Poeticprose Stories

Fire and Frost || A Kim Taehyung FF || Previously known as Crimson Thrones She was born a princess of peace. He was crowned a king of war. When two rival kingdoms drown in blood, a marriage is forged to halt the carnage. A union between Princess Y/N of Aureth and Taehyung of Varyn, a ruthless king. Yet beneath the vows and velvet, something ancient stirs. A curse born of love, betrayal, and death. As their hearts learn to bleed for one another, fate sharpens its blade once more. Because some souls are bound across lifetimes... and some loves are doomed to die in every one of them.

Elliott and Erynel met at a friend's cafe years after they parted ways. With this fated encounter transpiring, will any of them still have residual feelings for each other? Or will they be able to just move past each other like nothing had happened to them in the past. Sequel to "She's Thunderstorms".

Essex, 1948. Chiedozie Nwosu is a brilliant young African engineering student with a flawless future ahead of him. Elara Whittemore is the daughter of a desperate, debt-ridden British Lord, trapped by the expectations of her class. When a malicious lie places Chiedozie's life and freedom at the mercy of the local constabulary, a brutal bargain is struck in the dark. To buy his silence and unlock a hidden family fortune, Lord Arthur forces an impossible union: Chiedozie must marry Elara, becoming a prisoner to the estate, or face a life behind bars. Bound together by a cold contract and a shared betrayal, two solitary souls must navigate the sharp frost of post-war England. Can love grow from the soil of coercion, or are they merely collateral damage in a nobleman's game? AUTHOR'S NOTE "I wanted to write a story that felt like a lost classic-where the prose is as heavy as the Essex mud and as sharp as a Lagos sun. This is for the dreamers who found themselves in a world that wasn't built for them. Expect chapters that breathe, settings that bleed, and a romance that earns every single spark."

Avery is packing up his locker for his last week in highschool, when he finds an old laptop with minecraft already installed. ...Strange is the night where black stars rise and strange moons circle through the skies, but stranger still is in Lost Carcosa... After some strange occurrences in his world he can only chalk up to the previous owner of the laptop, he settles in for the night, only to be met with a message. UNKNOWN NUMBER hello avery i've found you

Some houses have walls. Some houses have wounds. Li Longshen grew up protecting his three younger brothers from a father who thought love meant control, and a house that never felt home. He took every blow, every silence, every tear-for them. But what happens when four broken boys step outside the house that hurt them? Longshen, Yichen, Yuanzhi, and Jiling each carry their scars into the world-quiet, trembling, still hoping. And slowly, they begin to find something different: Friendship. Kindness. Love. their partner are the ones who will teach them: Some homes are not built from bricks. Some are found in the arms of those who stay. This is a story of trauma and tenderness, of brotherhood and burden, and of slow-burn love that doesn't fix, but heals.

SNILBIODE: A slow-growing connection between strangers that was never love, but became meaningful enough to hurt when it faded away. I don't know who he was. I'm not sure he knew me too. Maybe he knew me. Just memories and the way I felt our talking-ship. (Do not copy or use my lines ,it's me and myself who created the title name and meaning)

After loss tore her world apart, Raine Dyer vanished into the forest living in a forgotten cottage. There, beneath the canopy's twilight glow, she stumbles upon an ancient clay statue hidden among the roots. From that moment on, dreams bleed into reality. Whispers follow her. Shadows shift. And the forest remembers more than it should. A haunting tale of loss, isolation, and the secrets buried beneath moonlit soil.

Our female protagonist is slowing being consumed by something she can't control. What is this hollow feeling in her chest? Why won't this fog clear from her mind? She turns to writing to try to feel something, anything as she tries to make it through what she hopes will be her last month. Will she find the spark to keep her running?

A fairy-tale-esque short story, which deliberately adopts folklore-like writing, using personified cosmic forces to explore love as mutual illumination rather than possession. No placement, but this tale has gotten a 95/100 in the Triquetra Awards Short Story category!

تعرف على ذاتك قبل أن تخوض الحب. Know yourself before you venture into love.

Three ancient dragons. One vote. The egg cracked anyway. Deep inside Silverpike Mountain, the stones have a pulse. Two thousand miles away, a one-eyed dragon lifts his wing for the first time in millennia-not to fly, but to send a signal through the planet's bones. Two other dragons answer. One refuses. But beneath seven layers of basalt, something none of them voted for is waking up. An egg with no wings. A color no stone has ever seen. A third crack that makes the silence smile. They came for one throat. They found something worse.

ME - The Beast in Me is a psychological myth set in the suspended city of Superbia, where the Ego becomes a god, the mind a labyrinth, and identity a mask you can't take off. If you enjoy books like Percy Jackson but want a darker, more adult myth, this novel transforms classical hero trials into inner battles. Instead of Greek gods, Superbia's Pantheon rules the psyche: Narcisa Covert - the Shadow Goddess, mother of personality disorders. Overer - the Lord of Excess and Perfection. Sixteen semi-divine archetypes shape the soul's journey. The book unfolds in Thirty Acts: ten Admirations, ten Martyrs, ten Excesses - a descent into the self where the Beast is never outside you, but within. If you're searching for Percy Jackson-like mythology for adults, this novel turns divine trials into psychological truth. The Beast doesn't come from outside. It comes from you.

