Story • 👁️ 16 Reads
The Last Train
It was the last train out of the city. Everyone knew it, but no one said a word. We just watched the concrete fade into gray fields.
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Poem • 👁️ 17 Reads
The Whispering Pines
In the quiet of the morning light,
Before the world begins its flight,
The whispering pines begin to sway,
And wash the silence of the night away.
Their needles catch the golden dawn,
A gentle breeze, a quiet song.
We walk beneath their ancient grace,
And find a momentary peace in this space.
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Story • 👁️ 17 Reads
The Midnight Train to Nowhere
The ticket didn't have a destination printed on it, just a time: 11:59 PM. I stood on the platform, the autumn chill biting through my coat, clutching the small piece of cardboard like a lifeline.
When the train arrived, it made no sound. No screeching brakes, no whistle. It just glided into the station, its windows glowing with a warm, amber light.
I stepped aboard, leaving everything I knew behind. The conductor tipped his hat. "Welcome," he said. "We've been waiting for you."
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Poem • 👁️ 18 Reads
The Ocean's Edge
Where the water meets the sand,
I drew a line with my own hand.
The tide came in, as it always will,
And erased the line, leaving it still.
We build our castles in the sun,
But the ocean claims them, one by one.
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Poem • 👁️ 16 Reads
city lights
concrete canyons
neon veins
we are all just passing through
umbrellas in the rain
coffee cups and hurried steps
silence in the noise
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