Fiction

Where the Moon Hides. AI-Generated.
In the tucked-away village of Eldermoor cradled between whispering forests and the jagged edges of the sea-cliffs the moon was more than just a pale ornament in the sky. To the people there, it was a guardian. Every night it spilled silver light over the crooked rooftops and cobblestone streets, lighting the path for lovers’ quiet walks and shepherding children’s dreams.
By Muzamil khan6 months ago in Art
The Brush Between Worlds
Tucked between a subway entrance and a glass-fronted café in the heart of the city stood a small, unassuming studio with peeling blue paint and a hand-lettered sign: Zehra’s Corner – Paint. Breathe. Be.
By meerjanan6 months ago in Art
When the Curtain Wouldn’t Rise
The old theater of Silverwood was a relic of better days. Its red velvet seats, once plush and inviting, were now faded and torn, a testament to years of use and neglect. Dust settled in corners, and the stage floor creaked underfoot, but the town held onto the tradition of the annual play festival like a precious jewel.
By Najeeb Scholer6 months ago in Art
The stranger in the park
I was there waiting impatiently. My kids all jubilant Excited. I was not in happy mood. I do not like the parks or leisure grounds
By Dinesha Perera6 months ago in Art
AI, Therapy, and the Human Touch
🤖 AI, Therapy, and the Human Touch Can Machines Really Understand What We Feel? By Haroon The first time Lena spoke to an AI therapist, she didn’t expect much. It was a Tuesday, the kind of day that felt like background noise. She had just come home from work, her inbox still echoing in her head, and her heart carrying the weight of a breakup that had left her feeling more invisible than heartbroken.
By Muhammad Haroon6 months ago in Art
“The Color He Never Used”
In a quiet corner of the city, where the hum of traffic never quite faded and laundry lines strung between buildings like tangled flags, there lived a man named Kamran. Once, his name was spoken with reverence in galleries and studios—“Kamran, the painter who captures silence,” they’d say. His work had a way of holding breath, of making people pause, stare, and remember something long forgotten.
By meerjanan6 months ago in Art
“The Last Canvas”
On the edge of a quiet coastal village, where the sea whispered against the rocks and the air always carried a hint of salt and jasmine, lived an old man named Rahim. Once, his name had been spoken with reverence—“Rahim the Painter,” they called him, the man who could make waves dance on canvas and sunsets breathe.
By meerjanan6 months ago in Art
Not My Wake
🌿 Not My Wake When Nature Awakens, So Do We By Haroon The morning began with laughter. Not the human kind. The Kookaburra’s cackle pierced the veil of sleep like a flash of mischief rolling down the eucalyptus grove outside my window. I blinked. One bird, then two—then an entire chorus of feathered jesters, turning the dawn into a raucous performance.
By Muhammad Haroon6 months ago in Art
How W Read Ourselves
📖 How We Read Ourselves By Haroon In the quiet corner of the café, Marla sat hunched over her notebook, sipping lukewarm espresso and tracing her pen along the creases of the page. The words were hers—at least she believed they were. Her handwriting, curled and deliberate, danced across the paper in a way that felt too poetic to belong to her in real life.
By Muhammad Haroon6 months ago in Art
10 Obscure Medieval Manuscripts That Still Baffle Modern Linguists (2024 Finds)
10 Obscure Medieval Manuscripts That Still Baffle Modern Linguists (2024 Finds) Introduction Between the fall of Rome and the rise of the printing press, monks, merchants, and mystics filled tens of thousands of parchment pages with scripts nobody today can fully read. While the Voynich Manuscript hogs the spotlight, lesser-known codices hide stranger puzzles: entire alphabets invented overnight, marginalia that bleed through five layers of parchment, and prayers written in systems that break every known rule of phonology. The ten manuscripts below surfaced only in the last decade—some in attic trunks, others via multispectral scans—yet each one has already stumped the world’s leading philologists. Every entry includes fresh 2024 laboratory data, newly released archives, or updated cryptographic analysis. Prepare to meet the written word at its most defiant.
By youssef mohammed6 months ago in Art
*The Colors She Left Behind*
The studio stood like a secret the city had forgotten. Tucked between a shuttered tailor shop and a noisy laundromat, its windows were clouded with dust, its wooden sign—once proudly carved with the name Studio Lumière—now barely legible. Rain had warped the letters, time had faded the paint, and ivy crept up one side like a slow apology.
By meerjanan6 months ago in Art
*The Color She Couldn’t Name*
In a narrow lane where the scent of warm bread curled through the morning air and the tailor’s sewing machine clicked like a steady heartbeat, there stood a quiet little studio with peeling paint and a rusted door handle. Its sign, once bold in cursive—Meher Art Studio—had faded into near silence, as if the building itself had learned to whisper.
By meerjanan6 months ago in Art