Short Story

The silent city
t. The road ended without warning, swallowed by a thick, silver fog that seemed to breathe. I should have turned back, but something inside me whispered to keep going. Each step felt heavier, as if the air itself was watching me. Then, suddenly, the fog parted.
By Ibrahim 12 minutes ago in Fiction
The Forest That Remembered
I walked through a forest where the trees whispered names of people who had never existed. The leaves shimmered with memories that had no owner. Each step I took echoed stories untold, and I realized the forest was alive, keeping the world’s forgotten possibilities safe within its roots
By Ibrahim about an hour ago in Fiction
Bahlool and the Logic of the Roasted Chicken
Bahlool and the Logic of the Roasted Chicken Many years ago, when Baghdad was a bustling center for trade, an Indian businessman arrived with a large caravan full of goods. After a long journey, he stopped at a local inn to rest. Hungry and tired, he ordered a simple dinner: a roasted chicken and a few boiled eggs. However, the next morning, things got complicated. The businessman woke up early to find his caravan already moving out. He looked for the cook to pay his bill, but the cook had stepped out on an errand. Since the caravan couldn't wait, the businessman had to leave without paying, intending to settle the debt the next time he passed through.
By Amir Husenabout an hour ago in Fiction
The Whispering Key
I found an old key in the attic, carved with symbols that hummed softly. When I turned it in the lock of a forgotten door, the walls melted into a corridor of floating lights. Each door led to a world that could not be described, only felt. And in that silence, I realized reality is only a suggestion, and imagination writes its own laws.
By Ibrahim about an hour ago in Fiction
The Lanterns of Forgotten Dreams
In the valley where lost dreams gather, tiny lanterns float in silence, illuminating paths unseen. Travelers never know they are walking among wishes abandoned long ago. One night, I followed a flickering light, and it led me to a door that opened only to imagination. Behind it, the universe whispered secrets no one else had ever heard.
By Ibrahim about an hour ago in Fiction
The Clock That Writes Futures
In a forgotten workshop, a golden clock did not tick—it wrote. Every hour, it inked moments of people who had not yet lived them. I watched in awe as a story of a stranger unfolded before my eyes. By dawn, the ink vanished, leaving only a sense that time itself had smiled at me.
By Ibrahim about an hour ago in Fiction
The Moonlit Garden
In the moonlit garden, shadows danced like spirits. Every flower glowed softly, carrying the secrets of the night. I wandered between the glowing petals, listening to whispers that spoke of forgotten dreams and hidden hopes. For a moment, the world outside vanished, leaving only the quiet magic of this enchanted place.
By Ibrahim about an hour ago in Fiction
Barkcast: Chaos at the Dog Park
The golden hour had arrived in West New York, casting long, dramatic shadows across the pavement of Boulevard East. The relentless roar of the morning commute had been replaced by the heavy, exhausted grinding of the 6:00 PM New Jersey Transit buses, returning the humans from the towering glass spires of Manhattan. The air smelled of exhaust, cooling asphalt, and the salty, damp breeze blowing up the Palisades from the Hudson River.
By Baltizareabout 5 hours ago in Fiction
Bahlool and the Lesson at the Bathhouse
Bahlool was a man who many people called "the wise fool." He lived simply, often wearing dusty clothes and wandering the streets, but those who truly knew him understood that every action he took had a deep meaning. He had a way of teaching people lessons without ever raising his voice.
By Amir Husenabout 5 hours ago in Fiction
The Selfish Horse and the Price of Arrogance
A long time ago, in a quiet village tucked away near the mountains, there lived a farmer who owned two very different animals: a horse and a donkey. The horse was a beautiful creature, with a sleek, shiny coat and powerful muscles. He was the farmer’s pride, often used for riding into town or showing off to neighbors. Because of this, the farmer rarely gave him any hard work to do. On the other hand, the donkey was small, grey, and dusty. His life was far from glamorous. From sunrise to sunset, he was the one carrying heavy sacks of grain, pulling the plow through the muddy fields, and doing all the "dirty work" around the farm.
By Amir Husenabout 7 hours ago in Fiction
The Envious Man and the Man of Light
In a quiet town of modest size, where neighbors knew each other by name and life moved at a gentle pace, there lived two men in adjoining houses. At first glance, they seemed ordinary—just two residents sharing a boundary wall. But behind that wall grew a darkness that would soon change both their lives forever.
By Mariana Fariasabout 7 hours ago in Fiction
Wasp Talk. Content Warning.
Introduction This is inspired by a few things: My friend Chris said wasps were the football hooligans of the insect world, my recent post where I stated that some people are only happy when they are miserable or have something to complain about, and the book I am reading, "The Roaches Have No King" by Dabiel Evan Weiss which is about New York Apartment life observed by cockroaches.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about 7 hours ago in Fiction