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Letters

Letters

PetuniashWP
Annie Halden was the exact definition of a wallflower. She lived on the sidelines, didn't like attention and worried too much. She wrote letters to herself as her way to get her thoughts out. She never told anyone or let anyone see. Leo Smith, one of the school star athletes and most popular boys, found one of her letters. He started breaking into her locker to read the letters every time there was a new one. He grew concerned about her and wanted to protect her, he wanted to know why she was so broken and who hurt her, he wanted her to know he was there for her - be her shoulder to lean on. How would this friendship work out with Annie being as shy and quiet as she is, never getting close to anyone? How would this friendship last if Annie came to find out the truth about Leo stealing and reading her personal letters?
Romance
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Finding Casey

Finding Casey

I served; I did what I needed to do, but it wasn't good enough. I sat chained in a dark room for nearly 3 hard, painful years, trying my best to keep myself protected and together when all I wanted to do was crumble under the pain and loss of my self-worth and ability to defend myself. There was never an even fight. It was them against me. Tied up. My brother is my life. We are Twins, and when I found out that he had died even though I tried my best to keep him alive and save him, My whole world fell to pieces. I'm a fighter; I don't back down so easily. I fight for what I believe in, but his death brings me to my knees and makes me feel as though I am drowning. His best friend is there to pick me back up. He makes me feel safe and loved, even when I can't love or forgive myself. He shows up even when I don't want him to, and he proves that he is there. Encourages me to take that leap and believe in myself. But can I really do this? Can I live even without my brother here?
Romance
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Casey’s Regret

Casey’s Regret

I was diagnosed with Neurogenic Wolf Spirit Atrophy. In half a month, I would be dead. The day I received the diagnosis, I decided to give up treatment and donate my body to the Central Research Institute after my death. Through the mind link, I reached out to my brother, whom I hadn’t seen in six years, hoping he would help me sign the papers. He sneered and cut off the link without any hesitation. With the Spirit Severance Donation Contract, a formal waiver of my right to have my wolf spirit returned to my pack's sacred grounds after death, I crossed countless territories alone to the high-ranking city where he resided. He had been promoted to commander of the Silverfang Patrol, basking in glory. He casually signed the document without even looking at me, then said with chilling indifference, “Don’t ever come to me again. Given how ungrateful you are, I can't be bothered to give you a proper burial." I nodded lightly. “I understand.” He did not know that the money for his treatments in the past years had come from me. Now, there were only seven days left until my death.
Short Story · Werewolf
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Casei com Ele. Dividi com Ela.

Casei com Ele. Dividi com Ela.

Nicolas Navarro me pediu em casamento sessenta e seis vezes em sessenta e seis viagens diferentes. Na sexagésima sétima, meu coração finalmente cedeu. No dia seguinte ao casamento, entreguei a ele sessenta e seis cartões de perdão. Um acordo silencioso: toda vez que ele me irritasse, poderia usar um para ser perdoado. Seis anos se passaram. Toda vez que a amiga de infância dele entrava entre nós, um cartão desaparecia. Quando restavam apenas dois, Nicolas finalmente notou. E era tarde demais para fingir que nada havia mudado.
Short Story · Romance
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The Suitcase Switch

The Suitcase Switch

My suitcase, filled with precious and expensive birthday gifts, was mistakenly claimed by another person at the airport. When I opened the one left behind, I found it packed with men’s clothes instead of my belongings. Determined to retrieve what was rightfully mine, I went on a frantic search for the man who had taken my suitcase. When I finally confronted him and politely asked for an exchange, he responded with the gentlest of tones: “Oh, I opened it and realized I’d made a mistake—it’s all women’s items.” I breathed a sigh of relief, ready to thank him and express my gratitude. Then he added casually, “I couldn’t use any of those things, so I sorted them out and gave them to my girlfriend. You’re welcome.” My jaw dropped. I could barely muster a response as I muttered under my breath, “What the hell?”
Short Story · Romance
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Sinner (Upperworld)

