boy in a quiet village spent each day watching sheep on a grassy hill. It was peaceful work, but dull. No one to talk to, nothing exciting ever happened. The sheep just ate, wandered, and occasionally made noise. Every day looked the same.
By Noor 8 months ago in Fiction
The Day Kindness Paid for Coffee
It Began with Rain and a Stranger The sky wept softly that morning — a silver curtain of rain falling over the quiet city.
By Shafi Ullah Darwesh8 months ago in Fiction
Delete Me If You Can
It started with a tag. Nothing unusual — just a photo of me and a few friends from college, posted by someone named @TheRealSophieBlack.
By Shafi Ullah Darwesh8 months ago in Fiction
The Last Phone Call
The Last Phone Call Some calls aren't meant to be answered. By Darwesh The phone rang at 1:47 a.m.
By Shafi Ullah Darwesh8 months ago in Fiction
My Grandmother’s Mirror Only Reflects the Dead
The Mirror’s First Secret I almost sold the mirror the day after Grandma Lillian’s funeral. It was an ugly thing—a heavy oak frame carved with twisting vines, the glass smoky with age. But Mom insisted: "She wanted you to have it. Said it was special."
By MUHAMMAD Abbas8 months ago in Fiction
The Day Humanity Died
Story: It didn’t happen suddenly. No explosions, no alien invasions, no nuclear fallout. The end began in whispers. Not of war… but of disinterest.
By TrueVocal8 months ago in Fiction
Where Did My Summers Go? In Six Drabbles
When I was six, I got six weeks' summer holiday to do whatever I wanted (and many things I didn't want like chores), but that was one week for every year of my life.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 8 months ago in Fiction
Time is Money 💰
In the city of Chronovale, time wasn’t just measured—it was currency. Every citizen wore a sleek, silver wristband that ticked down their life’s seconds, each tick a coin spent on survival. Rent, food, love—everything cost time. The wealthy hoarded years, their wristbands glowing with surplus, while the poor scrambled, their bands dimming toward zero. Elias Kane was one of the latter, a street artist whose wristband flickered at 3 days, 7 hours, and 42 minutes.
By TrueVocal8 months ago in Fiction
Her Smile Was the Last Clue
The Girl Who Smiled at Rain It all began in the quiet town of Willowbrook, where the rain fell almost every afternoon, and the streets smelled of old books and roses.
By Muhammad Hayat8 months ago in Fiction
THE LAST ROAD TRIP
The engine coughed, sputtered, then roared back to life as Jax white-knuckled the steering wheel. The old Chevy had been his father’s—a relic from the Before Times, when gas was cheap and music wasn’t a death sentence. Beside him, Nova chewed her thumbnail raw, her knee bouncing like a live wire.
By shoaib khan9 months ago in Fiction