family

The Letterbox
"I'd like a fire pit." Annis dipped her face as she made her sole request of the innkeeper. Limp ringlets fell forward and veiled the faint hairs across her cheeks—get them shaved, you look like a man—but Annis caught the innkeeper's wrinkled nose and puckered face. Her paced and simple words, rehearsed at least three times before entering through the woven ropes over the doorway, had yet again failed to make her likable.
By Nagisa K.13 days ago in Fiction
Too Much Love Can Kill You
Too Much Love Can Kill You At first, it felt like the kind of love people dream about. The kind that arrives quietly, then suddenly fills every space in your life. There were messages all day, voices late into the night, and that constant feeling of being chosen. It made the world seem smaller, safe, nothing could reach you as long as they were there. There was no distance, no gaps, no silence, and that intensity felt like something rare, something people search their whole lives for. You told yourself this was what love was meant to feel like, full, consuming, undeniable.
By George’s Girl 2026 13 days ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 24.
The Spring My Daughter Graduated During the Pandemic One afternoon, my younger daughter, Rainbow, came home from school with a question that seemed simple at the time.
By Peter14 days ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 23.
A small pandemic incident that taught me an unexpected lesson about work, responsibility, and knowing one’s place. One morning during the long months of pandemic lockdown, I received an unexpected phone call from Ms. Lin.
By Peter14 days ago in Fiction
The Last Wednesday Before Spring
Brisk mustiness from the morning entered through the partially opened window. The humidity formed a heaviness in the air, sticking onto Mitra's skin as she lay in bed, restless from a sleepless night. Her tired eyes were dry, and her head throbbing.
By Delphi15 days ago in Fiction
Worrying
Roger leaned over his drafting table, scrutinizing the blueprints spread before him. The midmorning sun streamed through his office window filling it with much appreciated light and raising the temperature to an unwelcome level. He could feel a little bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck.
By A. J. Schoenfeld15 days ago in Fiction
The Space Before the Door Opens. AI-Generated.
On the third day, Mara moved the letter so she could wipe the table, and that was when she realized she would have to open it.
By Yannick Simo15 days ago in Fiction
Swan Lake
My sister has just called me on Watsapp, which is extraordinary since Watsapp has been consistently blocked in Russia since January.
By Lana V Lynx16 days ago in Fiction
Fire in the Dark
Storytelling began before there was even a word for “story.” Back when the world was still lit by fire and fear, people lived in small circles of light. The nights were longer than they are now, or at least they felt that way. Wind crept through branches like whispers, animals called to each other in voices humans did not yet understand, and the darkness beyond the fire was full of questions.
By Oluremi Adeoye 16 days ago in Fiction
City of plague: A New Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 22.
A quiet story about fear, groceries, and how the internet became our lifeline. During the pandemic, Manhattan’s Chinatown felt like a city holding its breath.
By Peter16 days ago in Fiction
City of plague: A New Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 21.
A family story about distance, marriage, and the strange quiet that forced us to speak about what we had long avoided. When the pandemic arrived, it did not knock on the door politely. It barged in.
By Peter16 days ago in Fiction
The Truth Is Out There
My future is as uncertain as my past. I’ve pondered it for my entire life and still have few answers. The truth is out there - like the quote from the television show, The X-Files. They say to look within, but what can I find in an empty shell?
By Andrea Corwin 16 days ago in Fiction