Read Short Stories by Fatima Zahra EL hajji (L•TimA) | Bluwr.

3: [Short Stories #2] Don't Extinguish my Flame 6212

Tima EL, 2 y.

- Short Stories -

1.7 min read.

*Authors : Tima EL & Khalil Z.* **In the enchanted realm of Celestria, where every soul possesses a mystical flame known as "Eclipsis," the sky dances with the collective radiance of its people. Amidst this luminous symphony, a shadowy force emerges—a darkness that hungers to shroud the brilliance of these magical flames.** Enter the Shadowvores, inhabitants of Celestria who are denied the embrace of Eclipsis. Instead, they bear formidable and robust bodies, enhancing their strength by absorbing and extinguishing the radiant Eclipsis flames of others. They embody the antithesis of Celestria, disrupting the delicate balance upheld by the natural ebb and flow of magical flames. With each extinguished Eclipsis flame, the once-vibrant light of Celestria wanes. At the heart of Celestria lies the Arcane Ember, the source of all Eclipsis flames. The people of Celestria engage in an eternal struggle against the Shadowvores, who crave this magical ember, bestowing absolute power upon its possessor. One fateful day, the Shadowweavers decide to launch a collective assault on the Celestrians, intent on seizing the Arcane Ember—the fount of unparalleled power. The consequence is grave: all the valiant inhabitants of Celestria succumb to the relentless onslaught. Remaining alone in Celestria, the Shadowvores start to vie for the coveted Arcane Ember. One Shadowweaver, thirsting for power driven by an insatiable hunger, stands before the radiant artifact, proclaiming,* "This is the flame I've been waiting for a long time."* The mystical ember responds with ancient wisdom, saying,* "And I, too, have awaited your presence for a long time."* Perplexed, the Shadowvore questions,* "You've been waiting for me?"* The Arcane Ember imparts a timeless truth,* "With every day's end, the night descends, and in the darkness, a promise lingers — after every night's embrace, the day invariably returns."* Determined to cast Celestria into eternal darkness, the Shadowvore retorts,* "The night in Celestria will never dawn."* In a plea to preserve its luminance, the Arcane Ember urges,* "Don't extinguish my flame."* Undeterred, the Shadowvore declares, *"You are the last beacon of light in my darkness. My strength won't reach its zenith if I don't extinguish you."* The Arcane Ember, embodying the essence of duality, counters, *" Do you think your strength will have meaning after extinguishing me?"* Undeterred by the wisdom offered, the Shadowvore remains steadfast in their resolve. *"I care not for the meaning of strength. I crave power, dominance, and the eternal night that shall reign over Celestria,"* they declare with an ominous intensity. The Arcane Ember's voice resonates with a potent echo,* "In your pursuit of power, you risk losing the very foundation of existence. Celestria thrives on the delicate dance between opposites. Darkness needs light, just as strength needs meaning. Without balance, your power becomes an empty void. Let the day dawn again."* A profound silence envelops the realm of Celestria as the clash between light and darkness reaches its zenith, echoing through the magical tapestry of this enchanted world.... Note : "The link below contains the image that is the source of inspiration for writing this short story :) "

drive.google.com/file/d/1UMTqnOD...

4: [Short Stories #3] Awaiting You 6395

Tima EL, 2 y.

- Short Stories -

1 min read.

Royal Gambit is an annual event organized by the Cogitaria realm to select its new king. The game involves a chess match between two participants: the candidate and the reigning king. The coveted prize is a tiger mask crown, symbolizing royal authority. The victor ascends to the throne as the new king, while the defeated succumbs to their demise. For over decades, the throne of Cogitaria has remained unchallenged, as fear of the perilous stakes in the Royal Gambit game dissuades potential contenders. Each year, the reigning king eagerly awaits a challenger, yet no brave soul steps forward to partake in the high-stakes game, leaving the kingdom in a prolonged state of suspense. However, amidst this prolonged era of unchallenged rule, an exception emerged during one of the annual Cogitaria festivals dedicated to selecting the new king through the Royal Gambit. A stranger, passing through the realm, caught wind of the festivities that had lingered for more than a week, awaiting a candidate brave enough to face the reigning monarch. Intrigued by the mysterious allure of the event, the stranger decided to step into the fray. As the chessboard opened after decades of dormancy, each piece took its rightful place, setting the stage for the Royal Gambit to commence. The chess pieces clicked and clacked, echoing the strategic dance that would ultimately decide the kingdom's destiny. With a masterful stroke, the stranger executed a climactic checkmate, the chess pieces freezing in place as the kingdom held its breath. Victory was claimed, and the once-elusive tiger mask crown now adorned the head of the triumphant stranger. *“Every narrative in life has its genesis and conclusion. Time is the only constant, and no one is immortal within their kingdom. The realm awaits the stranger's next move, recognizing that even in victory, the cycle of change and challenge remains an inevitable force.”* Inspired by this image :

drive.google.com/file/d/1Bvk_tj9...

5: [Short Stories #4 ] A Red Flower Among the Ice [1/3] 13775

Fatima Zahra EL hajji (Tima EL), 4 mon.

- Short Stories -

2 min read.

