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390
2 weeks ago · Updated to #1
This is not your story
By SapoornaDedicationFor the ones who watched quietly.And for the ones who spoke when it mattered.PrefaceThere are stories that belong to everyone.And there are stories that belong to no one.This is not your story.It is mine.It is hers.It is a space between silence and sound.I didn’t write this for everyone.I wrote this for someone who needed it.If you are holding this, maybe it’s you.And maybe it’s not.But you are here now.That’s enough. 1Neel sat by the window again. He always did. As if it was some old habit, some ritual to remind himself that he was still breathing. His hands rested on the chipped wooden frame, his fingers tracing invisible maps on its surface. Outside, the world moved. People moved. Time moved. But Neel, he stayed still like a word caught between two pages, waiting to be read but never spoken aloud.He had learned to be silent long before he had learned to speak. Not the kind of silence that draws attention, but the sort that wraps around your existence like a second skin. It was not dramatic. It was not noticeable. It was mundane. The kind of silence that seeps into your bones until it feels natural. Until you forget what it was like to be heard.As a child, Neel was always called the quiet one. Teachers wrote it on his report cards. Relatives mentioned it like an apology when introducing him. "He’s quiet, but he’s good," they would say, as though the two things could not exist separately. No one ever asked why he was quiet. They didn’t need to. They had already written his story for him.But Neel didn’t want their story. He didn’t want their definitions.He grew up in a house where the clocks ticked louder than conversations. His mother hummed old songs in the kitchen, her voice soft and tired, as though she was singing to herself and not to the boy at the table. His father read the newspaper every evening with furrowed brows, shaking his head at things Neel didn’t understand. They loved him, he knew. But they didn’t know him. They loved the idea of him . their son, the boy who would make them proud one day.But he wasn’t proud of himself. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to be.In school, he sat in the corner of the classroom, always by the window, where the light could reach him even if no one else did. He was the boy who didn't raise his hand. Not because he didn't know the answer, but because he didn't see the point. They measured brilliance in ranks and percentages, and Neel had no interest in running races that felt rigged before they began.He spent his breaks alone, sketching in a small, worn notebook. His drawings weren’t pretty. They were messy and dark, full of shadows and crooked lines. But they were honest. More honest than he could ever be with words. The other boys played cricket. The girls huddled in corners, whispering secrets he was never meant to hear. And Neel? Neel drew worlds where no one asked him to be something he wasn’t.By the time he was sixteen, he had stopped trying to explain himself. He walked through life like a ghost, present but unseen. Teachers forgot his name during roll call. Friends drifted away like smoke through an open window. Even his parents spoke to him in instructions, not conversations.“Study harder.”“You can’t waste time like this.”“What will you do with your life?”He didn’t have answers for them. He wasn’t sure he wanted answers. He wasn’t sure if there were answers. All he had was the aching feeling that this life, this quiet existence, wasn’t meant for him.But he didn’t know how to leave it behind.Sometimes, he dreamed of other lives. Lives where he wasn’t Neel , the disappointment, the failure, the boy who never spoke enough. In these dreams, he was someone else entirely. A traveler. A storyteller. A painter who lived in Paris, sketching strangers in the streets, drinking coffee at tiny cafés. No one knew his past there. No one cared about his grades. He was just a boy who told stories, and that was enough.But morning always came, and with it, the suffocating weight of reality.The breakdown wasn’t dramatic. It never is. It was quiet, slow, like the gentle dripping of water that eventually cracks stone. He was sitting at his study table, textbooks open in front of him, when he realized he couldn’t breathe. His chest felt tight, his vision blurred, and his hands shook so violently he couldn’t hold his pen. He stared at the equations he was supposed to solve, but they meant nothing to him. Just numbers on a page. Symbols in a language he no longer understood.That night, he told his father he wanted to stop studying. Just for a while. Just to breathe.His father didn’t shout. He didn’t even raise his voice. He simply looked at Neel with an expression that said everything. Disappointment, shame, confusion. As though Neel had just confessed to being a stranger.His mother cried quietly in the kitchen.And Neel realized something that night. He would never be who they wanted him to be. No matter how hard he tried. No matter how much he broke himself apart to fit their expectations.He left a week later.He didn’t leave a note. There was nothing he could say that would make them understand. He packed a small bag , his sketchbook, some clothes, and the little money he had saved over the years. He took a train heading somewhere. Anywhere. He didn’t care. He just needed to leave.The city he arrived in was loud, chaotic, alive. The streets were crowded with people who didn’t look at him twice. He was invisible, but in a way that felt freeing. No one knew his story here. He could be anyone he wanted.He found work at a small bookstore. The owner didn’t ask questions. He just handed Neel a broom and told him to sweep the floors. Neel worked quietly. He arranged books on dusty shelves. He read when there were no customers. He drew when there was time.At night, he walked through the streets, sketching people he saw. Lovers sitting on benches. Old men playing chess. Children chasing stray dogs. No one cared who he was. No one asked him what he wanted to be.And for the first time, he felt like he was writing his own story.Months passed. He lost track of time. He stopped counting days. He lived quietly, simply. Some days were good. Some days were empty. But they were his days.One evening, he met a girl at the bookstore. She was buying an old copy of The Little Prince. She asked him if he had read it. He nodded.