Fantasy
Eclipsed Souls: A Tale of Twin Flames
Saliza grew up in the vibrant, historical city of Melaka, where her childhood was a rich tapestry of cultural traditions drawn from her mixed cultural heritage. Her family, deeply connected to their roots, filled her world with lively festivals, the aroma of spices, and stories passed down through generations. Raised with love, but also with high expectations, Saliza learned early on to honor her heritage and carry a strong sense of responsibility. She was both cherished and held to high standards, a balance that molded her into a nurturing, diligent young woman.
By Black Vanillaabout a year ago in Chapters
Eclipsed Souls: A Tale of Twin Flames
Arnaz sat in the corner of the dimly lit bookstore, cradling a steaming cup of coffee. The transformation of Pilot’s Café had been a resounding success, drawing in more visitors than Saliza had ever imagined. Yet, despite the café's lively ambiance, an unsettling feeling had taken hold of him. He glanced up from his cup, his gaze fixating on the soft glow reflecting from the skylight.
By Black Vanillaabout a year ago in Chapters
The Fall
In the beginning, there was naught but the heavens and the earth, and He that had created them. A vast and dismal plane ebbed of all color and life. The universe, an ocean of dreary, motionless tenebrosity spread thin across the expanse, like a pitch veil over a mirror, stands still as time has yet to awaken. All that exists is the spirit of Him. A ghastly ripple of brilliant light that glides across the ashen plane of existence, unimpeded and faster than time can account for. It hovers above the cold and soulless world like an artist deciding where his first stroke would fall upon an empty canvas. The darkness of the universe pulsates as this one ember of light sparks from the spirit. Another sparks off of the specter's being this time falling into the waters of the void. Like a stone in a pond, the ember ripples across all of existence in brilliant splendor. It spreads like flurries of snow alight with energy and color. The particles bounced infinitely from one edge of the cosmos to the other revealing what hid in the darkness. What was once grey and insipid, now glows with luminance and spirit. First was light, to see the things that are hidden. The spirit takes the form of a lustrous orb of light and surveys the empty world before it. There it stayed, light emanating from its being and pushing the void into the recesses of the cosmos.
By Paul S. O. N.about a year ago in Chapters
Eclipsed Souls: A Tale of Twin Flames
In the midst of this newfound tranquility, something was about to change, a ripple in the calm waters. It was on one of these serene afternoons that a stranger walked into the café, setting into motion a series of events that would challenge Saliza and Arnaz to look beyond the ordinary and seek the hidden truths written in the stars.
By Black Vanillaabout a year ago in Chapters
Across the Desert
Chapter 3 :The Harsh Desert The Alvarez family woke up in the wee hours first; the cold prick of a still biting desert were not itchy. A vigilant coyote, who was always at the ready, gave them the cue to go and quickly prepare for the move. The night was sleepless with the cold of the desert entering their bones, yet they should still move. Whatever seconds are left, they need to amplify their wcarsnkljoosh or whatever it is they are into. Restless was the night with the desert's chill reaching their bones, but they had to move on. Lack of time was a serene reminder that their race through the threats of the burning desert was right next to them, together with a solid ground of border patrols most of the time.
By yousif hajiabout a year ago in Chapters
Moral Stories
Moral stories have woven themselves into the fabric of human culture throughout the ages. Whether we hear them from parents, read them in books, or watch them in movies, these stories are often designed to teach us valuable lessons. But in today’s fast-paced and complex world, one question often arises: Are these moral stories based on real-life experiences, or are they just built-up ideals meant to guide our behavior? And how does silence play into this conversation?
By Mamoona Bushraabout a year ago in Chapters
The Unfathomable Dance of Existence
How unfathomable is the beauty of existence! Every roadblock, every rejection, every end and every not so plausible moment is the beginning of something new, some beautiful reality that can turn every bitter ounce of mortality into an insightful lesson learned,
By Hridya Sharmaabout a year ago in Chapters
Across the Desert
Chapter 1: The Decision --- A magnificent orange sun went down the small town of San Mateo and the light shadow took the place of the sun at the dusty streets. Children played with barefoot on the dirt, their shrill laughter resonating off the adobe walls of the simple houses. Women held in small groups and were talking with each other while preparing the evening meal, while on the other hand, men had just returned from the fields, their faces beaten by the sun and by the years of hard work. Life in San Mateo was not easy and the villagers had no other options. For many, the idea of leaving was out of the question. But for Juan and Maria Alvarez, hanging back had become something unbearable
By yousif hajiabout a year ago in Chapters
Portals & Paths: The Nine Gems
Chapter 4: LAK The temple’s double doors, large enough for a parade of howdah-adorned gharjja elephants to enter, opened like broken jaws and groaned upon exhale. The teakwood, plated in etched gold, depicted the sun god, Phra Athit, ascending heavenward on the backs of turtles amid a fanfare of fairies and sprites. A pair of fang-bared, monkey head-shaped silver pulls growled guard as bodies swathed in silks and sweat spilled out in a rainbow waterfall. Wat Phra Athit sat center on the palace grounds like an old, reposed god after a deep lament, gilded robes still glowing under the sun but draping only withered, shadowy arms whose reach had long receded into myth. Phra Ayuttia had constructed the temple before the monkeys had retreated to the northern forests, with seven spires as symbols of hope for the seven new nations rising from the foam of the Blue Samudra. As Ram exited the temple dedicated to the Siandali god of the sun, the Kandali ten-petaled Manipura blazoned above the doors quietly wept shame and sadness, misting the congregation in a yawning hunger. Only Ram, and Seeda, felt the pain.
By Jeffrey Scottabout a year ago in Chapters
