Pluviophile

Reads 57,752
Votes 5,459
Parts 82
Time 1h 0m

Reads 57,752
Votes 5,459
Parts 82
Time 1h 0m

It was a rainy day, in New York no less.

One held a cup of coffee, wishing for the rain to stop.

One held a hand full of old books, savouring the moment.

short story #98
poetry #51All Rights Reserved

introvertt new pluviophile rain york

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82 parts

#14pluviophile

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A Not So Expected Form (Bitty yuji/Bitty Sukuna x reader) by myth_soul

you were going home from school, it was raining. when you got home you saw something.... (I will edit it in my free time and when it's finish)

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On one rainy day, a lonesome Literary school student awoke from his sleep, and see's his Open PC which displayed a blank page on its screen. Seeing this reminded him of his stagnant, unfulfilling, and dull life. Even though he wants to write, he finds himself wasting his precious hours on playing games and watching videos on the internet. Hating himself for not only wasting his parents' money for the school tuition, but he also hates himself for all his wasted opportunities. He continues with his days of misery until one day, a friend of his invites him to go out and walk around the city. With nothing else to do he accepts his invite. Regret, fatigue, anxiety, and never-ending self-pity, all of these have haunted him in his past 2 years and hampered his progress, but in this short trip with his friend helps him take his first steps in combating and adjusting towards those uncomfortable feelings and rekindles a passion that he has long lost.

The rain stopped. But so did the dream. In the end, it was as if it never happened. If none of it was real, is there a point of remembering? Is it the memories trapping me or myself? This is a collection of short pieces of writings created in the middle of the night during sudden mood swings, all somewhat related to rainy days or endless fields or train stations...or maybe something more. Theres no particular order so enjoy :)

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It was a day in March. Never, never begin a story this way when you write one. No opening could possibly be worse. It is unimaginative, flat, dry and likely to consist of mere wind. But in this instance it is allowable. For the following paragraph, which should have inaugurated the narrative, is too wildly extravagant and preposterous to be flaunted in the face of the reader without preparation. Sarah was crying over her bill of fare. Think of a New York girl shedding tears on the menu card!

Under the Same Umbrella: A One-shot Novel by NokiBernales

On a day when the rain never seemed to stop, Mark met Eira-again. He just didn't remember her yet. Each glance feels too familiar. Each word feels rehearsed. And when lightning strikes, flashes of another life start bleeding into his own, memories that shouldn't exist, a love that shouldn't still hurt. As graduation day unfolds under gray skies, Mark begins to realize that he's trapped in a loop of lifetimes, and that every choice he makes might bring him closer to losing her all over again. With a mysterious cat leading him through the storm, Mark learns that fate isn't about second chances... it's about remembering why you keep falling for the same soul, even when the world resets. Because somewhere, under the same umbrella, their story never really ended.

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