Mia swung open the door and stormed into her room, her footsteps pounding against the
wooden floor. She slammed the door shut with such force that the walls seemed to shudder.
Inside, her room was a mess of scattered books, crumpled papers, and the faint glow of her
desk lamp, but she didn’t care. She leaned against the door, breathing heavily, her hands
trembling with frustration.
Outside, Ron, her younger brother, stood hesitantly. He had been reading on the couch when
Mia had burst into the house like a whirlwind. Her fiery expression had been enough to make
him pause, but his curiosity got the better of him.
“What happened, sister?” he asked cautiously, knocking on her door.
“Shut up!” Mia snapped, her voice sharp and cutting. “And don’t you dare enter this room
again!” She shot the words like arrows, each one laced with anger and exhaustion.
Ron recoiled, hurt flashing across his face. He stood there for a moment, debating whether to
press further or leave her alone. Finally, he sighed and trudged back to the living room,
muttering, “She’s always so grumpy.”
Inside, Mia sank onto her bed, burying her face in her hands. The events of the day replayed
in her mind like a cruel movie reel. The argument with her best friend, the disappointment in
her teacher’s eyes, and the humiliation of failing at something she had worked so hard for—it
was too much. Her chest felt tight, and tears threatened to spill, but she wiped them away
fiercely.
“I don’t need anyone,” she whispered to herself, her voice shaking. “I’ll fix this on my own.”
But deep down, a part of her wished Ron would knock again, just to remind her she wasn’t
entirely alone.
The Envelop that waited
The man sat quietly at the corner of the café, his face partly hidden by the shadow of his
wide-brimmed hat. He wore a dark coat that looked a little too big for him, its edges
brushing the floor as he leaned back in his chair. His fingers drummed lightly on the table,
though his expression was calm—too calm.
His eyes, sharp and gray, scanned the bustling square in front of him. People came and went,
but no one seemed to notice him sitting there, as if he were invisible. He had a faint scar on
his cheek, and his mouth was set in a thin line, as though he had nothing to say—or too
much to hide.
In his hand, he held a small white envelope. It looked ordinary, but the way he held it, so
carefully, made it feel important. He glanced at the clocktower nearby. The moment it struck
seven, he stood up, placed the envelope on the table, and walked away without a word.
The envelope sat there, untouched, as if waiting for someone brave enough to open it
On the sunny day
The sun was shining brightly over the meadow, casting a golden glow on everything it
touched. Birds sang sweetly in the trees, and the air smelled of fresh grass and wildflowers.
Lily skipped down the path, her laughter echoing through the fields as she twirled her flower
crown in the air.
Her feet barely touched the ground as she moved, light and free. With each step, the flowers
seemed to bloom brighter, as if they were responding to her happiness. Her long, brown hair
bounced around her shoulders, and her bright blue eyes sparkled with excitement.
Today was the day of the Harvest Festival, and the village was alive with color and joy.
Everywhere she looked, there were stalls with delicious treats, colorful banners fluttering in
the breeze, and children running around with painted faces. Lily couldn’t wait to join in the
games and, of course, to help her grandmother with the baking contest.
As she reached the village square, she spotted her friends waiting by the big oak tree, all
smiles and waving arms. “Lily, you made it!” they cheered, pulling her into a group hug.
Lily grinned from ear to ear. Today, everything felt perfect, and the whole world seemed to
be celebrating with her.
Whispers in the Dark
The house stood at the end of the road, its windows dark and lifeless, like empty eyes staring
into the void. Ethan had always been drawn to it, even as a child. He’d heard the stories—
whispers of strange noises, figures seen through the windows at night, and the air around it
thick with something unspoken. But tonight, something was different.
He stood at the iron gate, his breath visible in the chilly air. The wind carried a faint whisper,
but when he turned to listen, there was no one around. His heart pounded in his chest as he
pushed the gate open. The hinges groaned, loud and unnatural, like a warning.
The path leading up to the front door was overgrown with weeds, and the door itself hung
slightly ajar, as though someone—or something—had just left. Ethan’s fingers tingled with
an uneasy sensation, but his curiosity was stronger than the fear gnawing at his stomach. He
stepped closer, his boots crunching on the gravel, each step feeling heavier than the last.
Suddenly, a soft thump echoed from inside the house. Ethan froze, his eyes wide, his breath
catching in his throat. It sounded like someone—or something—was moving upstairs. He
knew he should leave, but the pull to discover the truth was too strong.
With a deep breath, he pushed the door open fully, and as it creaked on its old hinges, a cold
gust of air rushed out, carrying the faint scent of something decayed. He stepped inside, the
floorboards groaning under his weight.
