Script
Why Not Science. Content Warning.
This was a 48-hour project. I lived in Austin & South Texas for 13 years. My friend in Austin texted me about the tyranny and theocracy that has taken over his state. THIS IS A FICTION STORY! I CREATED ALL THE CHARACTERS, METAPHORES IN THE VIDEO, AND NEEDED TO SAY THIS!
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 10 months ago in Fiction
Death or Love. Content Warning.
Under the burning twilight of a kingdom falling into chaos, a lone warrior named Ean strode through a scarred battlefield. His eyes, filled with fierce resolve, mirrored the raw intensity of his spirit—a spirit that had chosen the honorable death of fighting for a dream over the lingering pain of love.
By Edge Alexander10 months ago in Fiction
The Firefly That Never Dies
Every summer, the people of Durgapur spoke of the never-dying firefly. Even in the heaviest downpours, it danced just above the paddy fields and glowed brighter than the moon. It was thought to be the spirit of a long-dead saint who looked after the land, blessed the crops, and punished those who broke the rules.
By Ahmed Rayhan10 months ago in Fiction
She Was Everything I Thought the Lady in Red Could Be
I consider myself a pretty logical person most of the time, I trust reason, facts, and the kind of clarity that can only come from stepping back and assessing a situation from every angle. But recently, I found myself in a position where logic could ruin something… something beautiful. And that’s a terrifying thought. Because logic, for all its comfort and certainty, can’t always see the bigger picture.
By Ruth Girma 10 months ago in Fiction
Static in the Signal
It started with a flicker. A blinking cursor. A screen that wouldn’t load. Jamie slammed his laptop shut like it had betrayed him — again. Third time this week. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face, feeling the texture of another sleepless night creeping into his skin.
By Ahmed Rayhan10 months ago in Fiction
Lemonade Skies
The first thing Ava noticed when she stepped off the bus was the smell of lemons. Not strong, not artificial — just faint enough to feel real. The kind of scent that danced through the summer breeze and reminded her of freedom, even if she hadn’t felt it in a long time.
By Esther Sun10 months ago in Fiction
The Drawing of My Life
When I was a child, I believed that pencils held magic. Not the kind of magic that turned frogs into princes or moved mountains—but the quiet kind. The kind that turned thoughts into pictures, emotions into shapes, and silence into color. I didn’t speak much as a kid. While other children chased each other on the playground or shouted answers in class, I sat in the corner of my own world, sketching stick figures and stars on the backs of my notebooks.
By Esther Sun10 months ago in Fiction
The Bookstore Where Our Eyes First Spoke
The old bookstore on Elm Street was supposed to be torn down by spring. It smelled like dusty paper and warm cinnamon, with creaky wooden floors that whispered with every step. Leah had wandered in on a rainy Tuesday, hoping to kill time. She wasn’t expecting to find the last piece of her heart between the pages of a book—or in someone else’s eyes.
By The Waiting Tree10 months ago in Fiction
A Portrait of Silent Love
Deep within the heart of a dense forest, far from the reach of wandering eyes and sunlit paths, bloomed a wildflower. She wasn’t a flower of renown—no dazzling colors, no intoxicating fragrance. And yet, she was a symbol of silent beauty, a creation of nature that only solitude could nurture.
By Sadia Afrin10 months ago in Fiction