The radio crackled softly in the dim kitchen, the announcer’s voice steady but tinged with concern. “This week, heavy snow is expected. Please be careful if you must travel and …” Karl was busy on the living room floor, toy cars rattling loudly in his hands as they scattered across the rug. His father, standing in the kitchen doorway, raised a hand gently. “Karl, please, not so much noise. I want to listen to what they’re saying on the radio.” “Sorry, Dad,” Karl muttered, setting one of his cars aside, his brow furrowed with boredom. Their mother entered, phone pressed to her ear, a tired sigh escaping her lips. “No classes this week,” she announced. Karl groaned, “Another boring week stuck at home.” “Dinner’s ready,” his mother called, her voice breaking the silence. “Come eat before it gets cold.” Karl trudged to the table, the long winter night stretching out before him—cold and quiet, just like the thick ice blanketing the world beyond their windows. The house felt suspended in time, the wind whistling now and then, the only other sound the gentle hum of the old radio. Outside, street lamps cast faint halos through frosted glass. The days passed slowly, one blending into the next, each wrapped in an endless layer of white. The world outside seemed to hold its breath, every noise muffled by the heavy snow. Streets once filled with color and movement were now hushed and blank, as if time itself had frozen. At last, on the final day of the week, their mother opened a window wide. “Look,” she whispered. “The snow has stopped. It’s beautiful today.” Karl hurried to her side, eyes wide as he peered out. The garden glistened beneath the weak morning sun, untouched except for delicate patterns of frost sparkling quietly. “Can I go outside? Just for a little while?” Karl pleaded, his hope unmistakable. His mother smiled softly. “Okay, but dress warmly—and don’t go too far.” Bundled up in scarf and mittens, Karl stepped outside, his breath clouding in the crisp air. He clutched his favorite toy car, venturing into the silent, frozen yard. Everywhere he looked, white shimmered—nature itself seemed on the verge of beginning anew. Suddenly, amid the endless white, a surprising splash of color caught his eye. “What’s that?” Karl whispered. Moving closer, he saw it: a single brave red flower pushing through the icy crust, vivid and alive against the snow. Its petals tilted upward, reaching as if to catch every drop of sunlight. The sight filled Karl with wonder. “So beautiful,” he murmured. “What are you doing here, all alone?” He circled the flower, curiosity mounting. He didn’t understand how anything so small, so delicate, could survive here. “I’ll take you home with me,” he decided. Gently, he cupped his hands to pull the flower free—but it didn’t budge. Its roots, deep within the ice, held fast. Karl tried again, but it remained stubbornly in place. Disappointed and hungry, the little boy picked up his toy car and made his way back indoors. That evening, as the family gathered for dinner, his mother asked, “Karl, how was your walk today? You didn’t say anything when you came inside.” Karl hesitated, then replied quietly, “I found a red flower growing in the ice.” Everyone laughed. His father teased, “Poor flower, it must be freezing out there!” They chuckled, but Karl was stung. No one believed what he’d seen. After dinner, the house quieted once more. The family went to bed, the next day would be the start of a new week—school would resume. Morning came. Karl’s mother called up the stairs, “Karl, time to get up for school!” No answer. She climbed to his room. Karl was not in the room…

6: [Short Stories #4 ] A Red Flower Among the Ice [2/3] 5572

Fatima Zahra EL hajji (L•TimA), 2 mon.

- Short Stories -

1.5 min read.

The door creaked open softly, and she paused, turning back just long enough to catch his eyes, a fleeting moment charged with unspoken meaning. She watched him carefully, her expression a blend of surprise and gentle curiosity, then spoke with quiet tenderness, “What do you hold in your hands, Karl?” He raised his small hand slowly, revealing a vivid red flower resting softly against his palm. “Look,” he said, his smile tender and warm, “it’s a beautiful red flower.” Lila reached out, her hands cupping the delicate bloom as if shielding a fragile flame, her warmth seeming to ignite the fiery petals. Karl’s voice trembled a little when he said, “It’s for you.” Lila lowered her head, her eyes searching his, heavy with a sadness too deep for words. “What’s wrong?” she whispered. His gaze dropped to the floor, as though the weight of his next words could only be carried there. “The military… they’re sending me away, to the far north. For a whole year. And I can’t take you with me.” Her voice wavered, trying to stay steady, but a soft sigh escaped. “Come, Karl. Let’s plant it in our garden.” With quick steps, Lila led the way outside, carrying the flower gently in her hands. Karl followed behind, his steps slow and hesitant. They stopped in the center of the garden, where a bare patch of earth waited beneath the pale sunlight. Kneeling, Lila loosened the cold soil with her fingers as carefully as if touching a newborn’s skin. She placed the flower into its new home and pressed the earth softly around its roots. Then, with a small watering can, she poured cool droplets like a quiet blessing, nurturing the flicker of life buried deep in the soil. Karl stood still, watching her with quiet eyes. Then, with a faint smile, he said, “It looks even more beautiful now. You’ve given it new life.” Brushing her fingertips across the shining petals, Lila whispered, “My flower and I will wait for you, no matter how long it takes.” Karl’s promise was soft but certain. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.” Later, the car door closed with a gentle thud. Karl climbed inside and began his journey northward, the world outside growing smaller with every mile. Lila watched until the car was nothing more than a fading speck on the horizon. Then she turned back, closing the door behind her. Day after day, spring after spring, the roots of the red flower stretched deep into the earth, holding tightly to the soil, keeping the promise alive. The winters were harsh, cold biting against both flower and keeper. Though every effort was made to keep it alive, the warm hands that planted the blossom grew cold in time, but still the flower endured.