Short Story
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '21
Emily, eager to contribute, pulled up a shared document and began scrolling through the tentative itinerary, pointing out that the chosen banquet hall had a garden that would be perfect for a sunset cocktail hour. As they debated décor themes and music playlists, the Zoom call buzzed with excitement, each suggestion building a vivid picture of the night they all hoped would recapture the spirit of their teenage years.
By Forest Green2 days ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '21
The conversation then turned to the emotional undercurrents that a reunion inevitably brings, a topic that both Megan and Joan approached with a mixture of anticipation and gentle trepidation. “I’m a little nervous about how some of our classmates have changed,” Megan admitted, her voice softening. “Will we still click? Will the old jokes still land?” Joan placed a reassuring hand on her own heart, as if to convey solidarity across the digital divide, and responded, “I think the core of who we are remains the same; we just need to be open, listen, and let the evening unfold naturally. And if anyone feels out of place, we can be the anchors that bring them back into the circle.” Their mutual understanding of the delicate balance between nostalgia and present‑day realities underscored the depth of their friendship, a bond capable of guiding them through both logistical challenges and emotional terrain.
By Forest Green2 days ago in Fiction
All the children
Alice a child who is just getting to know herself and how to make friends is a little girl who likes to read and write and play outside. One day she and her mother went to the park. Her mother knew what the first thing that Alice wanted to do there and wouldn't you know it right to the sandbox she went. What is it about the sandbox? Is it the sand and the digging around in it or what? Alice likes to make towers and on this day another child came by the name of
By Mark Graham2 days ago in Fiction
Like The Ashes of Lanterns on the Wind
One of the problems with living in the swamp is that there is no horizon. The other is the random appearance of the wisps. The lantern’s glow reminded me of the little pests, each a lantern unto itself. Sometimes, like tonight, they would cover the swamp. Like people, there were many types of wisps, and the problem was figuring out which were which, especially given how identical the flames were to each other. If you followed the right ones, you could become a richer person, but if you followed the wrong ones, you could become as ashes in the wind.
By Jamais Jochim2 days ago in Fiction
How the Protestant Work Ethic Rewired Global Capitalism
In the early 1500s, most people in Europe lived simple lives. Farmers worked on land owned by nobles. Craftsmen made goods by hand. Merchants traded in local markets. Life moved slowly, and money was not the center of everything.
By JAMES NECK 3 days ago in Fiction
I Had Already Given Up… But Then Something Unexpected Happened
From the outside, nothing looked too bad. I had a roof over my head, a few people around me, and dreams that once gave me purpose. But inside… it was a completely different story. I was tired. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally exhausted. I had tried so many times to improve my life. I made plans, set goals, and promised myself that “this time will be different.” But every time I tried, something went wrong. Either I failed, or things didn’t go as expected. Slowly, those failures started building a wall inside me—a wall made of doubt, fear, and disappointment. At first, I kept fighting. I told myself that failure is part of success. I watched motivational videos, read quotes, and forced myself to stay positive. But the truth is… there is a limit to how much a person can pretend to be strong. And one day, I reached that limit. I stopped trying. I stopped setting goals. I stopped dreaming. I stopped believing that anything good could happen to me. Days became empty. I would wake up without purpose and go to sleep without hope. Life felt like a routine I was forced to follow, not something I wanted to live. One night, I remember sitting alone in my room. The lights were off, and the silence felt heavy. I kept staring at the ceiling, lost in my thoughts. A question kept repeating in my mind: “What’s the point of trying if I’m just going to fail again?” For the first time, I didn’t have an answer. That night, I silently gave up—not just on my goals, but on myself. The next morning, I woke up late. I had no plans, no motivation, and no reason to get out of bed. I picked up my phone just to pass time, scrolling mindlessly. And then, I saw something unexpected. A message. It was from an old friend I hadn’t talked to in months. The message was simple: “Hey… I don’t know why, but I just felt like telling you this. I believe in you. Don’t give up.” That was it. No long speech. No deep advice. Just a few words. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I even smiled a little, thinking it was random. But as I kept staring at those words, something inside me shifted. “I believe in you.” It had been a long time since I heard that. And even longer since I said that to myself. For months, I had been my own biggest critic. I kept reminding myself of my failures, my mistakes, and everything that went wrong. But I never once reminded myself of my efforts… or my potential. That small message didn’t magically fix my life. My problems were still there. My situation hadn’t changed overnight. But something else changed. My perspective. For the first time in a long time, I thought… “What if I try again? Just one more time?” Not perfectly. Not confidently. Just… honestly. So I started small. The next day, I woke up a little earlier. Not 5 AM like those perfect routines—but earlier than usual. I did one small productive task. It wasn’t much, but it was something. The day after that, I did a little more. Some days were still hard. Some days I felt the same heaviness, the same doubt creeping back in. There were moments when I wanted to quit again. But this time, I didn’t. Because now, I had a different mindset. I wasn’t trying to be perfect. I was just trying to not give up. Weeks passed, and slowly, things began to change. Not dramatically—but noticeably. I became more focused. My thoughts became clearer. I started feeling a little more in control of my life. Opportunities didn’t suddenly fall into my lap, but I started noticing them again. And one day, while reflecting on my journey, I realized something powerful: I wasn’t stuck because I failed. I was stuck because I stopped trying. Failure didn’t destroy me. Giving up did. That one message from my friend didn’t change my life directly. But it reminded me of something I had forgotten—that even in the darkest moments, there is always a small chance to start again. And sometimes, that’s all you need. A small reminder. A small step. A small decision to try again.
By Tawseef Aziz3 days ago in Fiction
Adrian and the Diary
Link to the Challenge: Dear Diary, Well, here we are. I've managed to finally find a way to get my beloved Pandora to be a part of my life. The clinic has said that it was just a temporary breakdown and she needs all the attention I can bestow, so I am technically a part of her life again. No sign of her ex after the news reported on their last spat (it must be nice to have your own plane, a government that looks the other way, and several hidden bank accounts...for now).
By Kendall Defoe 3 days ago in Fiction
Roll Those Eyes, Lads
Roll Those Eyes, Lads It started, as most trouble does, with a look, not a long one, not even a bold one, just a quick turn of the head as she walked past, heels steady, head high, carrying herself like she knew exactly who she was. Tom should have known better, but the pub had that easy evening feel, quiet chatter, glasses clinking, nothing hinting at trouble. His mate gave him a nudge, that silent kind that says go on then, and without thinking too much about it, Tom did.
By George’s Girl 2026 3 days ago in Fiction
