Classical

The Voynich Manuscript. AI-Generated.
Ahmed had thought he had seen strange things in his life—hidden libraries beneath deserts, tombs with traps that seemed designed to test courage—but nothing compared to the first time he laid eyes on the Voynich Manuscript.
By Nusuki4 months ago in Fiction
The Cosmic Background Whisper. AI-Generated.
Dr. Elias Koren had spent his life listening to the stars. Not with his ears, exactly, but with the instruments that let him hear space—the faint hum of cosmic radiation, the static that stretched across the universe like whispers between galaxies.
By Nusuki4 months ago in Fiction
Sunset Grace: A Parisian Balcony Encounter
It was the soft, golden hour in Paris, that fleeting, sacred interlude the French call l'heure dorée. The day, with its clamor and commerce, was exhaling a final, contented sigh, and the city, in turn, breathed back a soft, ethereal light. The wind, a gentle accomplice in this twilight conspiracy, drifted from the Seine, carrying with it the faint, complex perfume of river water, rain-washed stone, and the distant promise of evening blossoms. It brushed against my face, a cool, silken touch, as I leaned back on the modest wrought-iron terrace of my rented apartment in the 7th arrondissement.
By Stefano D'angello4 months ago in Fiction
The Passport of Torenza — Part II
Jonathan Reed had worked at London Heathrow for fourteen years. He’d seen frightened tourists, forged documents, and even a smuggler who tried to hide a parrot in his coat sleeve. But nothing—nothing—prepared him for the man from Gate 13.
By Wellova 4 months ago in Fiction
The Secret Life of Plants. AI-Generated.
Mina had always loved forests. As a child, she would wander for hours near her grandmother’s village in northern England, listening to the rustle of leaves and the chirping of birds, feeling as though the trees themselves were whispering secrets. But she never imagined that one day she would discover just how true that feeling was.
By Nusuki4 months ago in Fiction
Marquis de Sade's "The Ghost"
Note: The following is a retelling of "Le Revenant" ("The Ghost") by the Marquis de Sade, from the small book Short Histories, Stories, and Fables, which he wrote in La Pelagie prison between 1794-1795. It is uncharacteristically a tame, even bourgeois tale. We have remained faithful to the original in that regard. C'est la vie.
By Tom Baker4 months ago in Fiction
Tattered Riches. Honorable Mention in Through the Keyhole Challenge.
The antique keyhole is hard to resist. Peering through, as if a portal to another time, my right eye adjusts to the dimness, swallowing the austere decrepitude of the baby blue foyer. I spy the yellowed edge of our Laidlaw coat of arms, framed in black wood. Gripping the smooth, age-burnished brass knob, I keep my eye to the hole, transfixed by dancing dust mites glittering in the dying sun’s rays cutting the small room into a pair of acute triangles.
By Cathy Schieffelin4 months ago in Fiction
The Passport of Torenza
They found her in the pre-clearance queue at Torrento International just after midnight, a single passport on the stainless steel tray and a story nobody at the airport could fit into their forms.
By Wellova 4 months ago in Fiction
From Darkness to Noor. AI-Generated.
The night was quiet — almost too quiet. Rain tapped gently against the windowpane as Ayaan sat alone, staring at nothing. The room was dim, cluttered, and heavy with silence. His phone screen lit up every few minutes with messages from people who had long stopped understanding him. He didn’t answer anymore.
By Nusuki4 months ago in Fiction
Korean Drama Fan?
It was 2022, a year that found me unexpectedly unemployed, with time stretching out before me and the creeping stress of uncertainty starting to set in. I was desperate for something to keep my mind engaged, motivated, and, most importantly, stress-free. That's when a dear friend recommended I dive into the vibrant world of Korean dramas. Little did I know, I was about to fall head over heels into a new obsession!
By Nabi-Bella4 months ago in Fiction
The Last Letter Home
The sound of the postman’s boots on the gravel was enough to send Clara’s heart racing every morning. It had been three months since James left for the front, and every letter that arrived carried the warmth of his presence, even across oceans and battlefields. She lived for the scratch of his handwriting, the way he always signed off with “All my love, always — James.”
By Asghar ali awan4 months ago in Fiction
The Girl Who Spoke to the Stars. AI-Generated.
In a small, quiet town that smelled of damp earth and lavender, there lived a girl who everyone simply called Fairy Girl. It wasn't because she was particularly ethereal or wore wings; it was because of her eyes. They were the colour of twilight, and when she looked at you, it felt as though she saw not just you, but the constellation of quiet wishes you carried deep inside.
By fairy girl4 months ago in Fiction