LUNA EDITH
Bio
Writer, storyteller, and lifelong learner. I share thoughts on life, creativity, and everything in between. Here to connect, inspire, and grow — one story at a time.
Stories (270)
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Ugly Drafts
The first version was ugly. Not charming-ugly. Not raw but promising. Just ugly. The sentences tripped over themselves. The opening didn’t know where it was going. The ending arrived too early, like a guest who misunderstood the invitation. I stared at the screen the way you look at a mirror under bad lighting—too honest, too exposed, impossible to ignore.
By LUNA EDITH22 days ago in Writers
Cheap Dreams
Dreams are supposed to be expensive. That’s what the world teaches us early—dreams require money, time, connections, clean clothes, and a voice that doesn’t shake when you speak. Cheap dreams, on the other hand, are treated like insults. Like things you should be embarrassed to want.
By LUNA EDITH27 days ago in Humans
The Rally Between Waking and Dream
The Court at Dusk The court appeared where evening usually hides its quiet miracles—behind the old park, past the trees that whispered to each other like elders. The young man arrived with a single tennis ball in his pocket, not even a racket, as if he already knew this would not be a game governed by rules. The sky was bruised purple and gold, and the net sagged like a tired smile. He had come to think, to escape the noise of days that asked too much and gave too little.
By LUNA EDITHabout a month ago in Fiction
The Secret I Traded for a Wedding Ring
I am sitting in the third pew of a church that smells of lilies and expensive floor wax. In twenty minutes, I will walk down this aisle. I will look into Julian’s eyes, say "I do," and commit to a lifetime of honesty.
By LUNA EDITHabout a month ago in Confessions
The Bells That Rang Before the Fire
The city slept beneath stone and shadow, unaware that it was already remembered. Before dawn, the bells of Notre-Dame were still. They would not ring for hours. Paris lay hushed along the Seine, its bridges resting like old thoughts between two halves of itself. The cathedral rose at the heart of it all—familiar, immovable, trusted the way only ancient things are.
By LUNA EDITHabout a month ago in History
The Door Opened By Itself
The Night That Refused to Stay Quiet It happened on a night so ordinary it almost felt staged—rain tapping gently against the windows, the clock blinking 2:17 a.m., the world outside holding its breath. I was half-asleep, drifting between thoughts, when the silence changed. Not broke—changed. Silence has weight when it’s about to give way to something else.
By LUNA EDITHabout a month ago in Horror
Time Slipped
The grandfather clock in the hallway didn’t just chime; it groaned, a heavy metallic protest that echoed through the draughty floorboards of Blackwood Manor. Arthur checked his pocket watch—a silver heirloom that had been right twice a day for a century, but was currently spinning its hands like a propeller.
By LUNA EDITHabout a month ago in Journal
The Brain Doesn’t Forget
I was six years old when I first learned that the mind is a hoarder. My grandfather, a man who could remember the exact humidity of the day he returned from the war in 1945, once told me: "The brain is like a house with a locked basement. You might lose the key, but the furniture inside never leaves."
By LUNA EDITHabout a month ago in Psyche
The Gilded Cage and the Cobblestone King
The city of Oakhaven was divided by more than just a river; it was split by the cruel, invisible line of inheritance. On the East Bank sat the Vanderbilt Estate, a place of manicured marble and suffocating silence. This was the world of Isabella, a girl whose beauty was whispered about in ballrooms like a rare, fragile currency.
By LUNA EDITHabout a month ago in Poets
The General’s Tooth
History is often told through the polished lens of oil paintings and marble statues. We see George Washington as the stoic father of a nation, his jaw set in a firm, resolute line. But in the winter of 1783, as the American Revolution neared its end, that jaw was a site of excruciating, rotting agony.
By LUNA EDITHabout a month ago in History
