Holiday

“The Last Paper Crane”*
In a narrow lane where the sun barely touched the ground by midday, tucked between a tea stall and an old tailor’s shop, stood a small stationery store with peeling green paint and a wooden sign that read “Baba Jan’s Papers” in faded ink.
By meerjanan8 months ago in Fiction
*The Bench by the Lake*
There was a lake on the edge of a quiet town, half-hidden behind sycamore trees and tangled ivy. It wasn’t on any tourist map, and no signs pointed to it. But those who found it—by accident or ache—often came back.
By meerjanan8 months ago in Fiction
Picture Perfect
What a scene! I was standing at the entrance, slightly to the side, so that I wouldn’t get knocked over by the steady stream of people coming into the park.
By Meredith Harmon8 months ago in Fiction
Panorama
I was trying to concentrate when the neighbors came out. They’re not bad, just loud. They’re the type that can’t not comment on what they see, and from their balcony, they can see everything.
By Meredith Harmon8 months ago in Fiction
*The Great Goat Escape*
In the quiet village of Chamakpur, where the days passed like slow-moving clouds and the loudest sound was usually the rooster’s morning call, one creature had a talent for turning calm into comedy: Bakri No. 47.
By meerjanan8 months ago in Fiction
The Last Bus to Terminal 9
The sky was never blue anymore. It hung low over the crumbling city like a rusted lid, filtering every ray of sunlight into a dull, sickly hue. People walked the streets with bowed heads and regulation-gray masks, their eyes hollow with routine. Screens blinked from the walls, reminding everyone: "Compliance Ensures Survival."
By Muhammad Bilal8 months ago in Fiction
*The Last Light*
In the quiet town of Crestwood, where mornings began with a soft veil of fog draping over the hills and the cobblestone streets held the echoes of generations, lived a woman named Elara. She wasn’t loud or bold, but people remembered her—her stillness, the way she listened like every word mattered, and the faint sadness in her eyes that somehow felt comforting, like the hush before snowfall.
By meerjanan8 months ago in Fiction
Secrets Buried In The Snow. Content Warning.
Red and blue lights spattered against the fresh, quiet snow that blanketed our normally boring neighborhood. These lights were different- harsh, urgent, and nothing like the twinkling Christmas lights that had promised a wonderful holiday. Cop cars were parked in front of the house across the street. My best friend’s house. Samantha’s house.
By Chy8 months ago in Fiction
I Paid a Witch to Erase My Memories But They’re Coming Back
I Paid a Witch to Erase My Memories But They’re Coming Back You don’t find witches in neon-lit cities or suburban cul-de-sacs. You find them in the cracks of reality between the forgotten and the forbidden. I didn’t seek her out because I believed in magic. I sought her because I was desperate to forget.
By Farooq Hashmi8 months ago in Fiction
The Letter I Was Never Meant to Read
By Nadeem Shah I found the letter by accident. Tucked inside the back of my mother’s worn-out recipe book, behind a page smudged with gravy stains and faint ink scribbles about nutmeg, was an envelope that didn’t belong. It was brittle, yellowed with age, and sealed with a faded wax stamp I didn’t recognize.
By Nadeem Shah 8 months ago in Fiction
The Bookstore That Only Opens at Midnight
he Bookstore That Only Opens at Midnight I stumbled upon it by accident or maybe, as I now believe, it found me. It was just past midnight on a rainy Thursday when I saw a faint light flicker in the corner of an old alley I had walked past a hundred times before. Between two abandoned buildings stood a narrow, ivy-covered doorway with a crooked wooden sign swinging in the wind. It simply read: “Open”.
By Farooq Hashmi8 months ago in Fiction
City of Dreams
In a city where millions pass each other without a second glance, two strangers unknowingly share something intimate: the same dreams.
By Solene Hart8 months ago in Fiction