Ashes and Embers

hamed Jan. 12, 2025, 5:59 p.m.

The house was gone.

Emma stood at the edge of the blackened lot, her boots sinking into the scorched earth. The air still carried the acrid scent of smoke, mingling with the faint sweetness of charred wood.

In her mind, the house was still there—the yellow shutters her daughter had painted, the oak dining table that had seen every family meal, the bookshelf her late husband had built. But reality mocked her memories. All that remained was a pile of ash, twisted beams, and broken glass glittering like fallen stars.

Her daughter, Clara, clutched her hand tightly. “Mom,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What about Dad’s guitar?”

Emma closed her eyes, the lump in her throat too large to swallow. That old guitar had been his treasure, a relic of nights filled with music and laughter. It was gone, just like the photographs, the letters, the heirloom quilt her grandmother …

Who Owns His Time

dehongi Jan. 11, 2024, 5:14 p.m.

In the heart of a bustling metropolis, amidst the towering skyscrapers and ceaseless hum of urban life, resided a man named Ethan, who had discovered the profound truth that those who wielded complete dominion over their time were often the most contented souls.

Ethan, unlike many of his peers, didn't succumb to the tyranny of the clock, allowing his schedule to dictate his days. Instead, he took command of his time, carving out precious moments for his passions and pursuits, ensuring that each day unfolded in a symphony of self-fulfillment.

He rose early each morning, greeting the dawn with a sense of purpose, not as a prelude to another day of obligations, but as an opportunity to embrace the beauty of the world around him. He would embark on invigorating runs through serene parks, allowing the fresh air to invigorate his mind and body, before settling into his cozy study …

The Middle Ground

hamed Jan. 14, 2025, 4:41 p.m.

Jared had always been a mechanic, the kind of guy who could fix anything with a wrench and some duct tape. He'd spent the last decade building his small but steady business, a workshop tucked away in a neighborhood that had started to lose its charm. Cars, trucks, motorcycles—he fixed them all. The work wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills and kept food on the table for his wife and two kids.

These days, however, things felt different. The economy was shifting, and the jobs in the middle—like his—were slipping away. Every day, Jared saw more and more shiny electric vehicles on the road, and fewer of the old trucks that used to line his garage. It wasn’t that his skills were outdated—far from it—but the world was changing faster than he could keep up.

A few weeks ago, a big dealership offered him a contract to become a …

The Juggle

hamed Jan. 14, 2025, 5:07 p.m.

Samantha’s phone buzzed as she slammed the door behind her. Another notification. A new gig. She had exactly twenty minutes to get from her current job—coffee shop barista—across town to the downtown office for a freelance writing assignment.

She glanced at her watch. It was 3:15 p.m. The writing deadline was set for 4:00 p.m., but if she hurried, she might make it.

The barista shift had been slow today. She had spent most of the afternoon brewing cappuccinos and memorizing the order of her life: wake up early, work the coffee shop, rush to the next gig, get home late, repeat. She had no time for much else, but she needed the money. Freelance writing didn’t always pay on time, but bartending did. The freelance gig she had lined up was supposed to be a feature on local businesses, but lately, she'd been scrambling for anything that …

The Miracle of 3:42 AM

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 5:03 p.m.

Nadia stared at the beeping monitor in the ER, her hand trembling against her abdomen. "Pregnant?" she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of disbelief. "That’s impossible. I’m… I can’t…"

The doctor adjusted his glasses, his expression softening. "I understand this is a shock. But you’re in labor, Ms. Farah. We need to move quickly."

Her mind spun. For years, she had tried. The clinics, the tears, the endless tests all pointed to one unyielding conclusion: infertility. She had mourned the children she would never have, buried that dream deep inside her. And now, after all this time, here she was, caught in a whirlwind of chaos and pain, about to meet a child she never knew existed.

"How did I not know?" she gasped, gripping the side of the gurney as another contraction rippled through her body. The nurse, a kind-faced woman, squeezed her shoulder. "Sometimes, life keeps …

The Doll

sara Jan. 27, 2024, 8:57 a.m.

