shortstory

Stuxnet is a highly sophisticated computer worm that was discovered in June 2010. It is widely believed to be a jointly developed cyberweapon by the United States and Israel, although neither country has officially confirmed its involvement. Here's a summary of what is known about Stuxnet: Targeted Systems: Stuxnet was designed to target supervisory control and data acquisition (SCADA) systems, particularly those used in industrial facilities such as nuclear enrichment plants. Its primary target was Iran's nuclear program, specifically the Natanz uranium enrichment facility. Infection Method: Stuxnet spread through infected USB drives and network shares, exploiting multiple zero-day vulnerabilities in the Microsoft Windows operating system. Once inside a system, it searched for Siemens Step7 software, commonly used in SCADA systems, and targeted vulnerabilities in the software to gain control over industrial programmable logic controllers (PLCs). Payload: Stuxnet's payl

The villagers thought John was an unusual child, and his mother agreed. He was imaginative and prone to day dreams. He’s drawn to the sea, and wants to leave his small Florida village when he grows up. John’s mother is against it but his father is supportive. When the time comes, John is determined to go. While waiting, he meets Stella and unexpectedly gets married, which puts his plans on hold.

Nibley is an old man with the remarkable ability to sense the orbits and trajectories of moving objects. He also has a reputation as a drinker. The ship TERRA has to take off for Jupiter immediately and his services might be needed.

In the quaint town of Willowbrook, where the whispering willows danced with the wind, there lived a girl named Sonam. Her laughter echoed through the cobblestone streets, and her eyes sparkled like the stars that adorned the midnight sky. But beneath her radiant exterior lay a heart burdened by the weight of unspoken dreams and untold truths. Enter Pravine, a soul as enigmatic as the moonlight that bathed the town in its ethereal glow. With a heart forged from the depths of darkness and light, he wandered through life, searching for meaning amidst the chaos of existence. Their paths crossed one fateful summer evening, beneath the ancient oak tree that stood as a sentinel to their shared destiny. From the moment their eyes met, an invisible thread wove its way between them, binding their souls inextricably together. But theirs was not a love story written in the stars. It was a tale of beginnings and endings, of love found and lost, of moments cherished and forgotten. As their love blos

In the heart of bustling Mumbai, where dreams danced in the shadows of skyscrapers, there lived a girl named Priya. With eyes like the ocean and a smile that could light up the darkest night, she wandered through life, searching for something more. Priya's world collided with Sachin's on a balmy evening at a local café. He was a brooding artist, his soul painted with the hues of passion and longing. From the moment their eyes met, an invisible thread wove its way between them, binding their fates inextricably together. But theirs was not a love story destined for the pages of fairy tales. Sachin bore the weight of a painful past, his heart guarded by walls of doubt and fear. He pushed Priya away, believing himself unworthy of her love, while she fought tirelessly to break through the barriers he had erected around his soul. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, as Priya's love for Sachin only grew stronger with each passing moment. She remained steadfast in her dev

As the moon cast its pale glow over the imposing facade of St. Augustine's Boarding School, a sense of foreboding lingered in the crisp night air. Among the new arrivals to the school was young Ethan, a bright-eyed boy eager to embark on his academic journey in a new hostel. Excitement tinged with nervousness filled Ethan's heart as he stepped into his sparsely furnished dorm room. The stale scent of aged wood and musty air greeted him, and he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched by unseen eyes. Night after night, Ethan found himself plagued by restless dreams, visions of shadowy figures lurking in the corners of his room, whispering sinister secrets that chilled him to the bone. At first, he brushed them off as mere figments of his imagination, the result of stress and unfamiliar surroundings. But as the days turned into weeks, Ethan's once cheerful demeanor began to wane. Dark circles formed under his eyes, and his classmates whispered of his increasingly errat

In a quaint little town nestled amidst rolling hills and ancient forests, there stood a small cottage at the edge of the woods. This cottage had a history, whispered about in hushed tones among the townsfolk, for it was said to be haunted by the spirits of a family who once lived there. The tale began many years ago when the McGregor family, consisting of a mother, father, and their young daughter named Emily, moved into the cottage seeking solace from the bustling city life. They hoped to find peace in the tranquil surroundings of the countryside. At first, life seemed idyllic for the McGregors. Emily, a curious and adventurous child, spent her days exploring the woods, her laughter echoing through the trees. But as the days turned into weeks, strange occurrences began to plague the family. Late at night, they would hear eerie whispers echoing through the halls of the cottage, whispers that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Emily would wake up in the middle of th

