Young Adult
Guard Your Battery, Lose Your Humanity
I used to think my phone was my lifeline. In Amsterdam, where rain slicks the cobblestones and bikes fly by like they're late for something important, my screen was the one constant: notifications buzzing through tram rides, endless scrolls while waiting for koffie at a brown café, quick checks at red lights on the Keizersgracht. It felt safe. Controlled. Connected. Until it didn't. By early 2026, I was exhausted in a way sleep couldn't fix. My anxiety had crept up quietly — heart racing in crowds, that low hum of dread when the battery dipped below 20%. I blamed the city, the weather, work. But deep down, I knew the truth: I'd outsourced my presence to a rectangle in my pocket. I was here, but never really here. So on a drizzly February morning, I made a rule that felt ridiculous: no phone in public for 30 days. Pocket, bag, or leave it at home — but never in hand when outside my apartment. If I needed directions or music, tough. The goal wasn't total detox; it was forcing myself to look up, be bored, and — if the moment felt right — talk to someone. One stranger conversation a day if it happened naturally. No forcing, just availability. What broke first was the fidgeting. Days 1–10: The Withdrawal Hits Hard The first week was brutal. At the Albert Cuyp Market, my hand kept reaching for my pocket like a phantom limb. Without the screen to hide behind, every line felt exposed. I noticed things I'd ignored for years: the way an old man feeds pigeons near the Nieuwmarkt, the precise rhythm of bike bells, the smell of fresh stroopwafels mixing with canal water. I also noticed people. Everyone else was doing what I'd been doing — heads down, thumbs moving. On the 2 tram toward Centraal, a carriage full of silent faces lit by blue light. No one spoke. No one looked up. It hit me: we're all in our own little bubbles, floating through the same beautiful city. By day 5, boredom turned into restlessness. Waiting for coffee at a spot on the Prinsengracht, I had nothing to do but watch. A woman in a red coat struggled with her umbrella in the wind. Our eyes met. She laughed first. "This weather," she said. I replied, "It builds character, right?" We chatted for two minutes about nothing — the rain, the best waterproof jackets. It felt awkward, electric, alive. That tiny exchange cracked something open. My anxiety didn't vanish, but it lost its grip for a moment. Days 11–20: The City Starts Talking Back Halfway through, the experiment shifted from punishment to curiosity.
By Shoaib Afridi25 days ago in Fiction
Door of Secrets
I knew the moment I touched the handle that I wasn’t supposed to open that door. The hallway was silent. Too silent. The old house had many rooms, but this door was different from the others. It stood at the very end of the corridor, hidden behind a faded curtain like something the house itself was trying to forget.
By imtiazalam26 days ago in Fiction
My Pen is
My Peace is My Pen Arguing happens again, the police at the door making reports of domestic abuse. Screams can be heard down the alley from my bedroom window. Gunshots ricochet from the bricks of my home, on the floor we sleep. We wake to see the damage, blood spilled in the streets where we played. Let’s see who can catch this football in the vacant lot of a church that supplied the neighborhood with supplies such as clothing and food. The neighbors running trap houses as kids wait for seven o’clock to hear Mr. Frostee tunes blaring from around the corner. I can remember begging for dollars from the locals just for a vanilla soft served cone. My mother always liked hers dipped. We get ready for dinner, another soulful meal prepared by the man and woman that loved us.
By Charelle Landers27 days ago in Fiction
The Room Still Smells Like You: Letting Go After Heartbreak
It had been three months since he left, three months since the door clicked shut behind him for the last time. And yet, the apartment still smelled like him—cologne, faintly floral, a trace of coffee and early morning sunlight. She breathed it in, each inhalation a knife pressed gently against her chest.
By Ihsanullah27 days ago in Fiction
Inside Rebels
Mr. Harrow collected the exams, his face a mask of indifference that barely concealed a flicker of curiosity. As you walked past his desk, Elena whispered, “Whatever happens, we did our best.” You nodded, the seriousness of the journey still heavy, but a quiet pride settled in your chest. When the results were posted, you found your name at the top of the list, a bright red “A+” staring back, while Mr. Harrow’s reaction was a barely perceptible pause—an involuntary moment of recognition that you had, against all odds, outperformed his expectations.
By Forest Green28 days ago in Fiction
Inside Rebels
You stared at the chalk‑dusted blackboard, the harsh scrape of the marker echoing the teacher’s voice as it cut through the quiet of the classroom, and you felt the weight of every syllable settling like a stone on your shoulders. It was Mr. Harrow, the man whose reputation for cruelty preceded him, and you and your partner, Elena, had already learned to keep your heads down when he entered the room. “If you cannot answer the question, you are simply unworthy of learning,” he had snarled, his eyes flicking between you as if searching for a crack in your resolve. The air grew colder, and you sensed Elena’s trembling hand brush against the edge of the desk, a subtle reminder that you were not alone in the mounting dread.
By Forest Green28 days ago in Fiction
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms Review – Small Stakes, Strong Impact
As one of the most celebrated fantasy universes ever created, A Song of Ice and Fire continues to command a loyal global audience. After diving deep into Targaryen history with House of the Dragon, the franchise now pivots to something more intimate. A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms trades dragons and dynastic wars for a grounded, character-driven journey—and the result is surprisingly refreshing.
By Fawad Ahmad29 days ago in Fiction
The Blue Circle of Love. AI-Generated.
Chapter 1: The Drop The cargo plane flew low over Erangel, growling like an old beast forced to keep flying long after it should have retired. Cabin lights trembled, reflecting off helmets and tactical vests. Some passengers sat in silence. Some stared blankly at the steel floor. Others studied folded maps they already knew by memory. Just another online game with the same play and the same vibe, but way too advance like and online game app. But today something really is different, something that could shake the entire game platform.
By Luke Dreayry29 days ago in Fiction
