Children's Fiction

The Weight of Unspoken Words
Arthur sat in the dying glow of the living room lamp, the whiskey low in his glass. Dust motes danced in the solitary beam, the house too quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed in on a man after midnight. He’d pulled down the old cedar chest from the attic, a sporadic purge of forgotten things, a grim ritual he undertook every few years. Most of it was junk, yellowed receipts, rusty tools, photographs of faces he no longer recognized. Then his fingers brushed against something thin, papery, tucked beneath a stack of old concert stubs.
By HAADIabout a month ago in Chapters
The Shifting Spires of Azmar
Kael tasted salt, even above the surface. It clung to his tongue, a ghost of a thousand past dives, a promise of the depths waiting. His rig, a patched-up contraption of salvaged parts and rust, smelled of diesel and fear. Old Man Tibbs, a relic himself, squinted from the helm of 'The Scavenger', his face a roadmap of sun and hard living. "Current's turnin', boy," Tibbs rasped, his voice rough as barnacles. "She's gonna tug you down deep today. You sure about this?"
By HAADI2 months ago in Chapters
Lord of the Flies
[Welcome. Today, we begin an exploration of Lord of the Flies, a powerful and thought-provoking novel. This first chapter serves as an introduction, setting the foundation for the story and its characters. As the chapters progress, the narrative grows darker, deeper, and far more compelling.]
By Sudais Zakwan2 months ago in Chapters
The Room That Refused Explanation
Inside the room, questions felt unnecessary. Answers dissolved. Being replaced understanding. People left without clarity—but with peace.
By GoldenSpeech2 months ago in Chapters
The Ocean That Reflected Inner Depth
Those who approached the sea with calm found still waters. Those who arrived restless stirred waves. The ocean mirrored states rather than moons. Inner tides ruled outer ones.
By GoldenSpeech2 months ago in Chapters
The Sky That Forgot the Future
Weather patterns stopped following forecasts. The sky behaved moment to moment. People stopped planning around it and began responding to it. Anxiety decreased. Adaptability increased. The sky taught that certainty is overrated.
By GoldenSpeech2 months ago in Chapters
The Ochre Dust
Elena, eighty-something, smelled of lavender and old paper, like pressed flowers and forgotten letters. Her stories, though. Those were fresh, vibrant things, full of sun and grit and the taste of the earth. She’d sit in the worn armchair, the velvet faded to a dull rose, bony hands tracing patterns on her lap, eyes staring out the window but seeing something else entirely. Not the cracked pavement of the city street below, but something much older, much further away. "The piazza in August," she’d start, her voice raspy, dry as the summer air she spoke of, "dust red as blood, kicked up by every donkey cart and bare foot. Always a dog, a scruffy mongrel, sleeping under the olive tree by the fountain, belly up. Too hot to even swat the fat flies buzzing lazy circles around its head."
By HAADI2 months ago in Chapters
The Horizon That Walked Beside You
The horizon stopped staying ahead. It moved alongside people, matching pace. Progress no longer felt like pursuit. Life felt less like reaching and more like accompanying. The horizon had never been distant—it had only been misunderstood.
By GoldenSpeech2 months ago in Chapters
The Clock That Refused to Count Pain
During moments of deep pain, the clock stopped responding. Minutes stretched or vanished entirely. Healing ignored calendars. Only when pain softened did time resume its rhythm. The clock was not broken—it was compassionate.
By GoldenSpeech2 months ago in Chapters
The City That Learned to Breathe Together
At some point, no one could say when it started, the city began breathing in unison. Not consciously, not by decision, but gradually. Crowds slowed. Traffic lights felt less urgent. Conversations paused naturally between sentences. People noticed that when they rushed, the city felt tight; when they softened, it opened. Breathing together did not remove conflict or difference—it created space around them. The city did not become peaceful. It became aligned.
By GoldenSpeech2 months ago in Chapters
The Horizon That Refused Definition
No description fit it. That was the point. Movement mattered more than arrival.
By GoldenSpeech2 months ago in Chapters
The River That Flowed Backward at Dawn
Each morning, the river reversed briefly, refreshing its source. Progress included return.
By GoldenSpeech2 months ago in Chapters