Anna loved dolls. She had a big collection of them in her room. She liked to dress them up, comb their hair, and talk to them. She treated them like her friends.

One day, her mother bought her a new doll. It was a porcelain doll with curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and a pink dress. It looked very pretty and delicate. Anna was very happy with her new doll. She named it Lily and put it on her shelf with the other dolls.

That night, Anna went to bed and fell asleep. She had a strange dream. She dreamed that she was in her room, but it was dark and cold. She saw Lily sitting on her shelf, staring at her with a creepy smile. She heard Lily's voice in her head, saying:

"Hello, Anna. I'm your new friend. I want to play with you. Forever."

Anna felt scared …

The Last Trade

hamed Jan. 10, 2025, 5:44 p.m.

The bell over the door jingled one final time. Sofia looked up, her fingers idly tracing the floral patterns carved into the counter. It was a relic from her father’s era, the oak stained with decades of varnish and sweat. In walked Mrs. Devlin, her scarf pulled tightly around her face against the January chill.

“You’re really closing, Sofia?” Mrs. Devlin’s voice was soft, almost mournful.

Sofia nodded, forcing a smile. “Last day. The shelves are nearly bare, anyway.”

She glanced around the store. The jars of Italian olives, the French soaps, and the Turkish tea sets had been replaced with emptiness. The new tariffs had priced her loyal customers out, and soon even her suppliers had stopped calling.

“I thought I’d at least make it to spring,” Sofia said, her voice cracking despite herself. She cleared her throat. “Guess not.”

Mrs. Devlin set a tin of local honey on …

The Last Garden

hamed Feb. 16, 2024, 11:40 a.m.

She had never seen a real flower. Only in the faded pictures and hazy videos buried in her grandfather's dusty library. He would speak softly of the world as it once was—a place pulsing with color, life, and the comforting sounds of animals that roamed the lands, the skies, the seas. He spoke of people digging their hands into rich soil to grow food, of laughter shared in warm sunlight, and nights filled with starlight. He called it paradise. That paradise, he said, had vanished—erased by wars, plagues, and the relentless march of climate change.

Now, only humans remained, fed by artificial food churned out by machines. The sky hung heavy with smog, rivers ran dark with toxins, and the earth lay desolate. Gone was the beauty, the promise, the hope.

Yet she had a secret, a fragile glimmer of life she kept hidden from the sterile monotony around her. …

A Curtain Divides the World - Chapter 4: "Operation Opposite Gender"

dehongi Jan. 17, 2025, 6:40 p.m.

The wedding was the perfect opportunity. Or, at least, that’s how Arash had framed it to Kian as they rode together in the back seat of Kian’s dad’s car.
“You’re overthinking this,” Kian grumbled, adjusting his tie for the fifth time. “It’s just a wedding.”
“It’s not just a wedding,” Arash said with a mischievous grin. “It’s a rare chance to observe and maybe—just maybe—interact with the opposite gender.”
Kian gave him a sidelong glance. “You make it sound like we’re wildlife biologists studying a new species.”
“That’s kind of what we are,” Arash said. “Think about it. How often do we get to be in the same space as girls? This is our chance to see what they’re really like.”
“I already know what they’re like,” Kian muttered. “They’re terrifying.”
When they arrived at the venue, a sprawling garden decorated with fairy lights and elaborate floral arrangements, Arash’s excitement only grew. The air buzzed with …

A Day in the Life

hamed Jan. 14, 2025, 5:18 p.m.

It used to be that Marta’s mornings began with the sound of the rooster crowing, just as the first light of dawn broke over the mountainside. She would rise from her small, modest home in the village, step outside to feel the coolness of the earth beneath her bare feet, and tend to her crops. The soil was her world, the fields her second home. There was rhythm to it, a simplicity in the steady march of seasons. She knew the land. It gave back what she put in. And the days were long, but not without purpose.

She remembers those days—before the land became more of a burden than a blessing.

Now, her alarm rings at 6:00 a.m. like it always has, but the sound is jarring in a way that the rooster never was. She’s no longer outside with the soil beneath her fingers; instead, she’s in a …