Sinner (Upperworld)

Rhianne
Amilia Geralds was living her normal life. She was already struggling through college plus her part-time work at a diner to support herself. All is well, almost. Not until she encountered a monster. She shouldn't be so surprised to see it but something told her that it was not like the others. The others were, thankfully, not after her life. But this one is. She should run away but then she found herself running toward danger. All Rights Reserve 2020
Fantasy
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A Suitcase Full of Maybes

A Suitcase Full of Maybes

It's the tenth anniversary of my bonding with my warrior mate, Owen Chase, and also our son Leo's birthday. A month earlier, I spent $8000 arranging a trip to the Blood Moon Forest. I plan to take my mate and pup to the Moon Goddess' sacred grounds to receive her blessings. This is supposed to be a happy anniversary celebration for our complete werewolf family. I've prepared everything and booked tickets for the Twilight Coach. But on the night before our departure, Owen and Leo suddenly block our mind-link. "Dad and I are having dinner with Ms. Emma on the 24th floor of Moonlight Restaurant. We've cancelled the tickets—we're not going." The call ends there. They promptly block my number as well. I rush back to our pack overnight, only to find that the security system no longer recognizes me. That night, every household locks its doors and activates protective barriers against the toxic mist of the Silver Mines in the nearby Moonveil Valley, while I could only huddle on the stone steps outside our house, inhaling the silver-laden fog all night. The poisonous substances flood my systems. I am sent to the hospital, burning with fever as my wolf grows weaker with every labored breath. Meanwhile, my family is busy touring Central City with Emma Skinner, spending the money I had worked so hard to earn. Owen posts a photo on his social media. In the photo, Emma, my mate Owen, and my child Leo stand hand-in-hand in front of the wishing fountain in Central City, all smiling brightly. The caption reads: "A perfect trip, a perfect family of three." It is only then that I finally understand—this family exists in name only. It's time for me to rebuild my life.
Short Story · Werewolf
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letters that staved

letters that staved

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*
Romance
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Letters from the future

Letters from the future

Sixteen-year-old Ava never expected her future to show up in the form of a letter. When she discovers a mysterious envelope slipped under her bedroom door—written in handwriting that looks eerily like her own—she brushes it off as a cruel prank. But the message inside is impossible to ignore: Tomorrow, do not take the shortcut home. If you do, he will never wake up. The next day, Ava changes her routine. And in doing so, she prevents a tragedy that could have cost her best friend his life. More letters arrive, each warning her of choices she hasn’t made yet—choices that will unravel family secrets, test her friendships, and place her in the middle of a dangerous puzzle only she can solve. With every decision, Ava begins to wonder if the future she’s trying to protect is already written… or if she has the power to change it.
Mystery/Thriller
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Casei com o CEO Estéril, e Meu Ex Pirou

Casei com o CEO Estéril, e Meu Ex Pirou

Depois que minha irmã perdeu a lucidez, o noivado com a influente família Montelo caiu sobre mim. Acreditei que era um presente do destino: finalmente me casaria com Francisco, o garoto que meu coração amou desde sempre. Mas na noite de núpcias, fui deixada sozinha e virei motivo de riso em toda Cidade Antoril. Pior ainda: ao descobrir um segredo cruel da minha irmã, ela me matou. Jogou meu corpo como lixo, como se eu nunca tivesse existido. Mas o tempo, às vezes, nos dá uma segunda chance. Acordei no dia em que os destinos foram trocados. Francisco estava lá, ajoelhado diante da minha irmã confusa, beijando-lhe os dedos com devoção: — Bian, não importa como você esteja, você sempre será o amor da minha vida. Dessa vez, não hesitei. Virei as costas e aceitei o pedido de casamento de Leonardo Zuanetti — o CEO frio, inalcançável… e estéril. Mas Francisco enlouqueceu. Implorou para que eu voltasse. Tarde demais.
Short Story · Romance
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