Historical

The Promise of the Wind: Chapter One
It all started thousands of years back in what was believed to be a mystical world, Almata, so far away from the earth, that it would take some centuries for anyone to get there.
By Alana Zian5 months ago in Fiction
THE ASHMOOR LEGACY (Part 2)
Start writing...Dawn didn't break; it leaked. A pale, sickly grey light infiltrated the floor-to-ceiling windows, feeling greasy and cold. It did little to dispel the shadows that clung like dark mould to the sharp, brutalist corners of Ashmoor Hall. The house, by day, felt even more oppressive—a silent, concrete tomb waiting for night to fall again.
By Wellova 5 months ago in Fiction
The Moon and the Burning Forest
The world was ending in orange and ash. The ancient forest of Elmswood, a kingdom of oak and pine that had stood for a thousand years, was screaming. A careless spark from a forgotten campfire had become a ravenous beast, consuming everything in its path. The air was a solid, hot wall of smoke, and the roar of the flames was the only sound, a hungry, relentless god.
By Habibullah5 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker’s Gift
In Ravelle, time had a slower pace. The streets between the stone houses were meandering like the ribbon streets and every evening, in the air, the smell of bread from the old bakery and the faint scent of rain. At the very center of the town was to be found a little shop with a faded sign reading:
By Nusuki5 months ago in Fiction
Echoes of the Soul: Urdu Stories That Awaken the Heart
Urdu literature is a garden of emotions — filled with fragrance, sorrow, love, and reflection. Every story carries a heartbeat, a hidden lesson, and a whisper from the soul. These timeless tales are not just about characters; they are about life itself — about forgiveness, honesty, sacrifice, and kindness. They awaken something deep within us and remind us that to be human is to feel, to care, and to grow.
By hamad khan5 months ago in Fiction
The Last Dream Seller
In a town where night had lost its magic and the streets were silent, a peculiar shop stood between an old bakery and a shuttered bookstore. Its windows were misted with silver dust, and the faded sign read: Dreams for Sale. Most of the townsfolk passed by without a second glance, thinking it abandoned. But inside, under the dim glow of lanterns, a man worked quietly, arranging tiny glass bottles filled with sparkling mist.
By Muhammad Kashif 5 months ago in Fiction
Glass Danse Macabre
The stillness. The steely stillness that stole my breath was ever present. For so long, it had claimed my heart and devotion, and felt alive. Now it felt empty.
By Paul Stewart5 months ago in Fiction
The Call of the Minaret
The early sun had just started to rise from behind the house tops of Medina when Bilal woke up. The air was still cool and heavy with the smell of sand and date palms. For a moment, he listened to the faint sounds of the city waking -- the distant bleating of goats, the clatter of water pots and the quiet hum of life returning after the silence of the night.
By Nusuki5 months ago in Fiction
The Light of the Desert
And the wind sang along the dunes, and Malik took a brush against his shabby cloak, and the desert sand was like tiny sparks on his face. This was hours of walking on part of him, in pursuit of the horizon that kept on pushing away. The sun was now setting, and coloured the sky with fire and gold.
By Nusuki5 months ago in Fiction
The Weight of Memories. AI-Generated.
As I walked away from the house, the fading light of the sun cast long shadows across the neighborhood. I felt a sense of peace wash over me, as if the weight of memories I'd carried for so long had finally begun to lift. The conversation with Mrs. Jenkins had been a balm to my soul, and I was grateful for her kindness.
By Muhammad Kashif 5 months ago in Fiction
The Night I Realized Love Wasn’t Meant To Save Me
I used to believe love was supposed to be the thing that rescued us. The thing that filled every empty space inside a person. The thing that fixed the parts of life that felt broken. I believed that love was the answer to loneliness, to fear, to the type of quiet sadness that sits in your chest like permanent weight.
By Umar Farooq5 months ago in Fiction
The Princess's Sleeves
The end of summer always meant two things to Tamar: the season to pick pomegranates was being left behind and the week of celebrating her birthday was near. She'd requested yards of silk and linen for gifts this year, in hopes to make garments for the other women in the palace, yet she couldn't stop thinking of the "surprise" her father had promised. Today, she was determined to find where he'd hidden it, or at least get a hint.
By Jessica Flayser5 months ago in Fiction