Aria D’Souza The Letter in the Library Ayush wasn’t looking for anything that day—not really. It was the kind of Tuesday that smelled of old paper and felt like chalk dust on your skin. The school library was nearly empty, just as he liked it. A few juniors whispered near the computer terminals, someone yawned into a reference book, and the librarian dozed with a magazine on her lap. Ayush wandered between the shelves like a ghost with no one to haunt. He didn’t have many friends, not the kind who waited for him at lunch or texted him stupid…
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Advika Nair Chapter 1: The morning bell rang with the familiar sharp clang that echoed across the corridors of St. Mary’s High School, announcing the beginning of another Wednesday, another series of classes, and another chance for students to shuffle into their assigned seats like the pieces of a living, breathing jigsaw puzzle. In Class 10-B, the usual rush was on—bags thudding onto desks, notebooks flipping open, and voices rising in a soft chaos of teenage chatter. Amid it all, Riya Sen hurried into the room, her hair tied in a slightly crooked ponytail, her blue-and-white uniform neatly ironed, and…
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Ira Chatterjee Chapter 1: The Summer Arrival The train pulled into Windmere Station with a long metallic sigh, as if reluctant to stop in a town so still it barely seemed to breathe. Sophie McAllister pressed her nose to the smudged glass of the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the place she’d be calling home for the next eight weeks. All she saw were pine trees, cloaked in mist, standing like silent watchers on the hills. She didn’t want to be here. Not in this forgotten town with no cinemas, no internet, and certainly no friends. London was…
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Shreya Gupta The attic was a treasure trove of memories. Dust particles danced in the sunlight filtering through the small window. Emma opened an old box labeled “Summer 2010” and smiled as she sifted through its contents. Amidst the photographs and trinkets, a familiar shape caught her eye. A paper plane, slightly crumpled but intact. Unfolding it carefully, she read the faded words: “No matter where we go, we’ll always have this.” Her heart skipped a beat. Memories of lazy summer days, laughter, and whispered secrets under the old oak tree flooded back. “Jake,” she whispered. — Willow Creek was…