Literary Stories

Ziri Meziani does not want friends. Born to an unremarkable town in southern England, Ziri spends most of his time in his head. His parents and his therapist tell him that he "shouldn't spend so much time alone", but to Ziri, other people are an inconvenience at best and a threat at worst. Unfortunately, Miles Hoàng is committed to getting on his nerves. GENRE: coming of age, teen bxb romance TROPES: the boy next door, reluctant lovers, tutoring COMP TITLES: The Perks of Being A Wallflower, The Black Flamingo featured in Wattpad: BxB Pride Spotlight featured in Wattpad: Written With Pride 2023 AMBY AWARDS WINNER in teen fiction featured in Ambassadors: Rainbow Fiction featured in Teen Fiction: LGBTQIAP+ Teens featured in lgbtq: BoyxBoy (YA) featured in FreeTheLGBT: Diverse Literature featured in StoriesUndiscovered: Tales Of The Heart featured in YaRomance: Unforgettable Firsts

Eraser crumbs swept onto her desk. Her name turned into the class punchline. Rumors that reach a room before she does. Teachers who see all of it and mark her present. For nineteen months, that is Fuuko's whole school life, and she survives it by counting. Fifty-six ceiling tiles. Ninety-one steps. A three-hundred-yen notebook that holds her weeks. Coco Sakurai is the girl behind it, and the girl the whole class watches. Every laugh is placed. Every kindness has an audience. Under all of it runs one engine: fear. Nobody steps in. Nothing changes. Then six days do. ··· Prologue + 16 chapters, updating Mon, Wed, Fri. The final seven chapters post daily, one each day, ending Sunday night. This one carries real weight. A note before you begin, and resources at the end, are part of the book. Sixteen and up.

He never dreamed of becoming a writer. He simply loved to write. What began as a childhood escape slowly became the only way he knew how to make sense of life. But dreams don't always survive reality. As the years pass, love, loss, grief, and the weight of growing up begin to rewrite the story he thought he was living. Now, with nothing left but empty pages and fading memories, he must decide whether some stories are worth finishing... or whether this one was always meant to remain unfinished.

The Dreamer awakes, the shadow goes by; the tale I have told you, that tale is a lie... Portals to magical worlds, corvids that speak the meaning of life, and more await one who sits and listens to this sharing of tales between two anachronistic raconteurs, one of whom may or may not be Geoffrey Chaucer. Reader, remember this: the tales are pure fictions. Fantasies. Except when they are not.

"An immortal vampire. A world that no longer needs him. And a black cat entirely unimpressed by either fact." "A brooding lord of darkness entirely defeated by the whimsical charms of his cat." Deep within the unforgiving cliffs of Eastern Europe, Lord Victor-an ancient, bloodless vampire-has spent centuries frozen in the tedious amber of immortality. Having lost his land, his lineage, and the mortal wife he only realized he loved when it was far too late, Victor has long forgotten the meaning of purpose. But when a serene, golden-auraed Buddha unexpectedly breaches his castle walls and shatters his centuries of stagnation, Victor is left with no choice but to step out into a rapidly modernizing world that no longer requires his presence. Strapping his heavy oak coffin-filled with his homeland's soil-to his back, and accompanied by a delightfully troublesome black cat who treats the lord of the night like a mere scratching post, Victor sets out on a train journey bound for the mysterious East. 🧛‍♀️Author's Note: Thank you for visiting The Wandering Vampire! This edition contains substantial preview chapters. All episodes in Chapter 1 are free. From partway through Chapter 2, parts of each episode are pay-to-view. To read the complete, unabridged versions of every episode, please visit my Substack through the link below. 👉 https://yumesakinovelist67.substack.com/s/novel-the-wandering-vampire 😼Original story and Japanese text by Kaori Yumesaki. English translation produced with AI assistance and edited under the author's direction. Copyright © 2026 Kaori Yumesaki. All rights reserved.

Not every love story gets to be one. They were never together. Not officially. Not out loud. But for months, he was the only person she didn't have to explain herself to. He understood before she finished the sentence. He played the right song without being asked. And then he disappeared - the way he always did - and she kept coming back anyway. Always, Almost is a novel about a relationship that existed entirely in the almost - the almost said, the almost stayed, the almost was. The love that never quite becomes one. And why those are sometimes the hardest to leave behind. For anyone who has kept something for longer than they should have.

If you were given the chance to become a bystander in your favorite Harbinger's life, how would you react? Even if it meant becoming his test subject first...