“Do you think he ever found his rose?” she asked.Neel thought for a long time before answering.“Maybe the rose wasn’t the point,” he said. “Maybe it was the journey.”She smiled. And for a moment, Neel felt like maybe he wasn’t alone.They met again. And again. She was kind. She listened. She didn’t ask him to be anything other than who he was. They talked about books, about places they wanted to visit, about dreams that didn’t make sense but felt important anyway.She told him her name was Mira. She told him she had run away too. Different reasons. Same ache.They sat by the sea one night, watching the waves crash against the rocks.“Do you ever miss it?” she asked.Neel shook his head.“There’s nothing to miss.”But he wasn’t sure if that was true. Sometimes, late at night, he still thought about his mother’s songs. His father’s quiet presence. The house where the clocks ticked too loudly.“You’ll go back,” Mira said softly.“One day.”Neel didn’t answer. He didn’t know if he believed in “one day.”But she was right. He went back.Not because he missed them. Not because he had something to prove. But because he was ready.He found his father sitting in the same chair, reading the same newspaper. His mother was humming in the kitchen. Nothing had changed. And yet, everything had.They looked at him like they were seeing him for the first time. He told them he was okay. That he was alive. That he had found something. Not success. Not brilliance. But something better. Himself.They didn’t understand. But they tried. And that was enough.Years later, Neel sat by another window. In another city. With another life.He wrote stories now. Stories about people who didn’t belong. Stories about boys who sat by windows and dreamed of leaving. Stories about girls who asked about roses. Stories about journeys that mattered more than destinations.His books weren’t bestsellers. But they found people who needed them. People like him.And sometimes, he thought about what he would tell his younger self.“This is not your story,” he would say.“But you can write it now.”And so he did.
118.6K
8 years ago · Updated to #119
210
1 week ago · Updated to #1
Isabella, seventeen, grew up in a single-mother household, where fairy tales were her escape. She dreamed of a storybook romance — meeting her prince charming, getting married, and raising little princes and princesses in a grand castle.
William, eighteen, came from what appeared to be a "happy" family. But behind closed doors, he despised the very notion of love. He loathed how it blinded people, pulling them away from reality. To him, marriage was often a hollow commitment — a decision made out of obligation for the sake of children, or the reckless belief that youthful love could last forever.
When Isabella and William cross paths, they form an instant friendship. For a while, it’s enough. But soon, Isabella finds herself falling for the one person incapable of loving her back. Desperate to move on, she searches for love elsewhere. When that fails, she devises a plan — one that will either help her forget William or make him believe in the same kind of love she’s always dreamed of.
923
1 hour ago · Updated to #7
Conflict is regarded by some as a poison that continually lays waste to mortal-kind. By others it is defined as the very life blood- the driving force that makes life evolve. Some may view it as both, essential like water though too much and one will surely pass. And for those whom this story began with, they might certainly argue that they've had far too much to drink.
Many an event has transpired over the course since this world's creation. It has been 17 years since ten came together to tell a tale within the realm of PSony-3 via the Home Lands. It has been 15 years since the start of the Warring States- the fall of kingdoms and the war of businesses, and of course the devastating guild wars of the Demonic Arms and the Cynder Alliance. 11 years since the Terminator Wars which culminated in the end of Home a decade ago. 9 years since the Dark Council and 8 since the Tatara Conflict. 7 since the notorious battle of Order and Chaos, 6 since the Reaper Insurrection alongside the Demon Rebellion. 5 years since the Tatara fell, and 4 since the last tale was told. And here we are, 2025, where the next chapter is about to unfold.
Though it has not been exclusively violence along the war. Many a character arc, many a bonding moment between allies, the formation of families, the games and tales shared between. Those with motivations of grandeur, those with desires of vengeance, those with plans to change the world itself, and those who... want to open a tea shop and sing songs on the beach? WHO WROTE THIS?!
A Fantasy DnD, minus the DnD, plus the writers, plus the community. A world where you can be anyone or anything, where anything is possible. A place for those wandering aimlessly with no insight or direction to what they want.
To you we say... Welcome Home~
World Anvil (Wiki) Link: https://www.worldanvil.com/w/soul-fall-astormsong
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[Vol 1 Synopsis]
Though the foundation of the world appears to be one of chaos, there does exist order. For decades, powerful orders have stood atop the world to preserve their fair share of peace and justice. Even as powers threatening their respective worlds raged forward, those under the protection of the Great Powers would not buckle. One such order is that of the Shadow Dominions, one which holds a special place in their heart for the 'lesser' races such as the Demonic. Regardless of their desire to crusade and take more of the demon lands, few powers in history have successfully challenged the full might of the Dominions... though in recent times, tragedy has befallen the order.
