Microfiction
The Cinder’s Weight
The hearth has stopped its singing.white-ribbed and glowing with a soft, pulsing ache. I am watching the last flame— a tiny, blue-tongued ghost licking the underside of a charred knot. It is fragile, a translucent ribbon fraying against the weight of the coming dark. There is a specific silence that lives here For hours, it was a roar of gold and defiance, consuming the dry cedar of our history, the splinters of every word we ever threw into the heat to keep the room alive. But the wood is spent now. The logs have collapsed into a skeletal geography,
By Awa Nyassi3 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Vanished at the Bus Stop:. AI-Generated.
It was just another midnight at the bus stop. The air was heavy with the scent of rain, the streetlight above flickered as if struggling to stay alive, and the crowd around me seemed as ordinary as ever. Students with backpacks, office workers scrolling through their phones, and a few faces staring blankly into the distance. Nothing in that moment suggested it would turn into a story I would never forget.
By The Writer...A_Awan3 months ago in Fiction