Love means different things to different people. This collection is simply another way I see it. Some poems may remind you of someone. Some may remind you of yourself. Others may become a feeling you never knew you had. Whatever you find between these pages, I hope you see it... In another light. - AnonymousP-01

We spend our whole lives begging strangers to handle us with gentle hands. We write grand rules for how we want to be loved, yet we never stop to ask the only thing that actually matters: "When was the last time you were gentle with yourself?" This is not a story about finding your other half. It is a sharp, surgical look at the quiet execution we mistake for romance: the decision to carve away your own landscape just to purchase an hour of quiet in someone else's shadow. Stop starving yourself to feed a stone.

Cade was forced to watch his older sisters witch trail whom he believes cursed his entire village to death. He is has to start elsewhere in a new town with new social expectations for what it means for a boy to become a man. The social expectations being: find a fiancé, career or buy a property. He feels the pressure to become man as he senses his sister haunting him and pressuring him to be a strong and good man. Along the way Cade meets Mariaya who is charismatic and also meets a honest bartender not afraid to challenge him.

"Because when things feel heavy... I want to be where you are." That's what he told her. And somehow, she believed him. They met at a quiet café - where his past stayed zipped behind a jacket, and her heart hadn't yet learned how to be careful. He wasn't supposed to stay. But then came the borrowed mornings. The almost-kisses. The scar she wasn't supposed to see. Suddenly, love didn't look like a promise. It looked like something whispered - just in case someone was listening. The Lie That Loved Me is a slow-burn, poetic romance about soft hands, sharp truths, and the ache of loving someone who was never yours to keep. For the ones who never asked for forever - just for someone to stay. - © 2025 Anira. All rights reserved. Do not repost or reproduce without permission.

The Last Harvest Some love stories are written in letters. Others are written in a lifetime of sacrifices. After graduating with a degree in Accountancy, Neir Nevaeh M. Pisiac returns to her grandparents' quiet provincial home, hoping to spend a year away from the rush of city life. But the season she comes home is harvest season-a time when golden rice fields promise both hope and livelihood to the farming community. While her grandmother manages the endless work of the harvest, Neir Nevaeh M. Pisiac devotes herself to caring for her bedridden grandfather, Feodor. Day after day, she feeds him, changes his clothes, listens to his stories, and stays beside him through long, silent nights. Though an accident has stolen much of his memory, Feodor remembers one thing with remarkable clarity: the life he lived before old age claimed his body. He remembers a childhood shaped by poverty in the rice fields of Bohol. He remembers the father who healed with faith instead of medicine. He remembers the stubborn boy who refused to let hardship bury his dreams. He remembers leaving home in search of an education, working tirelessly to build a better future, and meeting the woman who would become the love of his life-Miracle. As forgotten memories slowly return through heartfelt conversations, Neir discovers that every wrinkle on her grandfather's face hides a story worth preserving, every harvest carries the weight of countless sacrifices, and every lifetime leaves behind seeds for the next generation. The Last Harvest is a moving novel about family, resilience, enduring love, and the quiet heroes whose greatest achievements are not written in history books but live on in the hearts of those they leave behind.

Han Jue came to Tianzhu Sect with a forgettable name, a spiritual root assessment that clears scrutiny because he designed it to, and three sects' worth of fabricated lineage. Four months of careful performance. Mediocre. Wandering. Dull enough to discourage notice. The plan was working. Then he sat across a desk from a senior disciple who closes books with both hands and watches faces instead of pages, and the man read him a poem about a tree out of season, and looked up, and did not look away. Mosheng Peak is not what he thought he was infiltrating. The thirteen-year-old in the upper courtyard has a laugh that hurts to hear. The senior with the jade cord under his collar has lost someone he never speaks about. The orthodox cultivation world Han Jue came to dismantle has people in it. He had not planned for that. A literary danmei xianxia about hidden identity, slow-burn devotion, and the cost of finding people worth saving when you came to burn the place down.

The Rhythm of Life is not one story. It is a playlist of lives. A confession whispered beneath arcade lights. A choice made in a frozen palace. A stranger dragging themselves through the city simply to prove they are still moving. A community speaking with one voice while the world threatens to drown them out. Across centuries, countries, cultures and genres, each track opens a door into a life that may never appear again. Some stories race. Others linger. Some arrive as memories, conversations, records, messages or fragments rescued from silence. The characters do not share a destiny, a bloodline or a hidden plot. They share only the brief and extraordinary fact that they are here. Joy follows grief. Romance interrupts violence. Comedy rises beside longing. The tempo changes without warning, and no two lives move to quite the same rhythm. There is no correct order. No single genre. No promise of what comes next. Press shuffle. Please note it is written with AI as the author cannot spell.

In the midst of war, where every street may bury one last memory, Yulia sets out in search of the truth, only to find herself on a path where the lines between love, loss, and deception begin to disappear. Every answer opens the door to a darker secret-and sometimes, the most terrifying truth is the one that has been hiding in plain sight all along.