With the loss of Shadow Blackheart, head of both it and the Blackheart family- the loss of his cabinet and top leaders to unknown circumstance. With the deaths of several of his heirs, including the infamous Zero Blackheart and the next-in-line Leo Blackheart. With the failed coordination as the juggernaut moves so clumsily to maintain itself without a proper head. With all of it together, the future of the Dominion's hold appears bleak.
Already foreign powers and smaller factions make their plays to take territory and assets from the Dominions, and the protection of peace upheld by the group has all but disappeared as they struggle to hold on. With rivals and far far smaller yet significantly vile powers vying for control, what will befall those caught in the crossfire? The movement of rivals like the Legion of the Stars and the United Dimension Federation, the return of powerful guilds like the Demonic Arms and the Unending Empire, the threats of long-since-silent adversaries to the common people within the Demon Worlds and outside... what the future holds is nothing but uncertainty.
With the power balance disrupted, those who live within the fragile system will have to navigate carefully to avoid their own destruction.
161
8 hours ago · Updated to #8
109.2K
1 year ago · Updated to #58
When clouds in the sky and falling rain tease the two close friends in trouble, Rain and Sky, it takes them to meet Payu and Prapai, who are not only cunning saviours but also guys making storms in the two best friends' hearts. The war of love is about to take place in the warm spring, hot summer, lonely autumn and cold winter. How would the atmosphere of love be? Which way would their hearts wave and the air full of love take them to?
116
5 days ago · Updated to #1
On the night the rain fell relentlessly like tears from the sky, Alyssa found herself standing by the edge of the forest, her heart heavy with guilt and regret. The memory of that fateful summer night haunted her, the sound of thunder masking her cries as she made a decision she would forever carry the weight of. The rain had been a fitting backdrop to the darkness that enveloped her that night. Alyssa's hands were trembling as she clutched the phone, her green eyes reflecting the fear that gripped her soul.
1.4K
3 days ago · Updated to #16
In the heart of the Sahara Desert, where only whispers of the past echo across the endless dunes, lies the forgotten kingdom of Dungu-a once-vibrant realm blessed with lush vegetation, shimmering gold, and life-giving waters. Two decades ago, the land thrived under the watchful eyes of sun and land gods, their powers harnessed by the people for prosperity and abundance. But as the flames of greed ignited, the kingdom crumbled, burying its secrets beneath the shifting sands of time.
Fast forward to 2025, a diverse group of history students embarks on an adventurous trip to explore the Sahara desert. Among them are Ewe Rose, a resourceful young woman with dreams of a brighter future, Nandi Gutt, a spirited girl, Renny Smith, an American exchange student with depression and a secret story, and Edi Danny, a local boy whose heritage is steeped in the tales of the desert.
When a chance encounter with the remnants of the kingdom awakens the long-dormant powers of the land and sun gods, the four friends find themselves imbued with incredible abilities: the power to summon rain, healing, teleportion cultivate flourishing crops, and unearth precious minerals hidden beneath the surface. United by their newfound gifts but burdened by the weight of Dungu's past, they must navigate the complexities of their powers and the responsibilities that come with them.
As they unravel the secrets of Dungu, the group faces challenges that test their friendships, courage, and understanding of their place in the world. They must confront the shadows of greed that once toppled the kingdom and learn that true wealth lies not in riches, but in harmony with nature and each other.
🌟All rights reserved.
3.0K
8 hours ago · Updated to #11
For 21 years, he worked in the shadows, carving a path through corruption, betrayal, and blood, all in search of his sister.When the truth shattered his world—that the very company he served had torn his family apart—Ronin destroyed it, but lost everything in the process.
Now, Ronin finds himself in a strange new world, brought there by Drax, the Mighty Dragon God, who sacrificed himself to summon him. But Ronin is no ordinary being—he has yet to realize his latent origins and powers.After traveling for a while, he finds himself in the care of a dwarf… named Warzheil and Drax's daughter, Gloria.
He seeks no war, no throne—only peace.But fate has other plans, and in this world of swords and spirits, peace may be the hardest battle of all.
Weekly 1 chapter will be uploaded.And 1000 views = +1 chapter
27
2 days ago · Updated to #1
26
9 hours ago · Updated to #2
Platform OverviewQuotev is a creative platform for quizzes, stories, surveys, and polls, founded in 20082. It allows users to publish works, share updates, and interact via activity posts or groups2.
User DemographicsThe site has a minimum age requirement of 13, but a 2024 poll indicates most users are 12 and under2. This suggests the platform is popular among younger audiences.
Content ModerationUsers report inconsistent enforcement of guidelines, particularly regarding explicit content2. While the site prohibits certain material, moderation efforts appear limited2.
AlternativesPlatforms like Wattpad, DeviantArt, and Movellasoffer similar features for writers, though none directly address Quotev’s chapter/word limits1.
58
2 days ago · Updated to #4
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