Love

Yelling for the Sheep
You think you know the story of the old-country farmer, but there’s a whole other side lost to history. In the late eighteenth century, in a small village seventy miles outside of Valladolid, Spain, there was a young man named Ramon Marin. He had just inherited a small sheep farm from his father, Antonio, who passed away seven weeks ago. His mother, Alma, had died years before, soon after he came of age.
By Gabriel Shames4 days ago in Fiction
The Inverse Calculus of Us
"The clock has struck three, the coffee is cold, and the shadows are beginning to speak. Welcome back to the desk of The Night Writer, where the stories are brewed in the dark."
By The Night Writer 🌙 4 days ago in Fiction
Tea Time
Like every morning, Ester watched as trembling hands lifted the robin’s egg blue teapot and poured the amber liquid into a matching teacup. Louis’ hands were wrinkled, weathered, calloused from years of work. She still loved holding those hands across the small kitchen table as they talked. She remembered doing it for fifty years, the hands had changed but they felt the same. It was a good day when she could think back over the years. It was better in the mornings. The fog of sleep when she woke up lifted and she remembered his name, but in a couple hours it wasn’t guaranteed.
By Raine Fielder4 days ago in Fiction
Waiting
Once upon a time, there was a fair maiden, trapped in a tower almost as lonely as her mind. She spent her days longing for companionship and her nights wishing upon the passing falling stars for anybody to come find her. The maiden did not know how she got to the tower, was not sure how long she had been there, and hadn’t the slightest clue how to leave. Days stacked high upon days as she waited and waited for a rescuer.
By Raine Neal4 days ago in Fiction
Colored Shoes
I was once a guy who loved bright color shoes. Give me the lime greens, and the cherry reds and the hot pinks. I'd wear them outside, I'd wear them to sleep, I'd wear them to play sports and even in my dreams.
By Christian Sanchez4 days ago in Fiction
Fires of Adversity
Kathryn, Princess of Thuirene, rose early to enjoy the sunrise in peaceful solitude. As much solitude as a member of the royal family ever got, anyway. She’d have little enough of that in the coming days, that every moment without someone demanding her attention was a gift to be savoured.
By Natasja Rose5 days ago in Fiction
The Night the Princess Chose Love
The rain began the way secrets often do—softly, almost politely, as if asking permission to exist. Princess Seraphina noticed it first from her balcony, the way the lantern lights blurred and trembled as droplets fell. The palace behind her was alive with music and conversation, but she had slipped away again, drawn to the quiet pull of the night. Rain always made the world feel more honest. Less polished. More willing to confess.
By Zidane5 days ago in Fiction
The Table of Seven
The Table of Seven Eight-year-old Saif often wished he possessed a magical power—one that could instantly fulfill any desire he made. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, this wish never came true. He attempted many different ways to make his dreams a reality, but nothing worked. One day, while wandering toward the forest with these thoughts troubling his mind, Saif encountered something truly unexpected.
By Sudais Zakwan5 days ago in Fiction
The Golem
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ WRITER’S NOTE: The golem originates in Jewish folklore as a figure formed from clay and animated through sacred language. Created for necessity rather than companionship, the golem exists to protect, labor, and endure. They are believed to be emotionless.
By Jesse Lee5 days ago in Fiction
Manzoor: The Boy Who Healed Hearts.. AI-Generated.
When he was admitted to the hospital, his condition was very bad. On the first night he was kept only on oxygen. The nurse who was on duty thought that this new patient would die before morning. His pulse rate was uncertain. His body was soaked in sweat. Sometimes he lay on one side and sometimes on the other. When the restlessness increased, he would sit up and start taking long breaths. His color was yellow like a lump of turmeric. His eyes were sunken inward. The bridge of his nose was cold like a piece of ice. There was trembling over his whole body.
By Muhammad Haris khan 5 days ago in Fiction
Vision of Amaya. Content Warning.
Amaya woke suddenly, the ice cold grip of early morning air ripping her out of a nightmare. All was quiet. The sun had not yet bathed the hills in its light. The birds were silent, waiting for the sunlight to reach across the world and warm their feathers. Dawn was still a couple hours away.
By Madison "Maddy" Newton5 days ago in Fiction
“The Girl Who Broke Willowford”
It's currently the summer of 1955 my name is James Hale, I live in the small town of Willowford. I work at my local diner, taking the same customers every day, receiving the same meals and life is good. It feels like every week repeats but nobody questions it, that's just how life is in Willowford. There’s a comfort to the routine, a rhythm to the days that never changes. People wave the same way, smile the same way, live the same way. Maybe that’s why I’ve never questioned it — Willowford feels safe, even when it feels strange.
By Christian Sanchez5 days ago in Fiction