Tag: story
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What Should Girls Like Me Do?
by someone still figuring it out There are days when I wake up and genuinely ask myself: What am I doing with my life? I don’t mean that in the dramatic, throw-a-pillow-at-the-wall way. I mean it in the quiet, bone-deep, unsettling way — The way you feel when your entire lineage seems to shine with…
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The Darkness, and the City
The darkness hadn’t arrived suddenly. It had taken root long ago—quietly, insistently—until it shaped everything. Her choices. Her silences. A broken marriage. Disappointed parents. The hollow weight of conversations that ended, inevitably, in those same tired words: “You’re so capable. Why don’t you do something with your life?” She used to smile—a twitch of the…
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A Crescent Over Granada
A Sunset, a Stranger, and the Alchemy of Travel I arrived in Granada by train from Madrid, the soft rumble of the rails still humming in my bones as I checked into my hostel. The usual chorus of “hi, hello, where are you from?” echoed through the shared dorm room as I met my temporary…
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Get yourself together!
Tap… tap tap tap… tap. The sound felt like it came from somewhere far into the darkness. She groaned softly, slowly opening her eyes as the morning light crept into her consciousness. A smile touched her lips. Stretching her arms over her head, she blinked and focused on the source of the tapping—her window. A…
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The Man I Love
As you walk past the village, following the gravel road, just where the farmlands begin, your gaze is drawn to a quiet, boxy white house with a flat terrace. Its floor-to-ceiling windows open onto endless fields and mountains that turn soft and blue in the evening light. Crimson bougainvillea creepers frame every window, as if…
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The waterfall (part 1)
Where it all began The gravel crunched softly beneath her feet as she made her way down the rural road. It was past midnight, and the stars shone their brightest. She had left the sleeping village behind; now, the farmlands stretched around her, watched over by distant mountains. The crescent moon hung low on the…
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Wildflowers of my mind
She walked slowly along the path that disappeared into the horizon, her fingers brushing against the wildflowers swaying gently on either side. The blooms danced in the afternoon breeze, dotting the green hillside with bright reds, yellows, blues, and whites. She followed a narrow trail, carved out by the few who, like her, cherished the…
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