داستان زهرا

maryam Dec. 29, 2023, 7:55 p.m.

من یک دختر 9 ساله هستم و اسمم زهرا است. من دوست دارم با عروسک هایم بازی کنم و داستان های خیالی برای آنها بسازم. اما امروز مادرم گفت که باید برای یک مهمانی خانوادگی آماده شوم. من دوست ندارم به مهمانی ها بروم چون خیلی خسته کننده هستند. همه بزرگسال ها درباره کار و سیاست حرف می زنند و من را نمی شناسند. من تنها یک دختر کوچک هستم که دوست دارد بازی کند.

من از مادرم خواستم که بگذارد من در خانه بمانم و با عروسک هایم بازی کنم. اما او گفت که نمی توانم و باید با او بیایم. او گفت که مهمانی در خانه ی عمویم است و او یک هدیه خیلی خاص برای من دارد. من کنجکاو شدم و پرسیدم که هدیه چیست. اما او گفت که باید تا رسیدن به خانه ی عمویم صبر کنم.

من با مادرم رفتم و در ماشین نشستم. من …

The Garden

rumi Dec. 29, 2023, 7:35 p.m.

He had always hated gardens. As a child, he would avoid them, fearing the insects, the dirt, the thorns. He preferred to stay indoors, reading books, playing games, watching TV. He thought gardens were boring, messy, and useless.

As he grew older, his disdain for gardens did not change. He pursued a career in finance, working long hours, making money, buying things. He had no time for nature, no interest in flowers, no appreciation for beauty. He only cared about himself, and his success.

He had no friends, no lovers, no hobbies, no interests. He only had himself, and his things. He thought he was happy, until one day, he met her.

She was a gardener, a lover of plants, a nurturer of life. She had a smile that brightened his day, a voice that soothed his soul, a touch that healed his wounds. She showed him the wonders of …

The Mirror

rumi Dec. 29, 2023, 7:08 p.m.

She had always loved mirrors. As a child, she would spend hours in front of them, admiring her reflection, imagining she was a princess or a fairy. She would dress up in her mother's clothes and jewelry, and pretend she was someone else.

As she grew older, her fascination with mirrors did not fade. She collected them from different places, different eras, different shapes and sizes. She hung them on the walls of her apartment, creating a gallery of her own beauty. She would stare at them, mesmerized by her own image, oblivious to the world outside.

She had no friends, no lovers, no hobbies, no interests. She only had herself, and her mirrors. She thought she was happy, until one day, she found a new mirror.

It was an antique, a gift from her aunt who had passed away. It was oval, with a golden frame, and intricate carvings. …

Lila

khayam Dec. 29, 2023, 3:54 p.m.

The moving finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy piety nor wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it

Story:

Once upon a time, there was a young girl named Lila. She was a curious child who loved to explore the world around her. One day, while wandering through the forest, she stumbled upon a magical pen. When she picked it up, the pen began to write on its own. Lila was amazed as she watched the pen scribble across the page, creating beautiful stories and poems.

As she continued to write, Lila realized that the pen had a mind of its own. It wrote about things she had never even thought of before, and it seemed to have a life of its own. She tried to stop it, but the pen kept writing, and Lila couldn’t …

The Launch

readflashy Dec. 29, 2023, 7:58 a.m.

She checked the countdown on her laptop. Only 10 minutes left until the launch. She felt a surge of excitement and nervousness. She had worked hard for this moment, coding, designing, testing, and marketing her website. It was her dream project, a platform for writing, publishing and reading Flash Stories. She loved Flash Stories, short stories that could be read in a few minutes, usually less than 1000 words. They were a great way to express her creativity and imagination, and to entertain her readers.

She had created the website with the help of her friends, who shared her passion for Flash Stories. They had formed a team, each with their own skills and roles. They had faced many challenges and setbacks, but they had overcome them together. They had also received support and feedback from their beta users, who had signed up for early access. They had given her …

a genius loner.

ziamaiko Dec. 29, 2023, 5:58 a.m.

گاهی اوقات چنان با احساس همراه ربات‌ها صحبت می‌کرد که فراموش می‌کرد آنها احساساتی ندارند. حتی فراموش می‌کرد آنها ساخته‌ای به دست انسان‌ها هستند که قابلیت فراموش کردن هر چیزی را دارند.
«دست از درد و دل کردن با رباتا بردار. اونا حتی احساست تورو متوجه نمی‌شن.»
آرورا لبه‌ی میز نشسته بود و پاهایش را مثل یک کودک تکون می‌داد. مهم نبود چقدر سال‌ها می‌گذرند و سن او بالا می‌رود. او هنوز کودک هشت ساله‌ای است که روز اول ساخته شده بود. می‌توان گفت در طول آن هزار و دویست سال، هیچ کودکی مثل آرورا ساخته نشده بود.
همیشه موهایش را بالای سرش جمع می‌کرد و همراه دفتر کوچکش همه جای یتیم‌خانه قدم می‌زد. اگر فرد جدیدی به آنجا می‌آمد، قطعا آرورا را فرشته‌ای می‌دید که برای خدا پیغام می‌برد. به همین شکل از همه چیز یادداشت برداری می‌کرد.
آرورا سرش را کج کرد و گفت. «اما به هرحال بهم جواب می‌ده. همین برام …

You Owe Me

hafiz Dec. 27, 2023, 1:44 p.m.

