Series
The Last Days
The Last Days Part I Kinsley clutched her throat and began squeezing harder and harder. As Lacy lay on the ground dreaming of mermaids. She couldn’t help but wonder as her mind drifted to darkness. The night grew silent, as Lacy lay on the ground lifeless.
By Charelle Landers2 days ago in Fiction
OLEKSANDR UND MAVRIN (Oleksandr and Mavrin)
The Russian artillery had been pounding for three days straight. By the fourth morning the field hospital was no longer behind Ukrainian lines. It was simply in Russian lines. The white flag that someone had tied to a broken antenna flapped uselessly in the cold wind like a dying bird. Soldiers in different uniforms now walked the corridors. Some still wore the pixelated Ukrainian pattern; most wore the green and brown of the Federation. No one quite knew who was prisoner and who was guard anymore. In war, the line between the two is always thinner than men admit.
By ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR2 days ago in Fiction
THE GILDER’S LEDGER
THE GILDER’S LEDGER: Chapter 1 — The Case in the Shed March 26, 2026 This morning, I felt a pull to share some of the lesser-known truths about Gold Leaf. That thought led me straight to my old Gilder’s Case, which has sat locked away in the stillness of my brick shed for over twenty years.
By Alexander Burnside4 days ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
Another alumnus, now a software engineer, spoke about the day Mrs. Wilkes introduced a simple coding exercise in a math class, saying, “She made us see that logic isn’t confined to numbers; it’s a language we all speak.” The collective narrative painted a portrait of a woman who, through gentle discipline and unyielding optimism, shaped a generation of diverse professionals, all linked by the common thread of having once been her pupil.
By Forest Green6 days ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
Students—now adults with briefcases, tattoos, and children in tow—milled about, exchanging updates about careers, marriages, and the occasional misadventure involving a misplaced mortgage payment. In the center of the bustling scene, a long wooden table was laden with platters of finger foods, a towering chocolate cake bearing a handwritten “Happy Retirement, Mrs. Wilkes!” in glossy frosting, and a modest, polished podium that would soon witness a cascade of heartfelt speeches. The scent of roasted chicken mingled with the faint perfume of fresh lilies, a subtle homage to the teacher who had once insisted that “a good education smelled like curiosity, not cafeteria pizza.” The hum of conversation rose and fell like a familiar chorus, each voice stitching together the fragmented memories of a generation that had once been shepherded by a woman whose patience seemed as endless as the school’s hallway lockers.
By Forest Green6 days ago in Fiction
“Very Dark Times” OF USA
Ray Dalio Warns: The United States May Be Heading Into “Very Dark Times” Billionaire investor Ray Dalio has issued a stark warning: the United States may be heading into “very dark times.” His concerns are not based on short-term politics but on long-term historical patterns that have shaped the rise and fall of global superpowers.
By Wings of Time 6 days ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
As the evening progressed, the band kicked in a soft jazz rendition of a song that had become the unofficial anthem of their senior year, and the lights dimmed to a mellow amber, casting shadows that danced across the polished floor. Joan raised her glass again, this time to the future, and said, “Mrs. Wilkes taught us to be brave enough to rewrite our own endings, and tonight we celebrate not just her past, but the countless tomorrows she inspired.” A soft murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd, punctuated by the occasional clink of crystal and the occasional sigh of nostalgia. Emily, feeling the swell of emotion, added, “May we all carry her wisdom forward, turning every obstacle into a paragraph of triumph, just as she turned our doubts into essays of confidence.”
By Forest Green7 days ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
Megan stood at the head of the long, oak‑finished table, the soft glow of the chandelier throwing honeyed light across the polished surface, and she felt a flutter of nervous excitement as the murmuring crowd of former seniors and faculty began to settle into their seats. The high‑school reunion, cleverly merged with Mrs. Wilkes’ retirement celebration, had turned the gymnasium into a nostalgic ballroom, draped in banners that read “Class of ’01 – Forever United” and “Congratulations, Mrs. Wilkes!” The scent of fresh lilies mingled with the faint tang of cinnamon from the catering trays, while old yearbooks lay open on the sideboard, each page turning like a quiet reminder of the past. Megan cleared her throat, glanced at the photo of Mrs. Wilkes in her cap and gown, and began, “To the woman who taught us that words could change the world, and whose patience was as endless as the chalk dust that settled on her desk.” Her voice, steady but warm, carried the weight of thirty years of gratitude, and the room fell into a reverent hush, the kind that only true admiration can summon.
By Forest Green7 days ago in Fiction
