Classical
The Witnessing Wall: Tales from a Lonely Corner
If walls could talk, I would have told you about the life that once flowed through the rooms of this house. About the laughter that echoed in the halls, the love that was shared, and the dreams that were made. But now, as I stand alone in this abandoned home, the only sounds that surround me are the creaks and groans of my own wooden frame.
By Angelina w. (Poet)3 years ago in Fiction
The Save
If walls could talk, I would probably yell that the owner of this house needs to stop blowing on that trumpet. Does he honestly think that what he plays is music? If we walls had ears our ears would be bleeding. Our faces would be flushed and probably a plethora of expletives and insults would be yelled. That trumpet would be broken to pieces if we were people. However, everything serves a purpose. That trumpet served its purpose last week. As I am talking my sooty wall is being refurnished and repainted. This whole house has to undergo a remodel. It was because of the fire, a fire which saved a life.
By Sid Aaron Hirji3 years ago in Fiction
Whispers from Behind the Walls
The small village where Frank and Alice lived was a peaceful and idyllic place. The villagers lived simple lives, working hard and enjoying the beauty of nature that surrounded them. They were known for their kindness and hospitality, and everyone looked out for each other.
By Karthi7oct3 years ago in Fiction
The Power of a Melody
Where music heals the soul and brings hope to the broken hearted Where music brings life back into the soul Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a young prince named Max. Max was a kind and just ruler, loved by all his subjects, but he was also struggling with a broken heart. He had lost his beloved princess, who had died from a mysterious illness, and Max felt alone and lost without her.
By kulandaivel3 years ago in Fiction
Plato's Wager. Runner-Up in Time Traveler Challenge.
399 BCE. Athens, Greece. The pyre is ready. Drenched in oil, swaddled in white cloth, Archelaus’s body lays in stately rest on the funereal platform. Hundreds of Athenians watch in somber silence as a young, bearded man lifts a blazing torch above his head. Blinking back tears, he sets his jaw and lowers the flame.
By Addison Horner3 years ago in Fiction
The Great Wall Chronicles
I am a wall, a symbol of strength and determination. I am the Great Wall of China, one of the greatest architectural marvels in human history. I have seen countless generations come and go, watched as empires rose and fell, and stood as a testament to the power and resilience of the human spirit.
By Jan Jansen3 years ago in Fiction







