Script

The Clockmaker’s Gift
In a small cobblestoned town in the middle of two green hills lived an old clockmaker, Elias Thorn. His workshop, tucked at the corner of Willow Street, was a symphony of crushing sounds - hundreds of clocks, ticking with a life of their own.
By Nusuki4 months ago in Fiction
The Last Letter
The train was then long gone from the station, but Ava was still standing, still holding old, yellowed envelope in her fingers. The paper was soft from being opened and folded too many times. The words inside had faded, but she didn't even need to read them anymore - she knew them by heart.
By Nusuki4 months ago in Fiction
The Moon and the Burning Forest
The world was ending in orange and ash. The ancient forest of Elmswood, a kingdom of oak and pine that had stood for a thousand years, was screaming. A careless spark from a forgotten campfire had become a ravenous beast, consuming everything in its path. The air was a solid, hot wall of smoke, and the roar of the flames was the only sound, a hungry, relentless god.
By Habibullah4 months ago in Fiction
The Voice in the Static
It was quiet, too quiet for the middle of a warehouse parking lot. Kareem adjusted the old two-way radio on the security booth desk. The hum of the fluorescent light overhead was steady, almost soothing, but the static on the line crackled sharply in the silence.
By Kismat M4 months ago in Fiction
The Call of the Minaret
The early sun had just started to rise from behind the house tops of Medina when Bilal woke up. The air was still cool and heavy with the smell of sand and date palms. For a moment, he listened to the faint sounds of the city waking -- the distant bleating of goats, the clatter of water pots and the quiet hum of life returning after the silence of the night.
By Nusuki4 months ago in Fiction
The Light of the Desert
And the wind sang along the dunes, and Malik took a brush against his shabby cloak, and the desert sand was like tiny sparks on his face. This was hours of walking on part of him, in pursuit of the horizon that kept on pushing away. The sun was now setting, and coloured the sky with fire and gold.
By Nusuki4 months ago in Fiction
The Light of the Desert: The Story of Bilal ibn Rabah (RA)
Heavy with the sun, with its rays scorching the desert into an oven of light and heat, the sun stood over Mecca. In a small corner near the Kaaba, a man was lying on the ground chained to the burning sand, his back raw from the whip, his lips dry and cracked. Each inhalation was punctuated by pain but from his shaking lips was uttered a word that would not die.
By Nusuki4 months ago in Fiction
JETT THE DRAXXION
There was once a weak boy named Jett, who was often insulted because of his skinny and fragile body. His classmates mocked and bullied him constantly. Although the anger built up inside him, Jett didn’t know how to respond. He endured the humiliation silently but always wished that one day, if he ever gained power, he would make those who tormented him regret their actions.
By ikechukwu michael4 months ago in Fiction
Moon’s Gift to the Blind Girl
Elara’s world was not dark. People called her blind, but that was their word, born from their own fear of the absence of light. Her world was built of sound and scent and texture. The rough bark of the old oak was a story of strength. The scent of rain on dry earth was a complex symphony. But the one thing that remained an abstract concept was the Moon.
By Habibullah4 months ago in Fiction
A Message Written in Moon Dust
Dr. Aris Thorne was a geologist, a woman of rock and reason. The first human mission to the lunar farside was her life's work. As her lander settled into the dust of the Mendeleev Basin, a place of eternal Earth-shadow, her heart beat with a purely scientific thrill. She was here to read the moon's oldest stories, written in stone.
By Habibullah4 months ago in Fiction
Corporate Games
They stepped into the elevator like strangers—Richard “Dick” Garner with his polished detachment, Barbara “Barb” Collins trailing mascara and pride. The doors sealed behind them, and with one press of the lobby button, the descent began.
By Lee Kolinsky4 months ago in Fiction
Stand Up Guy. Content Warning.
Angelo Martenetti stood outside his West Side music studio, sunlight glinting off the chrome of his Rolex as he flipped through a contract. Vinny, his ever-present bodyguard, loomed nearby like a silent shadow.
By Lee Kolinsky4 months ago in Fiction