Love
Tranquility of the heart and mind
The stillness that settled in the aftermath of your departure was not a void, but a canvas. Twenty-five years, woven with the vibrant threads of our shared existence, had painted a masterpiece. Now, with your colors no longer beside mine, I found a strange peace in the quiet hues that remained. It wasn't an absence of feeling, but a profound acceptance, a gentle hum beneath the surface of my being. The maker, in His infinite wisdom, had called you home, and though my heart ached with the echo of your laughter, it also resonated with the deep, abiding tranquility that your memory bestowed.
By Vera Myles3 days ago in Fiction
Belle of the Bayou. Top Story - February 2026.
Bad move, cher. Not just the slip of her kitten heel on the rainy February cobblestones in the Fourth Ward. She got caught snooping. Detective Deleon clucked and strutted like a rooster in his rush to clear her from the scene, waving cigar smoke to and fro as he gesticulated amid the thick air of the speak easy. An experienced crime reporter, Marie knew better than to let the coppers catch her on the wrong side of the line, but curiosity had gotten the better of her.
By Maia Gadwall the metAlchemist3 days ago in Fiction
The Frequency of Solitude
The silence of the Cascade Mountains was not an absence of sound; it was a heavy, living thing. It was the groan of ancient ponderosa pines leaning against the wind, the distant, crystalline shatter of glacial meltwater, and the overwhelming hum of sheer, terrifying vastness.
By Alpha Cortex4 days ago in Fiction
The Clockwork Orchard
The city of Oakhaven was a marvel of Victorian engineering and absolute, stifling order. Here, the sky was permanently bruised by the soot of the Great Furnace, and every citizen lived by the relentless rhythm of the Chronos Tower. In Oakhaven, time was not just a measurement; it was a currency, a religion, and a cage.
By Alpha Cortex4 days ago in Fiction
INTERVIEW WITH A HOOKER (3)
“Honey, I wasn’t thinking of ending our conversation; I’m really enjoying it. However, every time I make the slightest move, the bartender has to pick his tongue up off the counter and I can just imagine, from the expressions on the men’s faces behind me that I see in the mirror, what’s going through their little minds. I like you; you’re somewhat like Cool Hands—not your looks—the way you come across—I feel I can trust you. Since the night is still young, if you don’t mind, I thought we could go someplace more private.
By Len Sherman4 days ago in Fiction
THE MAN WHO COULD WORK MIRACLES
George McWhirter Fotheringay was not the kind of man anyone would expect to possess miraculous powers. He was small, with bright red hair, freckles, sharp brown eyes, and a habit of twisting the ends of his moustache when arguing. He worked as a clerk at Gomshott’s and enjoyed proving people wrong. Until the age of thirty, he did not believe in miracles at all. In fact, he strongly argued that miracles were impossible. His strange discovery happened one evening while he was debating the subject in the bar of the Long Dragon.
By Faisal Khan5 days ago in Fiction
Did The Tarot Cards Predict Love?
Did The Tarot Cards Predict Love? In a quiet village, where the moonlight draped softly over cobblestone paths, there lived a woman named Clara. She found peace in a small garden, surrounded by fragrant blooms, a sanctuary where she could listen to the whispers of her heart.
By Marie381Uk 5 days ago in Fiction
Raindrops and Stolen Glances
The city smelled of wet asphalt and blooming jasmine. Raindrops tapped rhythmically against the café window where Mr. Goggles sat, scribbling in his notebook. He had been coming here for weeks, drawn by the aroma of strong coffee and the soft hum of jazz, but today was different. Today, she walked in.
By Imran Pisani6 days ago in Fiction
