Historical
Hiding Hole
The dream is disturbing. I'm hiding. There's a sense of urgency. I don't know why. My heart races as the crowded room closes in on me. It smells of coffee grounds, body odor, and fear. I start to hyperventilate. Someone whispers, "Hush, you must..."
By Julie Lacksonen4 months ago in Fiction
The Lighthouse Keeper’s Letter. AI-Generated.
The wind howled along the cliffs of Cape Town, tearing at the edges of the lighthouse like it wanted to knock it into the ocean. Inside, an old man sat hunched over a wooden desk, pen in hand, paper worn and yellowed.
By shakir hamid4 months ago in Fiction
The Moving Experience
Gold speckles lined the blue carpet. The house in Wilmington, Delaware showed a bed, a basin, and a chair and desk set with a place for a candle in the room. The bed featured a wooden frame and a single mattress with colorful blankets of blue and gold draped on it; the basin had a crack in the outer rim but looked like ivory; the desk showed scratches and lines that covered its surface. A single flame burned and cast a glow over the whole place. In over a hundred and sixty years, the room had not been touched. The door creaked. The musty smell of old paper struck at the nose of Taylor David. He wore jeans and a uniform that spelled out his reason for being there. “We Move Rooms” emblazoned on his gray shirt in crimson. That remained his task. He received a paycheck to collect the items of rooms and relocate them to storage facilities, homes, and incinerators. Now, he ensured the items wound up in a museum.
By Skyler Saunders4 months ago in Fiction
Rain That Never Ends
It had been raining for five years. Not a day, not an hour of silence from the sky. The people of Maravelle had long stopped waiting for the sun. The old roads were rivers now, and the hills were islands. Children learned to swim before they learned to walk. Markets floated on barrels and bamboo rafts, schools drifted in circles tethered to the remains of clock towers, and crops grew in hanging gardens on rooftops.
By Farooq Hashmi4 months ago in Fiction
The Girl in the Red Umbrella
The Girl in the Red Umbrella The rain had been falling for seven straight mornings, soft and unrelenting, like the world was trying to wash itself clean. The city streets shimmered with reflections — puddles catching headlights and broken clouds. Daniel stood under the crooked metal awning of the bus stop, coffee in one hand, his tie damp at the edges.
By Abdul Muhammad 4 months ago in Fiction
December
It was December, and the cold was strong. Wahid often complained to me that I didn’t come to visit my friends. But today was Sunday, and I had decided to spend the whole day with Wahid. I had been in touch with him since the evening before. I planned to leave the house at ten in the morning and meet him at his shop.
By Syed Shahkar jalal 4 months ago in Fiction
Sanctuary
The rain had been falling for three days straight. Not the kind that dances on rooftops and sings lullabies, but the kind that soaks through bones — heavy, endless, punishing. The town below was drowning in mud and silence. Yet high on the hill, where the forest thickened into darkness, the old church stood untouched.
By Malaika Piolet4 months ago in Fiction
