Satire

The Chicken Who Ran for Mayor
Part I: Trouble at Cluckin’ Pines The town of Cluckin’ Pines had one gas station, two stop signs, and exactly zero reasons to ever make the news. Until the chicken ran for mayor.
By Hikmat8 months ago in Fiction
The mirror of the second chances
A cold breeze danced through the cracks of the abandoned cottage as Maya brushed dust from the old mirror. It had been years since anyone had set foot inside. The house belonged to her grandmother, a woman known in the village for strange tales and stranger antiques. Now, after her passing, Maya had returned—not to reclaim her inheritance, but to find a part of herself that she'd lost along the way.
By Shehzad khan8 months ago in Fiction
The Lie That Cost Everything
Boredom is a dangerous thing—especially when you’re young and craving attention. A young boy in a quiet village spent each day watching sheep on a grassy hill. It was peaceful work, but dull. No one to talk to, nothing exciting ever happened. The sheep just ate, wandered, and occasionally made noise. Every day looked the same.
By Noor 8 months ago in Fiction
Reality is a matter of perspective
Everyone knows the famous image: two people looking at a number on the ground — one sees a “6”, the other sees a “9". Who is right?
By Bozhan Bozhkov8 months ago in Fiction
The Day Kindness Paid for Coffee
It Began with Rain and a Stranger The sky wept softly that morning — a silver curtain of rain falling over the quiet city.
By Shafi Ullah Darwesh8 months ago in Fiction
The Last War We Almost Fought
The Last War We Almost Fought My grandfather used to tell me stories about war. He fought in one. Lost friends in another. And spent the rest of his life hoping we’d never see another one again.
By Shafi Ullah Darwesh8 months ago in Fiction
The Girl Behind the Door
1. The Whispering House In the overlooked town of Elmbrook—where the wind murmured like a overlooked bedtime song and the crows roosted like prophets—stood an ancient, exhausted house. It had no title, but everybody called it The Wilt House. Children strolled quicker close it; older folks whispered supplications; and those who had once challenged to trespass carried their hush like a mystery curse.
By Muhammad Abdullah8 months ago in Fiction
The Last Phone Call
The Last Phone Call Some calls aren't meant to be answered. By Darwesh The phone rang at 1:47 a.m.
By Shafi Ullah Darwesh8 months ago in Fiction
My Grandmother’s Mirror Only Reflects the Dead
The Mirror’s First Secret I almost sold the mirror the day after Grandma Lillian’s funeral. It was an ugly thing—a heavy oak frame carved with twisting vines, the glass smoky with age. But Mom insisted: "She wanted you to have it. Said it was special."
By MUHAMMAD Abbas8 months ago in Fiction
The Godfather: How to Be a Gentleman the Italian Way . Content Warning.
Welcome to "The Godfather": the book your dad said was too violent, your boss keeps under his desk, and your ex-boyfriend calls his personal Bible. This isn’t just a novel; it’s a survival manual for dysfunctional workplaces, broken families, and underwhelming dinner parties.
By 完颜公子8 months ago in Fiction
James” by Percival Everett: A Bold Reclamation of the American Canon
In James, Percival Everett does what few living authors dare—he takes a towering classic of American literature and flips it inside out. The result is nothing short of electrifying. A radical reimagining of Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Everett centers the story not on Huck, the mischievous boy narrator, but on Jim, the enslaved man whose humanity Twain only hinted at.
By Hamad Haider8 months ago in Fiction
The Slave Who Knew the Stars
Once upon a time, in the ancient kingdom of Zaheerabad, nestled between black mountains and golden deserts, lived a Prince named Kamraan, son of the mighty King Ubaid. The Prince was fair in face and feared in sword, taught in the philosophies of men but untouched by the lives of those beneath him. The palace was carved from marble, adorned with silk and mirrors, but behind its glistening curtains brewed storms invisible to the blind.
By Muhammad Abdullah8 months ago in Fiction