The sun never says to the earth,
"You owe me."
Look what happens with a love like that.
It lights up the whole sky.

---

Even after all this time
The sun never says to the earth,
"You owe me."
Look what happens with a love like that.
It lights up the whole sky.

---

I wish I could show you
When you are lonely or in darkness
The astonishing light
Of your own being.

---

Out of a great need
We are all holding hands
And climbing.
Not loving is a letting go.
Listen,
The terrain around here
Is far too dangerous
For that.

---

The moon has become a dancer
At this festival of love.
This dance of light,
This sacred blessing,
This divine love,
Beckons us
To a world beyond
Only lovers can see
With their eyes of fiery passion.

------------------------------------------------

They met at the festival of love, where the moon was the dancer and the stars were the audience. They were drawn to each other by a force beyond their control, …

The Days of Spring Has Come

hafiz Dec. 27, 2023, 1:43 p.m.

The days of spring have come, the garden is in bloom
The nightingale sings on every branch, the breeze is in tune
The roses are laughing, the jasmine is fragrant
The beloved is in my arms, the world is content

Story:

She had waited for him for a long time. He was a traveler, a wanderer, a seeker of truth. He had left her to explore the world, to learn from different masters, to find his own path. She had given him her blessing, but also her promise. She would wait for him, no matter how long it took, no matter how far he went. She loved him more than anything, and she knew he loved her too.

She spent her days in the garden, tending to the flowers, listening to the birds, feeling the breeze. She prayed for his safety, his happiness, his return. She dreamed of him at night, his face, …

infinity.

ziamaiko Dec. 27, 2023, 9:29 a.m.

زیباترین آدم‌هایی که تا کنون شناخته بودم، آنهایی بودند که شکست خورده بودند. رنج می‌کردند. دچار فقدان بودند و با این‌حال راه خود را از اعماق درد و رنج گشودند و بیرون آمدند.
این افراد، یک حسی از قدردانی، حساسیت و فهم زندگی داشتند که آن‌ها را پر از شفقت، ملایمت و توجه عمیق و عاشقانه می‌کرد.
زیبایی این افراد، اتفاقی و بی‌سبب نبود.
و حال هرچقدر هم که او تلاش می‌کرد نشان دهد هیچ‌کدام از سختی‌هایی که کشیده برایش چیزی نبوده و قوی‌تر از این حرف‌هاست، اون گذر کرده. او مشقت‌ها را گذرانده و من با تمام وجود عارفانه و عاشقانه می‌پرستمش.
یعنی عشقی عارفانه.
«وقتی برای اولین‌بار تونستی روی پاهات راه بری رو یادت می‌آد؟ نه نمی‌آد. اما لوفی خوب یادشه. چون اون عشق بود. هر طرف ما پر از عشقه و ما بازم عین احمقا توی کوچه و خیابون دنبالش می‌گردیم. بعضی‌ وقتاهم، عشق یعنی رها کردن، آیکو. می‌دونم خنده‌داره اما …

(still not there.)

ziamaiko Dec. 26, 2023, 6:46 p.m.

مسئله‌ای که زیاد ذهنم را مشغول می‌کرد این بود که چرا هیچ‌کس اهمیت نمی‌دهد. برای هیچ‌کس مهم نبود ما مانند زندانی‌ها در این مکان زندگی می‌کنیم؟ از دنیای بیرون، تنها چند کتاب و دست نوشته داشتیم. جز چندین بچه‌ی کوچک، هیچ انسان دیگری آنجا نبود. تمام کودکان هشت سال به بالا بودند. والدینی نداشتند. خاطراتی هم نداشتند. حتی دلیلی برای زندگی هم نداشتند. فقط توسط رباط‌ها برای آینده آماده می‌شدند. کدام آینده؟ هیچ‌کداممان نمی‌دانستیم.
بی‌هوا در حال گشتن در محوطه بودم که پاترونی با سرعت از کنارم گذشت.
پاترون‌ها رباط‌های باهوشی بودند که مارا بزرگ می‌کردند. ما انسان بودیم. از آنها باهوش‌تر بودیم. پس چرا تمام زندگی ما دست آنها بود؟
پاترون را دنبال‌ کردم و در همان حین گفتم :
「به نظرت می‌تونم نویسنده بشم، بیست و هشت؟」
او فقط بی‌هوا از کنارم گذشت.「اوه نه. تو نمی‌تونی برای خودت شغل انتخاب کنی. 'اون‌ها' تصمیم‌گیرنده‌اند.」
'آن‌ها' هرکسی می‌توانستند باشند. کسانی که برای آینده‌ی ما تصمیم می‌گیرند. …