Jack Nod

Joined June 2025

76 stories

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Real stories with heart and fire—meant to inspire, heal, and awaken. If it moves you, read it. If it lifts you, share it. Tips and pledges fuel the journey. Follow for more truth, growth, and power. ✍️🔥✨

Stories (76)

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Heatwave: Year 2080
The year was 2080, and the world had stopped pretending that summers were seasons. They were punishments. In what had once been Karachi, the sun pressed down like a hammer. Streets shimmered as though fire crawled across the asphalt. The city was quieter than it had ever been in its history. People rarely ventured outside during the day now; the government enforced “shade curfews,” a law demanding everyone remain indoors between noon and six. Breaking it was not just illegal but suicidal.
By Jack Nod6 months ago in Fiction
The Day Time Stopped for Me
I’ve always thought time was merciless—never waiting, never pausing, dragging us forward whether we were ready or not. But on one strange afternoon, I learned what it meant when time actually stopped.
By Jack Nod6 months ago in Fiction
The Last Room on Sycamore Street
The taxi dropped Emma at the corner of Sycamore Street just as the fog rolled in, muffling the outlines of houses. The street was mostly quiet, save for the faint hum of a streetlamp that flickered as if it, too, had grown weary.
By Jack Nod6 months ago in Horror
Beneath the Noise
Amara had always loved the city for its energy—the blaring horns, the chatter of cafes, the constant hum of life. But lately, that energy had become unbearable. Every morning felt like a storm she couldn’t escape. Emails piled up faster than she could answer them, deadlines loomed like dark clouds, and her mind raced even in her sleep. The city that once inspired her now drowned her in relentless noise.
By Jack Nod6 months ago in Lifehack
Dream Together
Rafay and Aisha had been friends since college. They bonded over late-night study sessions, endless cups of coffee, and an unspoken shared dream: one day, they would create something that mattered—something of their own.
By Jack Nod6 months ago in Motivation
The Secret Habit I’ve Hidden for 10 Years
For a decade, I’ve carried a secret no one knows about—not my family, not my closest friends, not even the people I swore I would tell everything to. It started small, harmless even, but it grew into something I kept locked away because I was terrified of being judged.
By Jack Nod6 months ago in Confessions
When the Rain Stopped
The rain had been falling for three days without rest, a steady curtain of silver that turned streets into rivers and blurred the city into a watercolor painting of water and shadow. Cars crawled through the flood with headlights glowing like tired eyes, and pedestrians moved like ghosts under umbrellas, their reflections shimmering in the puddles.
By Jack Nod6 months ago in Fiction
The Last Room on Ashford Street
It was raining the night Daniel Crane returned to Ashford Street. The lane had always been narrow, but in the years since he’d last walked it, it seemed to have folded in on itself. Lamplight spilled across cracked cobblestones, illuminating patches of moss that glistened under the drizzle. The smell of wet stone and river water drifted up from the quay, just a few blocks away.
By Jack Nod6 months ago in Fiction
You Loved Me Like I Was Temporary
I used to think love was something you could hold onto if you gripped it tightly enough. I thought that if I gave enough, stayed long enough, and believed hard enough, it would last. But with you, I learned that sometimes love is a place you visit, not a place you live.
By Jack Nod6 months ago in Humans
The Memory Weaver of Willow Creek
Elara didn’t have a shop with a sign. The people of Willow Creek knew where to find her small cottage, tucked away behind a canopy of ancient willows that dipped their long, green fingers into a slow-moving creek. They came to her not for mended shoes or fresh bread, but for something far more delicate: their memories. Elara was a memory weaver, and in a town where the past weighed heavy on every soul, she was a quiet, necessary comfort.
By Jack Nod6 months ago in Fiction
Starting Over: My First Story After My Longest Break
The cursor blinked on the blank page, a tiny, unforgiving pulse in the vast, white emptiness of the screen. It was a rhythm I knew well, a metronome that once set the pace for my thoughts, but now felt like a stranger's heartbeat. It had been 587 days since I last wrote a story. Not that I was counting, of course. My journal held the precise number, tucked between notes on grocery lists and a list of plants I desperately wanted to keep alive (a project that, much like my writing, had fallen into disrepair).
By Jack Nod6 months ago in Journal
The Quiet Roar Within
Eliza lived in a world painted in muted watercolors. Her apartment, though bright with morning sun, often felt shadowed by an unseen presence. It wasn't sadness, not exactly. It was more like a constant, low hum beneath the surface of her life, a quiet roar that only she could hear. It wasn't loud enough to shatter her composure, but persistent enough to muffle joy, to dull colors, to make every interaction feel like a performance. The vibrant hues of a sunset through her window would appear as washed-out pastels, the rich aroma of her morning coffee seemed faint, and the lively chatter of city life outside her building often registered as a distant, indistinguishable drone. She moved through her days with a practiced grace, a phantom limb of normalcy that everyone else perceived as her true self.
By Jack Nod6 months ago in Motivation

Jack Nod

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Stories .css-1svwz57-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(76)

Filter by community

Heatwave: Year 2080

The Day Time Stopped for Me

The Last Room on Sycamore Street

Beneath the Noise

Dream Together

The Secret Habit I’ve Hidden for 10 Years

When the Rain Stopped

The Last Room on Ashford Street

You Loved Me Like I Was Temporary

The Memory Weaver of Willow Creek

Starting Over: My First Story After My Longest Break

The Quiet Roar Within

Stories (76)