Love

I Watched Them Love Each Other Until I Had to Choose One
I Watched Them Love Each Other Until I Had to Choose One By Anees Ul Ameen I was built to hold people. Walls, floors, ceilings—bones meant to shelter warmth, laughter, life. I remember my first family clearly. The way their footsteps softened over time, how grief seeped slowly into my foundation after joy left.
By anees3 months ago in Fiction
Romance Rekindled?
Things between my husband, Steve, and I had become distant, cold. We worked hard, separate hours — him in construction by day and me as a night nurse. When we did see each other, it was all business.
By Julie Lacksonen3 months ago in Fiction
Banjo and Woody
"Banjo, when will we get out of here?" "I don't know, Woody, it all depends on Mommy." "What do you mean Banjo?" " She is doing her housework right now."
By Gregory Payton3 months ago in Fiction
A Call to Arms. Content Warning.
"Hello?" "You're a whore, and you'll always be a whore." "Frank, you can't talk to me like that." "What, I can't say the truth?"
By Heather3 months ago in Fiction
Happy Birthday, Mom
“Happy Birthday, Mom.” “Thank you so much, Jimmy. You’re such a good son.” “You’re welcome. I brought you a gift, I’m sorry I didn’t wrap it.”
By Rick Henry Christopher 3 months ago in Fiction
Staying Still. Content Warning.
“Did you bring it?” “I always bring it.” “You said that last time.” “And I wasn’t lying.” “You were incomplete.” “I was enough to get through.”
By Anthony Bryan Riva3 months ago in Fiction
The Thing in the Woods Loves Valentine's Day
The woods around Blackwood Ridge didn’t just look scary; they were actively trying to digest you. I adjusted the tie of my tuxedo, feeling ridiculous. The silk felt too smooth against my neck, especially since the rest of my body was covered in mud and scratches. A bramble—one of those sentient, black-thorned vines that only grow in cursed soil—snapped at my ankle. I stomped on it with a heavy hiking boot, hearing it hiss as it retreated into the fog.
By Amin Turabi3 months ago in Fiction
I was ready to let it all go — then a dog sat down next to me.
I didn’t wake up that day intending to live. That’s the part people don’t understand about moments like this. They think there’s a dramatic buildup, a clear decision, some kind of announcement to the world.
By Paw Planet 3 months ago in Fiction
I didn’t know that this was the last time I would see my dog.
Mornings were perfectly normal. That’s what hurts the most. No warning. No strange feeling in my chest. No sense that this moment would become one I would replay for the rest of my life.
By Paw Planet 3 months ago in Fiction
Nathalie
Jenn: "You told me you weren't going to leave!" Nat: "How did you find me?" Jenn: "Let me take you home!" Nat: "I already called an UBER."
By I. Lazyryn3 months ago in Fiction
A Name Is Never Just a Name
Before she even existed, our daughter was already being argued over. Not about religion. Not about schools. Not about politics or screen time or whether she’d grow up liking dogs or cats.
By Iqbal 3 months ago in Fiction
A Conversation
“I don’t want to have this conversation…again” “We have to have this conversation, hun. Not just for our kids but for our own peace of mind. It haunts me, the thought of leaving you, or dying on you. It haunts me, just as much as that recurring nightmare plagues you.”
By Susan Loblaw3 months ago in Fiction