The Mountain That Accepted Every Footstep
No One Climbs Alone
The mountain did not judge ability or intention. It absorbed every step equally. Some climbed to conquer. Others to understand. The mountain offered the same silence to all. Meaning came not from the summit, but from what each climber carried down.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from GoldenSpeech and writers in BookClub and other communities.
The River That Refused Straight Answers
Whenever someone asked the river a question, the current shifted but never replied directly. Reflections bent. Sounds distorted. Answers came later, in unrelated moments. The river taught that truth rarely travels in straight lines.
By GoldenSpeech2 months ago in BookClub
Book Review: Atmosphere by Taylor Jenkins Reid
I flipped the book over in my hands in the centre of the small airport book shop. Although I had heard promising reviews of Atmosphere by Taylor Jenkins Reid, I hesitated. The synopsis didn’t compel me - I wasn’t much of a space girly. In high school it made me cringe when my peers would talk about the stars.
By sleepy drafts3 days ago in BookClub
Kabbalah and the Architecture of Sacred Power
Kabbalah and the Architecture of Sacred Reality Within the broad terrain of Western esotericism, Kabbalah stands apart for both intellectual rigor and historical endurance. Emerging from medieval Jewish theological inquiry, Kabbalah matured into a sophisticated metaphysical framework that addresses creation, consciousness, and the relationship between the infinite and the manifest world. Rather than functioning as a single scripture or closed doctrine, Kabbalah developed as an evolving body of commentaries, symbolic diagrams, meditative disciplines, and speculative theology. Central to this tradition lies a radical cosmological model in which divine reality unfolds through ordered stages of emanation, forming a structured universe that mirrors spiritual principles at every level of existence.
By Marcus Hedare3 days ago in BookClub
Trouble at the Tea Leafing Café
The rain had started right around the time that Annie was buttering her second thick slice of homemade toast for breakfast, and hadn’t paused since. Not that anyone could tell. The windows of the café were fogged over, and with every seat filled with happy customers munching on fresh baked pastries or steaming bowls of the delicious soup of the day, it was hardly surprising. Annie looked around the room, finally taking a moment to breathe after the lunch time rush. Her old life already felt like a bad memory, a part of her history, always, but just that. History.
By Hannah Moore7 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.