Poetic Stories

"You don't build a future in a town you're passing through, Harry," she replied, her voice barely steady. "I'm not passing through." "You always are." Harry Styles was a man defined by the exit sign. Between the sold-out stadiums, the hazy recording studios, and a life lived through a tour bus window and private jet, he was a ghost in motion. He was the man who left; she was the one who stayed behind, rooted in the hills of Arezzo like the perennials in her garden, blooming in a cycle he never stayed long enough to see. . Exhausted by the glare of fame, Harry retreats to a quiet town on the outskirts of Arezzo, seeking refuge from the expectations that have defined his life. In a modest house with a serene, vibrant garden, he rediscovers stillness and simplicity, finding comfort in small routines and the quiet rhythm of daily life. But even in this hidden corner of Tuscany, human connection finds a way in, stirring curiosity, trust, and the gentle possibility of something more.

Mercy is easier when the world isn't starving. if survival demands cruelty everytime, then what actually survives? The world did not end with fire. It ended with petals that can pierce flesh. Power does not corrupt the heart, it merely removes the the curtains hiding it Even the purest flower drinks from graves beneath its soil. Do everything can be a miracle gifted by the nature? Or merely a curse? Hope is a candle that survives by teaching itself how to burn slowly. Let us ponder in a world where a garden does not ask permission before it devours the ruin beneath it. ----------------------------------------------------------------- [ IMPORTANT NOTICE: "Some" parts of this story is written in a poetic and philosophical style. Some dialogues, symbols, and meanings may not be immediately understood, as they are to be felt as much as they are read. The world within these pages speaks in silence, metaphors(some), and emotion. Interpretations may differ from person to person - and that is part of the story itself. Read slowly. The garden does not bloom for hurried eyes] ---------------------------------------------------------------- [Warning: This story contains violence, grief, and moments of human cruelty. Not all wounds in this world are made by monsters.] ----------------------------------------------------------------- Author's Note: This story was born from silence, ruin, and the strange beauty of survival. Thank you for stepping into the garden. -----------------------------------------------------------------

A glorious kingdom guarded by divine Angels is in dire need of a suitable ruler. Left with no choice but to consider a matriarchy, the heavenly guardians choose the merciless warrior, Princess Vanya, as the ultimate blade to the highest Angel, Andreas. Crowned to be Angelia's true king, Vanya is later plagued with a grave dilemma: Give up the throne she always desired, or ask for help from her berserker Elrodian husband to save her bleeding kingdom. Elrodia is a kingdom of fire and embers, built by the sweat and tears of war-goblins and brutal gremlins. It is destined to be ruled by the most ruthless barbarian of all: King James Roman, a heartless, untamed beast who longs for one thing and one thing only: power. The rugged Elrodian king is run down with a sickness; a love that overtakes his tyrant heart, demanding he sacrifice his own golden glory to be granted the impossible affections of his very own enchantress. How could the two powerful warriors save a royal union that is cursed by the great Andreas himself? F.L.A.R.E 3RD PLACE WINNER IN BEST FANTASY. DE ARMOIRE AWARDS RUNNER UP. STRONG FEMALE CHARACTER MINI AWARDS IN THE ROGUE MUSE AWARDS. *This is a story of battle, mild/moderate mentions of blood and violence are to be expected. Read at your own discretion. For the complete experience of this world I created, kindly search for the playlist named 'Angelia' On Spotify. *Currently undergoing some heavy editing.

A YEAR OF FRIENDSHIP WORTH MORE THAN DECADE

Some stories begin with a moment. This one began with a thousand little things. Elara never expected anything extraordinary from an ordinary life. There were studies to worry about, expectations to live up to, friendships that came and went, and a heart she was still learning to understand. Then there was him. Not someone she was looking for. Not someone she was supposed to fall for. Just someone who happened to be there. Somewhere between ordinary conversations, familiar silences, beautiful handwriting, music, and moments that seemed insignificant at the time, something changed. But not every feeling becomes a relationship. Some stories live in the space between *what happened* and *what could have happened.* Between *yes* and *no.* Between *never* and *almost.* And years later, Elara finds herself asking the question she never knew how to answer: What do you do with a person who became a part of your story, even though they were never meant to stay until the end? Maybe some people aren't meant to be your forever. Maybe they're meant to become a chapter you carry differently. This is a story about growing up, loving quietly, losing possibilities, and learning that remembering someone doesn't always mean belonging to the memory of them. **This is the formula for almost.**

Every night, she dreams of a house she has never seen. But when fragments of her dreams begin bleeding into reality, she is forced to confront a past her mind has buried. Some places are forgotten. Some people are lost. And some memories refuse to die. Hiraeth: the ache for a home, a person, or a life you can no longer return to.

Tahno x OC | ♡₊˚

Mi alma en letras.

