Clouds cover the skies,

Rain pulls at your eyes,

But nothing hurts as much

As little words turned lies.

They came like petals, soft and light,

Whispers in the hush of night,

Promising the kind of truth

That even silence dared not fight.

You held them close, you let them bloom,

Wove them into every room

Your breath, your skin, your hopeful spine,

Not knowing rot would come in time.

Clouds cover ...

Margaret sobbed. She wasn’t prepared for this.

How could she be?

Just yesterday, a letter had been delivered to every author's home across the country. It was brief, but horrifyingly clear:

"Greetings, writers.

This letter has been sent to you by superior forces to inform you that, by June 9th, you will all be detained and sent into the story of your very first novel. You will be required to surv...

She must have been in her fifties, you could tell by the ridges etched deep into the skin of her hands, like soft canyons carved by time. They were a warm olive tone, sun-kissed and weathered, bearing the memory of countless days lived beneath open skies.

Each finger wore a chunky gold ring, none matching, yet all belonging. Treasures gathered from distant cities, sunlit bazaars, forgotten side s...

It was a calm afternoon. Chiara's parents were busy cooking dinner, not knowing about her mission. The 9-year-old discreetly snuck out of the front door, through the garden, and into the forest facing their house. Thankfully, she wasn't alone. Chiara had taken her best friend. A big, furry stuffed bunny with a blue bow around its neck that read: Bunbun.

They followed a secret path only Chiara kne...

The cookie jar at Grandma’s house was always on the same shelf, blue ceramic, shaped like a cat, with a crack by the left ear. When it vanished one Sunday morning, no one batted an eye.

“Probably broke,” Uncle James shrugged.

“Grandma’s always moving stuff around,” Aunt Rae added.

But I knew better.

That jar didn’t hold cookies.

It held the key.

Not a metaphorical one, either. A real, cold, t...

The crowd buzzed with excitement at the Valleywide Invention Tournament. It was the final round, and twelve-year-old Maeva Lin stood across from her rival, Edgar Trumbull. His sleek exosuit flexed its mechanical limbs; hers was a small wooden box with copper coils, quietly humming.

Edgar smirked. “Hope yours doesn’t catch fire this time.”

Maeva said nothing. Her invention, built from a design sh...

Rare are those who believe me when I say I met the devil.

Inexistent are those who believe he asked for my soul.

Yet both are true.

It was after my first casting. I wanted to be an actress—I still do. I was on my bedroom floor, knees pressing into the carpet, praying to God that I’d get the role.

But it wasn’t God who appeared.

A shadow stepped into the room, faceless, shifting, as if it weren’...

Ding ding ding. The bell at the counter is ringing. "Hurry up ive been waiting for ages" the lady at the other end of the cafe is whining. "Order number 56!' the co-workers are screaming. 'Hurry up all of you' the manager is angry. The coffee machines are all bubbling. click click click the clock at the door is ticking. The ingredient containers are popping. The footsteps were rumbling.

Everythin...

🫀 Heart (softly):

"I'm tired of breaking in silence. I beat for love, but lately... I just echo the ache."

🧠 Brain (with a tremble):

"I try to carry the weight. The thoughts, the doubts, the memories that don’t stop knocking. I am so full... and still feel hollow."

🌬️ Lungs:

"Sometimes I breathe in sadness so thick it sticks to my walls. I exhale hope, but it escapes like smoke."

👁 Eyes:

"I...

'They are the enemies. We are the heroes'

'We are not stealing their lands. We are taking what is ours'

'We are conquerers.'

'Kill them all'

So were the affirmations that our sergeants drilled into our heads every day before battle. I believed them. I always had.

But now in the middle of the burning village, still tightly grasping my gun, I watched as a little girl lost her life in front of me...