Series

The Precipice of Heroes
She walks alone. Blind. Numb. With one question fighting for sentience upon her quivering lips. One desperately searching, pinning, yearning thought on her mind…
By Ly Anna9 days ago in Fiction
Dhurandhar The Revenge: A Story of Pain and Justice
Some stories stay with us not because of action or drama, but because they reflect emotions we quietly carry within ourselves. Dhurandhar The Revenge feels like one of those stories. It is not just about revenge. It is about loss, silence, and the slow burning need for justice that grows when someone is pushed too far. Many people are drawn to stories like this because they explore what happens when an ordinary person faces extraordinary pain. Dhurandhar The Revenge speaks to that feeling. It raises questions about right and wrong, about patience and anger, and about how far someone can go when they have nothing left to lose. This is what makes the story meaningful and worth exploring in depth.
By Muqadas khan9 days ago in Fiction
The Pink Writer. Content Warning.
The Pink Writer: The CEO in Saddle Shoes A vignette from the girl who refused the script “It’s strange to grow up in a world that told girls to shrink,
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 9 days ago in Fiction
City of plague: A New Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 22.
A quiet story about fear, groceries, and how the internet became our lifeline. During the pandemic, Manhattan’s Chinatown felt like a city holding its breath.
By Peter9 days ago in Fiction
City of plague: A New Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 21.
A family story about distance, marriage, and the strange quiet that forced us to speak about what we had long avoided. When the pandemic arrived, it did not knock on the door politely. It barged in.
By Peter9 days ago in Fiction
That Day, I Became Someone Else. AI-Generated.
I didn’t plan to change my life that day. If anything, I was trying to hold it together. It was a gray Thursday in late October—the kind of day when the sky feels low, like it’s pressing down on the city. I remember standing on the train platform, hands in my coat pockets, watching the same crowd I had watched for years.
By Peter10 days ago in Fiction
Above From Below: Part 2
Above From Below: Part 1 Part 2 From the window of his dark, barely powered, second-floor office, Rick Steele stared into the even more dismal outdoors, a cigarette hanging from beneath his unshaven lip. The humidity in the air was thick, and Rick felt beads of sweat running down from his temples. His shirt was shadowed by sweat, even in the dimly lit office space. As he blew the smoke out of the open window, watching the drops bounce off the several inches of flood waters covering the street below, the buzzing alarm from his phone told him it was time to leave.
By The Man Behind The Mask10 days ago in Fiction
City of plague:A New Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 20.
A small farewell in New York that left a lasting sadness during the pandemic For nearly three months, COVID-19 swept through New York City like an unstoppable storm.
By Peter10 days ago in Fiction
City of plague:A New Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 19.
In the Chinese lunar calendar, the first day of the fourth month is my birthday. Birthdays are strange things. They mark the beginning of a life, a moment that seems enormously important—yet none of us ever choose it. It simply arrives, quietly deciding the starting point of our existence.
By Peter10 days ago in Fiction
Fear Controlled Me for Years — Until That Day. AI-Generated.
I didn’t know when fear first moved in. It didn’t arrive like a storm. There was no dramatic entrance, no single moment I could point to and say, that’s when it began. It came quietly—like a draft through a window you forgot to close.
By Peter11 days ago in Fiction
I Stopped Waiting for Opportunity — I Started Creating It. AI-Generated.
I used to believe in timing. Not in the mystical, poetic way people write about in books, but in the practical, almost superstitious way that keeps you still. I believed the right moment would come, like a train pulling into a station—predictable, inevitable, meant for me.
By Peter11 days ago in Fiction
City of plague:A New Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 18.
One evening, my phone rang unexpectedly. The caller ID showed the name Mr. Li, president of the Southern Hometown Association. I knew him well. He was a respected figure in the Chinese community—calm, thoughtful, and never someone who called without a reason.
By Peter11 days ago in Fiction