Holiday

The Last Phone Call
The Last Phone Call Some calls aren't meant to be answered. By Darwesh The phone rang at 1:47 a.m.
By Shafi Ullah Darwesh10 months ago in Fiction
My Grandmother’s Mirror Only Reflects the Dead
The Mirror’s First Secret I almost sold the mirror the day after Grandma Lillian’s funeral. It was an ugly thing—a heavy oak frame carved with twisting vines, the glass smoky with age. But Mom insisted: "She wanted you to have it. Said it was special."
By MUHAMMAD Abbas10 months ago in Fiction
The Day Humanity Died
Story: It didn’t happen suddenly. No explosions, no alien invasions, no nuclear fallout. The end began in whispers. Not of war… but of disinterest.
By TrueVocal10 months ago in Fiction
Where Did My Summers Go? In Six Drabbles
When I was six, I got six weeks' summer holiday to do whatever I wanted (and many things I didn't want like chores), but that was one week for every year of my life.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 10 months ago in Fiction
Time is Money 💰
In the city of Chronovale, time wasn’t just measured—it was currency. Every citizen wore a sleek, silver wristband that ticked down their life’s seconds, each tick a coin spent on survival. Rent, food, love—everything cost time. The wealthy hoarded years, their wristbands glowing with surplus, while the poor scrambled, their bands dimming toward zero. Elias Kane was one of the latter, a street artist whose wristband flickered at 3 days, 7 hours, and 42 minutes.
By TrueVocal10 months ago in Fiction
Her Smile Was the Last Clue
The Girl Who Smiled at Rain It all began in the quiet town of Willowbrook, where the rain fell almost every afternoon, and the streets smelled of old books and roses.
By Muhammad Hayat10 months ago in Fiction
THE LAST ROAD TRIP
The engine coughed, sputtered, then roared back to life as Jax white-knuckled the steering wheel. The old Chevy had been his father’s—a relic from the Before Times, when gas was cheap and music wasn’t a death sentence. Beside him, Nova chewed her thumbnail raw, her knee bouncing like a live wire.
By shoaib khan10 months ago in Fiction
The Keeper of Forgotten Colors
The world had forgotten color when Elara was a child, the Fade stealing hues like a thief in the night. Skies turned to ash, forests to charcoal, and eyes saw only gray. Paintings crumbled, flowers withered, and the word “blue” became a myth. Elders spoke of a time when rainbows arced and sunsets burned, but to Elara’s generation, it was folklore. Yet Elara, now twenty-three, was different. She remembered. In a crumbling lighthouse on a jagged cliff, she became the Keeper, weaving colors from memories in a world that had none.Each night, Elara climbed the lighthouse’s rusted spiral stairs, her hands stained with impossible shades. In a room of shattered mirrors, her loom—a relic of bone and wire—hummed with power. She wove blue from her mother’s shawl, its sapphire folds swaying as she sang lullabies. Red came from the apple she’d stolen at seven, its juice sharp on her tongue. Gold flared from sunsets she’d chased across cliffs, their warmth lingering in her chest. Every thread cost a memory, erased forever. Her mother’s voice faded, then the apple’s taste, then those sunsets’ glow. Elara gave them willingly. The world needed color more than she needed her past.Below, the town of Graysill scoffed. “Colors?” fishermen muttered, kicking gray pebbles. “Delusions.” But children left offerings at the lighthouse—pebbles smeared with charcoal, chalk, anything resembling hue. Elara collected them, her heart aching for their hope. One stormy night, a girl slipped inside. Kiv, ten years old, with slate-gray eyes, stared at Elara’s glowing threads. “You’re real,” she whispered. “Can you make green?”Elara’s breath caught. Green was her last untouched memory: her father’s laugh, fishing on a lake under emerald pines. “It costs me,” she said, voice like sea fog. Kiv stepped closer, her small hand brushing Elara’s. “Then let me help.”No one had offered before. Elara hesitated, then taught Kiv to weave—not with threads, but stories. Kiv spoke of a kite she’d flown, its tail a ghost of green in her mind. The loom sparked, green shimmering, but Kiv’s eyes stayed gray—she couldn’t see it. “Keep telling,” Elara urged. Kiv’s voice grew bold: meadows where she’d run, limes she’d tasted, a jade pendant her mother once wore. The green thread thickened, vibrant, alive, curling like vines in the air.Rumors spread. Children crept to the lighthouse, then adults, each carrying fragments—memories of crimson roses, violet storms, amber dawns.
By TrueVocal10 months ago in Fiction
Death or Love. Content Warning.
Under the burning twilight of a kingdom falling into chaos, a lone warrior named Ean strode through a scarred battlefield. His eyes, filled with fierce resolve, mirrored the raw intensity of his spirit—a spirit that had chosen the honorable death of fighting for a dream over the lingering pain of love.
By Edge Alexander10 months ago in Fiction
Juneteenth. Content Warning.
To me this is like Independence Day for people of color, and I do not mean to be racist. If I was around during the Civil War, I believe I would have been an abolitionist. Slavery was a bad idea, and no body should be enslaved to do others work no matter what kind of work. I know there were some White plantation owners (masters) that were good to their slaves, and they should be remembered even though slavery was an idea that they thought was right and yet wrong. Here is an acrostic that I think kind of explains 'Juneteenth'.
By Mark Graham10 months ago in Fiction
The Girl At Apartment 9 Ep.2 :The Motel & The Call
Eliza didn’t even look back as she wheeled her suitcase out of the building. Apartment 9 was no longer just a place—it was a breathing, watching thing. The hallway lights flickered behind her, one last time, as if it were waving goodbye. Or warning her.
By Gifty Korankye10 months ago in Fiction
Unfollowed: The Fall of Ava Rose
Ava Rose had it all—millions of followers, brand deals with the biggest names in fashion and skincare, and a beachfront apartment that made her the envy of every influencer under 30. Her fans adored her for her relatability, style, and candid "no-filter" attitude. But on a sunny Thursday morning, all of that came crashing down in a 38-second video that spread faster than wildfire.
By ABDU LLAH10 months ago in Fiction