Shortys2025 Stories

As the ink flows onto the page, it whispers the secret from his heart. His identity is still a black cloud but he tries to unleash a part of his emotions, inking them with black on a paper with colour. Within these pages, he writes his love, pouring his emotions into verse as he pens for his muse, Vritika. This book compiles Advik's poems that he penned for Vritika in "Tide Me To Forever"―here, you'll find 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒚 that echoes the rhythm of Advik's heartbeat for Vritika. N o t e: It can be read as standalone poetry.

- T H E H U N T E R S - All sought different treasures, All became their hunt. - T H E C O L L E C T I O N - One bled in words, Darker and more visceral than blood. The other bled out his breath, He couldn't stop to catch himself. The third bled in memories, His breath, pure marble dust. The fourth one was dead, He didn't bleed at all..

══════════◄••❀••►═════════ M𝐨𝐯𝐞 through the quiet corners of human emotion-sorrow, hope, love, and loss. T𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 verses are not just a reflection of one soul, but of many. They carry the feelings we hold in silence-the ones we do not always know how to name. T𝐡𝐢𝐬 collection begins where most people stop - in the dark, in the unnamed, in the weight of what we carry alone. It rises through every corner of what it means to feel deeply, until what remains is not the night that came for you, but the burning soul it could not extinguish. T𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 shadows and light, through the darkest nights and the warmest dawns, this collection asks one quiet question: what if the radiance you've been searching for was always yours? ══════════◄••❀••►═════════

There's something about the smell of rain - that soft, earthy whisper just before the clouds burst. Poets call it petrichor, an elegant name for a fleeting memory: the earth exhaling in a moment you can never quite hold. It's always fleeting. Rain comes, rain goes, and the scent lingers only a heartbeat before fading. That's life, isn't it? Fleeting. Here. Gone. Lovely and cruel in the same breath. This book is my attempt to bottle that scent - moments that mean nothing and everything all at once. Not grand stories where heroes save kingdoms, but the way your heartbeat slows under a tin roof, streetlights turn to halos in the fog, or a memory of someone you loved returns with a passing scent. The stories are stitched together like raindrops on a window - separate, yet connected by the way they fall. They're about people, places, and memories that drift into view during a storm and vanish when the sun breaks through. You'll meet strangers, lovers, ghosts, and perhaps even yourself between these lines. You'll walk down wet streets, feel the cold seep into your shoes, and taste tea too hot from impatience. Rain follows you, not in gloom, but like a quiet friend who knows when to pause. Sometimes there's heartbreak, because rain draws it out. But sometimes, joy: dancing in empty car parks, laughing under a rebellious umbrella, standing soaked and alive. The phrase Afterrain came to me one morning when I opened my kitchen window. The scent rose from the wet garden and hit me like a memory I couldn't name. Many things in my life have felt like that - sharp, vivid, unforgettable, and then gone. Not just rain. People. Moments. Feelings. If this book were a perfume, you'd stumble upon it - in the rain, in the street, in a pause between breaths. My job is to help you notice it, and maybe see the beauty in how it slips away.

This is me-no filters, no edits, just my soul laid bare in words. Anatomy of the Soul isn't just a collection of poems. It's my way of reaching out when words feel like the only thing I have to give. Here you'll find love and heartbreak, but also the messy, loud, quiet parts of life that don't always get talked about. Social truths, personal struggles, little moments of hope-everything tangled together. This is my art, my ritual, my offering. A place where I explore not just the world around me, but the world inside me. If you decide to step inside, I hope you find something that speaks to your own soul-maybe even gives you a voice for things you've never said out loud. This is poetry for the heart, for change, for us. In the past, my poetry was a way to explore and experiment-sometimes searching for connection, sometimes just trying to understand myself better. Now, with Anatomy of the Soul, it's different. This is my space to be completely honest, to share what I couldn't say out loud, and to write for myself first. Whether these poems find readers or not, they are pieces of my soul I needed to release. And if you do find yourself here, I hope these words bring you comfort, a sense of understanding, and the quiet company of someone who feels like you. This is my truth, my voice, my gift.

A collection of romantic short stories by yours truly. 🩷 © All rights reserved.

It's a prose poetry piece anyone can give as a gift to someone unique to them. 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸 Published by Crescent Press on 'Love Without Construct,' Issue 01 https://open.substack.com/pub/crescentpress25/p/love-without-construct-issue-01-crescent?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android&r=6cnpqu

An Revenford actress, Tara and her husband, William went to a space station in another planet, Panxem for her Blinkonese Sign Language class with Mary and Ray Young. But Tara accidentally made Mary crumbled when she accidentally reminded Mary of her trauma. So what's Mary's biggest problem? This is the fifth installment of the Tara Preston series

I'm not meant to be the hero. I know that much. These emotions I carry with me will never allow me to truly free our kingdom from its secret villain. The villain no one knows is there. So let me help you, the true heroes, get to him. In our last fight, after being friends with each other for so long, I will guide you to him and be your villain one last time.

My name is Jansen, and I call this my second life. I've learned what it means to lose, to fight, and to remember someone long after the world thinks you should have moved on. This is my story-of healing, of memory, and of a love I never forgot. Jansen A Short Story by R.M. Graves Total word count: 3423

An anthology of short stories, narrative poems, and flash fiction. #1 in flash fiction [2/10/2026]

A short story loosely based on a real-life story. 🩵Josephine has all but given up on finding true love which is but a dream to her - until a little heavenly intervention changes the path of her life. All it took was a little prayer.🩵

A powerful reflection on the strength found in silence. This poem challenges the belief that silence is weakness, revealing instead that it is resilience, survival, and a voice of its own. For those who have ever been misunderstood in their quiet, these words speak the truth only silence can hold. ©All rights reserved.

A collection of Flash Fics for shortys2025 contest.

A collection of shorts made with the help of my creative writing English major. Probably won't update too frequently, only with older pieces. Might throw in a poem or a play if I'm feeling bold. Shoutout to the Shortys!

New to Chicago and hiding from a toxic past, Natalia answers a text meant for someone else and spins a little white lie that becomes dangerously real. When the mystery woman asks to meet, Natalia must decide whether to confess or risk losing the only person who's made her heart feel less alone.

A collection of poems. "The Pink Blue Rose" is a love story told in petals. Each poem blooms into the next, carrying you through a gentle journey of tenderness, heartbreak, and quiet wonder. Short enough to be read in a single sitting, yet deep enough to linger long after, this collection captures the fragile beauty of moments that slip between dream and memory. As the rose shifts from pink to blue, so too does the heart-discovering the ache of longing, the sweetness of hope, and the miracle of finding love where you least expect it. A delicate fable in verse, The Pink Blue Rose is for anyone who has ever pressed a flower between the pages of their life and called it love. Participating: #Shortys2025 Best Ranks: #7 poem #3 poems #1 poetrycollection #1 bookofpoems #3 prose #3 shortys

(2/2) A hidden Wonderland calls every night at 11 p.m. - beautiful, dangerous, and stained with secrets. Step inside, and you may never come back the same. 🌑🕰️

Read an original poem, written by S.B. Stark.

What would you do if You woke up one day to find myself in the world of a story You wrote? That's exactly what happened to me. One minute, I was dozing off in my pajamas, and the next, I was trailing the shadow of a handsome & swaggering guy named Ice Rivers, who, as it turns out, is my own fictional creation. I quickly realized I was trapped in the universe of my story and had a unique power which is ....... Still finding my footing in this new reality , Join me on the great adventures we will have together in my story !!!!