Short Story
Shadow On The Ledge. Content Warning.
‘So, you think life has meaning, yet here you are on the ledge? That doesn't add up.’ ‘Yes, it does. Imagine wanting to die and standing there on the edge, facing death. At first, your whole life flashes before you—each disaster feels overwhelming, piling up. The emotions freeze you. But as you stand there, something changes. Slowly, those disasters lose their weight. Painful memories fade, and suddenly, you start remembering good moments you had overlooked. It’s like your mind finally breaks free from focusing only on the bad and shows you small signs of hope you hadn’t seen before.’
By Moon Desert3 days ago in Fiction
The Cracks in the Stone: What the Myth Refused to Record
The myth-makers like to say that when Amaterasu Omikami entered the cave, the world simply went dark. They use the word "dark" as if it were a clean, binary switch—the absence of a lamp, a blanket thrown over a birdcage. They tell you that the gods gathered by the river to laugh her back out, as if a divine party could cure a cosmic trauma.
By Takashi Nagaya3 days ago in Fiction
The Man Who Survived 76 Days Lost at Sea: A True Story of Survival. AI-Generated.
The Man Who Survived 76 Days Lost at Sea: A True Story of Survival The ocean can be beautiful, peaceful, and endless. But when you are lost in it—completely alone—it becomes something else entirely.
By Baseer Shaheen 3 days ago in Fiction
Echoes of Resistance
The streets of Bristol were alive that day, though not with the usual hum of buses and chatter, but with the heavy pulse of voices that demanded to be heard. I had not intended to join the protest—I came to observe, to write, to bear witness—but once I stepped into the swell of people, the energy was impossible to ignore. The banners waved above heads, each one a story, a demand, a prayer. The scent of rain-soaked asphalt mixed with the faint tang of chalk from hastily scrawled messages, leaving the air electric.
By imtiazalam3 days ago in Fiction
Gorgon's Purgatory. Content Warning.
A tingling sensation fills my head. A deep pressure builds into agonizing pain as the serpents swallow their midnight meal. They move their jaws in synchronized contractions, forcing the bodies of mice down their gullets. The mice wiggle within the snakes for what feels like an eternity, brushing the scaly, cold skin in a ballet of torture.
By Tas The Artist 3 days ago in Fiction