There was a chaotic girl, lost in the world of endless desert. She lost everything she could but built her life from cracked bricks of stealing. She was getting better and someone used it- one day she stole from the wrong man...or... maybe the correct one? It was as unfortunate and as beautiful as if the gods made this move for them. Though times are hard she remains in this chaos while dreaming of true connection and peace. And he... Suddenly catches her. Book: Slowburn , Enemies (they cannot really allow themselves to love each other but they do. A really strong friendship grows beneath that hate.), With Psychological and cosmological points of view on emotions. In this story you will find out what it is like to fall into a spider's web. ~(°-°~) ·•Good book•· If you wanna contact us -write it here: Tt: Arachno.world ig: arachnoworld_book (For your lovely information this book is written Not in a specific type of book, but more like a script for a " to watch" series. If it gets popular maybe we would find sponsorship to make it an animation or serial. This is the first part ArachnoWolrd of two)

[Winner of the Special Poem Category & 3rd Best Prose Poem in the Summer Poetry Awards] Tides of the Soul is a poetic, reflective novel about healing, self-discovery, and learning to let go of what no longer serves us. Just like the tides that carry away the old to bring in the new. Life moves like the ocean, always shifting, always changing. We hold on to pain like stones in our pockets, weigh ourselves down with the ghosts of what could have been, and let the past pull us under like an unforgiving current. But what if we chose to surrender? What if we let the waves cleanse us, let the tide carry away our burdens, and trusted that what is meant for us will always return? Through lyrical prose and deep introspection, Tides of the Soul takes you on a journey of release, acceptance, and renewal. A story of breaking free from the weight of yesterday and learning to embrace the ebb and flow of life. Like the ocean, we are meant to move, to change, to let go. And maybe, just maybe, we are meant to be free. #1 in SOULFUL #5 in INSPIRATIONAL

A girl with many dreams, seeks for freedom only to find her true self. Destiny decide to give her a chance of finding herself, with a little help from someone. There will be a day where she accepts herself.

Some wounds never show on the skin. Grace carries hers quietly. The past has left pieces of her life scattered behind her memories she cannot escape, losses she cannot undo, and nights when simply getting through the next morning feels like too much to ask. She has learned to keep her distance, to swallow the words that tremble at the back of her throat, and to let the world mistake her silence for strength. Then she meets someone who refuses to look away. Iris is nothing like her, where she retreats, he reaches closer; where she leaves questions unanswered, he waits. Their conversations begin with hesitation, linger longer than they should, and leave behind a tension neither of them knows what to do with. Somewhere between the silences, the arguments, and the moments neither of them has the courage to name, Grace begins to wonder if a heart bruised by life can still make room for something gentle. Because what grows between them isn't simply love. It is the quiet warmth of being seen. The slow mending of something once thought beyond repair. A connection that teaches a suffering heart how to breathe again.

In the familiar lanes of Gokuldham, Tapu has grown up surrounded by laughter, expectations, and a future everyone seems to have already decided for him. As the son of a businessman, he is expected to follow the path laid before him. But somewhere between the noise of the world and the silence of his own heart, Tapu begins to wonder if his life can belong to something beyond what others have chosen. Far away from the life he once knew, Laherika carries a past she rarely speaks about. Born into a Rajasthani family with deep roots and an old ancestral home, she leaves behind more than a place when circumstances force her to begin again. In Mumbai, she finds shelter with people who care for her, but the wounds of yesterday have taught her to keep strangers at a distance. Their worlds don't collide because of love. They meet through a misunderstanding-two stubborn souls seeing each other from completely different sides. Yet their paths continue crossing through unexpected journeys, old forts, family expectations, forgotten dreams, arguments, laughter, and moments neither of them planned. One is searching for a future. The other is trying to escape her past. Perhaps Tapu is the rain that arrives after a long summer. Perhaps Laherika is the spring that appears after an endless winter. And perhaps, somewhere between the falling rain and the first blooming leaves, two strangers may slowly discover that some meetings are not accidents. They are seasons arriving before their time.

come delve into my world it's love it's darkness it's light it's shadiness let me take you on an adventure let me unfasten your heart despite the hardship despite the pain let me hold your hand let's embark on my ship the heart couldn't be truer instinct is your compass let me show you the world let me discover your heart come ## I'm not poetic in any way, so this is just a collection of free-verses I thought is worth sharing. Cover by @TheTigerWriter

Kit Dempsey likes order. She has a to do list for everything. She's the type of girl who color codes her notes, has a reputation for being impossible, and has zero patience for boys who think being charming is a personality. Seven Hayes likes chaos. He navigates life with no plan whatsoever other than going with the flow. He's the type of guy who makes decisions on impulse, collects trouble like souvenirs, and has somehow been sent to Bellweather for the summer to stay with his grandmother. When Seven crashes into Kit's carefully organized summer, the two make a bet: she'll teach him how to commit to something, he'll teach her how to stop planning everything and then a list comes into the picture. Six weeks. One summer. And absolutely no room for a maybe.

Heya, this is Silas, and this is my guide on how to get over the love of my life's suicide. It would've been obviously an excellent guide if it weren't for everything not being the way they really seem to be. By the way, remember when I said my love killed herself? No, I think she was murdered.

A Book of Poetry, pretty self explanatory.

This is my therapeutic method. Please feel free to give me your opinion this is my first time trying to write anything! Much love 💛

a book of shitty poetry and depressing literature to express my feelings - caeliinyx

Short fiction for sleepless nights and wandering minds. Each story is 500-1000 words-born from prompts, restlessness, or thoughts I couldn't leave unwritten. Soft, strange, a little sad or a little sweet-these stories blend magical realism, quiet sci-fi, and wistful drama. If you like tales that whisper more than shout, that feel like a breeze through an open window, this space is for you. Read one before bed, in a waiting room, or whenever you just need to feel something. Unwind here. Drift elsewhere for a while.