When twenty-one-year-old Aarohi Mishra unlocks an old teakwood trunk that belonged to her late grandmother, she expects faded photographs, forgotten sarees, maybe a few family keepsakes. Instead, she finds thirty-two handwritten letters addressed to a woman she's never heard of. The name leads her to Armaan Dev Varma. At twenty-six, Armaan has spent years protecting his family's legacy. He has never heard Aarohi's grandmother's name, yet the handwriting on those letters belongs to his own grandmother. Neither of them knows why two women from completely different worlds spent decades writing to each other. Or why someone made sure those letters were never meant to be found. As they begin retracing a story that disappeared long before they were born, old loyalties begin to crack, family histories stop making sense, and the line between truth and love becomes harder to draw. Some inherit property. Some inherit expectations. Aarohi and Armaan inherit a silence that has lasted for thirty years. Breaking it might cost them everything. Ignoring it might cost them each other. A story about old letters, inherited guilt, quiet love, and the courage to ask the questions previous generations were too afraid to answer.

In 1915 an unsuspecting passenger ship sails through treacherous waters toward a doom that was ordered from the highest authorities. For Jacob Blankfield, a thirteen-year-old boy dependent on leg braces and crutches, coming of age will come early, aboard a ship on its final voyage across the Atlantic, amidst explosions and torpedoes, battling forces unleashed by Great Powers in a Great War. After witnessing a murder, Jacob is thrust into the center of a conspiracy that threatens his own life and that of two thousand passengers. Forming alliances with friends and enemies, he digs to uncover the expansive details of a plot and the coconspirators before it is too late, standing in the way of secret plans and nefarious men, ultimately pushed to overcome his fear and handicaps to take matters into his own hands. As the ship approaches its destiny, Jacob closes in on a final duel of arms against an experienced and sinister opponent, learning that even his friends can be enemies. An introduction to arms, action and courage that promise to change his life forever and permanently forge his character, for better or for worse.

Some places never really leave you. A campus tucked away behind old trees. A hostel room that slowly became home. Friendships that once felt permanent. Conversations that lasted until sunrise. And one person who arrived quietly... only to leave behind a silence that echoed for years. Evelyn never expected college to change her life. She certainly never expected it to break her before teaching her how to put herself back together. This isn't the story of a girl who found love. It's the story of a girl who lost herself, searched for pieces in all the wrong places, and discovered that growing up means learning to become your own home. Years later, when life unexpectedly brings the past back to her doorstep, she's faced with one question she'd stopped asking long ago: Can timing rewrite a story that was never truly finished?

"Some loves don't end - they just keep raining inside you." When Aarav met Meher, it wasn't love at first sight - it was something quieter, deeper. He carried storms in his silence; she carried sunlight in her scars. In an ordinary city where everything felt temporary, they built something that almost felt eternal - moments stitched together by laughter, art, and the unspoken promise of "forever." But love, as Aarav learned, isn't always loud. Sometimes it ends softly - like rain that refuses to stop, washing away what once bloomed beneath it. As secrets unfolded and dreams began to rust, their story became less about holding on, and more about learning how to let go without breaking. When the Rain Didn't Stop is a hauntingly beautiful modern tragedy - a tale of two hearts that found everything in each other, only to lose it all when the rain refused to end.

Suddenly Mortal A phone rings at five a.m. No siren. No knock. Just a call - and the world you knew is over. You are no longer a person. You are a resource. A line in a budget. A unit awaiting write-off. An engineer. A philology student with a worn Brodsky. An old Afghan veteran. A history teacher. Each overtaken by the same knock. The State Machine sets its conveyor belt in motion: a draft notice, a medical board, a training camp, a freight wagon, a trench, a stray fragment, a death notice. People become figures. Figures become accounts. Bandages run out faster than soldiers. Heroism becomes a bookkeeping entry. This war is not waged for victory. It is waged to hold power. To preserve revenue. To justify a regime that would collapse under its own emptiness. The Machine does not want peace - peace would stop the conveyor. But somewhere on that conveyor, a book remains. A copy of Brodsky, wrapped in plastic, passed from hand to hand - from the one who died to the one still alive. To a medic who had no bandages. To a mother who received a death notice but never a grave. While the book is intact, the Machine is not absolute. While its pages have not stuck with blood - someone still remembers. And memory is the one thing that cannot be written off. Written in a grotesque, tragicomic manner, with epigraphs from Nietzsche to Brodsky and an intonation echoing Bulgakov's satire, Suddenly Mortal is not merely a novella. It is a document. A testimony. A fragment lodged in memory. What will you do when the Machine wakes again - and the dead ring louder than any anthem?