Memoir
THE POWER OF BECOMING
Even as a child, I carried something ,a quiet, pulsing sense that I was meant for something more. Not more in the worldly sense, but more in spirit. More depth. More meaning. More purpose. I didn’t know what to call it at the time, but I could feel it deep inside me, like a hidden seed waiting for its moment to bloom.
By Gundo March 8 months ago in Chapters
dear god… (3*)
Dear God, Thank you for gifting me a day of ease and pleasure with my new friend. I ask that you stay close to her over the coming weeks. She is standing at a crossroads between the darkness and you, and I want so much for her to choose you — to choose herself, her self-worth. She has such a big test in front of her, so much pain masked beneath many addictions, and I wish so deeply that she chooses the path to overcome them.
By Kayleigh Fraser ✨8 months ago in Chapters
Technology, society, and me
Chapter I When it all started This is not expected to be anything deep, profound, or anything like it. Since I usually write about technology news and try to add some sarcasm to make the reading a little bit lighter, today I decided to simply let my thoughts out in whatever order they choose and in any way they decide. I am writing this not as a draft but as my final unedited piece, because that’s how it’s intended to be. I will let this be a stream of consciousness and see where it leads me.
By Susan Fourtané 8 months ago in Chapters
The Lion and the Gentle Heart
A Tale of Trust Between Predator and Prey In the heart of the Great Green Jungle, where trees touched the sky and rivers sang through the land, there lived a lion named Ruhan. He was the king of the jungle, feared by all creatures. His roar made birds flee and deer tremble. Yet deep inside, Ruhan often felt a strange emptiness—he had everything, but no one he could call a true friend.
By Jack sparrow 9 months ago in Chapters
The Secret Drawer
Growing up, there was one rule in our house I never dared to break: Don’t touch the drawer in Dad’s study. It was an ordinary drawer in an old wooden desk — scratched, dusty, the handle barely hanging on. But to me, it might as well have been a vault. Dad’s tone made it clear — that drawer was off-limits.
By Straylight9 months ago in Chapters