In the heart of an ancient forest walks a stag with antlers like moonlight and eyes that remember everything. He is not a myth, though many call him one. He is not a ghost, though he moves like breath through the trees. Told through the stag's eyes, Crowned by the Wild is a lyrical journey through the shifting seasons-of stillness and storm, silence and change, presence and mystery. Each step he takes leaves no trace, and yet those who glimpse him are never the same again. This is not a story of hunters or kings. This is a story of watching. Of remembering. Of being seen. For those who love quiet magic, forest secrets, and beauty that walks only when the world is still.

Somewhere between forgetting and remembering, there is a library. It doesn't appear on any map. It can't be searched for. It simply finds you. Usually on an ordinary day, in an ordinary place, at the exact moment you stop being able to carry everything alone. Inside, the quiet architecture responds to your presence. Glass jars hum softly as you pass them. A scroll unrolls only as far as you are ready to read. Rooms appear only when you stop looking for them, and doors loop back into themselves. Nothing here is lost. Everything here has been kept in trust. The longer you stay, the more familiar it all becomes, until you begin to suspect the truth. This place was not built for you. It was built by you. And it has been waiting, patiently, certain that someday you would finally come back. An immersive second person journey through the depths of grief and dissociation.

They met in the mountains - a man and a woman born five years apart, carrying the same wounds, shaped by different lessons. He sought understanding. She sought safety. Neither expected love. But God writes stories in ways we never plan. In a single summer, two souls collide - learning that love isn't about control, healing isn't about forgetting, and every heart, no matter how experienced, begins again. A poetic short story about faith, timing, and the divine chaos of human connection.

"The Autumn of Life" is a deeply moving, introspective prose piece that explores the profound intersections of grief, solitude, and renewal. Through the evocative imagery of a weathered shed window, a forgotten garden gnome, and a majestic, fading oak tree, the narrator navigates the silent weight of depression and isolation. The story reflects on the lingering memory of a grandfather, whose past advice to "fly" from loneliness contrasts sharply with the narrator's reality of feeling caught by it before even learning to crawl. Moving from a place of painful resistance and emotional exhaustion to a quiet, hard-won surrender, the narrative ultimately shifts its gaze from the tragedy of decay to the silent promise of rebirth. It is a poignant meditation on the hidden strength found in vulnerability, the inevitable cycles of existence, and the quiet realization that even the heaviest autumn carries the hidden seeds of spring.

Look, this book? It's a love letter to the township - but don't get it twisted; you don't have to be from here to get it. Whether you're chilling in a fancy villa in Spain or hustling somewhere else, these stories speak to you because love and struggle? They don't check your address. This is a free zone. If you don't vibe with it, no worries, the township will still be here, doing its thing, surviving and thriving, with or without you. And me? I give thanks to the same streets that raised me. Even when I'm sitting in my office, switching between languages like a pro, deep down, I'm still that township boy - sharp, stubborn, and full of stories to tell. Each chapter is a day in the life of people who refuse to be boxed in by their pasts. It's messy, real, and sometimes raw - but always honest. So, pull up a chair, open your mind, and maybe, just maybe, you'll see yourself in these pages.

Aradhana Patil had always been the quiet one. The girl who blended in, who followed the rules, who never said too much. But behind her silence lived Siya - a voice she only let out on paper. Until one accidental email changes everything. Thrown into a world of stories, letters, and a boy who simply listens, Aradhana begins a journey she never planned - not toward escape, but toward becoming. A soft tale of quiet rebellion, emotional healing, and a love that doesn't try to fix you... just sees you. "Some people read you like a book. But some... just hold you like a secret you didn't want to hide anymore."

Some cases don't go cold, they rot. Detective Celeste Virell doesn't chase headlines, she dismantles ghosts, Cold, precise and disturbingly observant, she's known for cracking the cases no one else dares to touch. But when the thirty-year-old murder of Samatha Grey is suddenly handed to her, even she feels the air shift. To face a case this rotten, Celeste turns to the only team she trusts, Mara wood, a bubbly forensic pathologist with clinical precision and eerie insight. Elias Rowe, a burnt-out ex-professor who can slip into the minds of murderers August "Auggie" Kael, the tech prodigy whose candy-cane obsession masks a mind made of wire. Damien Holt, an ex-military memory machine who rarely speaks, but never misses a detail. And Leon Seroll, the encyclopedic genius with a fixation on unsolved tragedies, and a rivalry that burns beneath his skin. Together, they are Unit thirteen, known as Unit Virell, the most elit force in Division Thirteen, But as they dig into Samantha's case, marked by missing evidence, conflicting reports, and impossible scars, they begin to sense something deeper than murder. Some truths were never meant to be found. And some clocks don't tick forward, they count down.

It all began on a quiet autumn evening with a single, clumsy collision on an ordinary street. What followed was laughter that came easily, conversations that stretched deep into the night, and a bond that grew softer with every shared moment. This is a story about two people who found each other in the in-between. between daylight and dusk, between strangers and something more. A story about warmth, silence, and everything that lingers long after the last word is spoken.