[Note—This is not a fancy sketch. I got it from a clergyman who was an instructor at Woolwich forty years ago, and who vouched for its truth.— M.T.] It was at a banquet in London in honor of one of the two or three conspicuously illustrious English military names of this generation. For reasons which will presently appear, I will withhold his real name and titles, and call him Lieutenant General Lord Arthur Scoresby, V.C., K.C.B., etc., etc., etc. What a fascination there is in a renowned name! There sat the man, in actual flesh, whom I had heard of so many thousands of times since that day, thirty years before, when his name shot suddenly to the zenith from a Crimean battlefield, to remain forever celebrated. It was food and drink to me to look, and look, and look at that demigod; scanning, searching, noting: the quietness, the reserve, the noble gravity of his countenance; the simple honesty that expressed itself all over him; the sweet unconsciousness of his greatness—un

Rappannock River, in Virginia, used to be vexed with shadowy craft that some of the populace affirmed to be no boats, but spirits in disguise. One of these apparitions was held in fear by the Democracy of Essex County, as it was believed to be a forerunner of Republican victory. The first recorded appearance of the vessel was shortly after the Civil War, on the night of a Democratic mass-meeting at Tappahannock. There were music, refreshments, and jollity, and it was in the middle of a rousing speech that a man in the crowd cried, "Look, fellows! What is that queer concern going down the river?" The people moved to the shore, and by the light of their torches a hulk was seen drifting with the stream--a hulk of fantastic form unlike anything that sails there in the daytime. As it came opposite the throng, the torchlight showed gigantic negroes who danced on deck, showing horrible faces to the multitude. Not a sound came from the barge, the halloos of the spectato

 In the room of one of my friends hangs a mirror. It is an oblong sheet of glass, set in a frame of dark, highly varnished wood, carved in the worst taste of the Regency period, and relieved with faded gilt. Glancing at it from a distance, you would guess the thing a relic from some "genteel" drawing-room of Miss Austen's time. But go nearer and look into the glass itself. By some malformation or mere freak of make, all the images it throws back are livid. Flood the room with sunshine; stand before this glass with youth and hot blood tingling on your cheeks; and the glass will give back neither sun nor colour; but your own face, blue and dead, and behind it a horror of inscrutable shadow. Since I heard this mirror's history, I have stood more than once and twice before it, and peered into this shadow. And these are the simulacra I seem to have seen there darkly. I have seen a bleak stone parsonage, hemmed in on two sides by a grave-yard; and behind for m

 [Dedicated With very kind regards to old Mr. John Taylor, Who "thinks he might pass as a dormouse," (Three years in bed and never a grumble!).] Once upon a time there was a village shop. The name over the window was "Ginger and Pickles." It was a little small shop just the right size for Dolls-- Lucinda and Jane Doll-cook always bought their groceries at Ginger and Pickles. The counter inside was a convenient height for rabbits. Ginger and Pickles sold red spotty pocket handkerchiefs at a penny three farthings. They also sold sugar, and snuff and galoshes. In fact, although it was such a small shop it sold nearly everything-- except a few things that you want in a hurry--like bootlaces, hair- pins and mutton chops. Ginger and Pickles were the people who kept the shop. Ginger was a yellow tomcat, and Pickles was a terrier. The rabbits were always a little bit afraid of Pickles. The shop was also patronized by mice--only the mice were rather afraid of Ginger.

My Little Darling: So you are crying from morning until night and from night until morning, because your husband leaves you; you do not know what to do and so you ask your old aunt for advice; you must consider her quite an expert. I don't know as much as you think I do, and yet I am not entirely ignorant of the art of loving, or, rather, of making one's self loved, in which you are a little lacking. I can admit that at my age. You say that you are all attention, love, kisses and caresses for him. Perhaps that is the very trouble; I think you kiss him too much. My dear, we have in our hands the most terrible power in the world: LOVE. Man is gifted with physical strength, and he exercises force. Woman is gifted with charm, and she rules with caresses. It is our weapon, formidable and invincible, but we should know how to use it. Know well that we are the mistresses of the world! To tell the history of Love from the beginning of the world would be to tell the history of

 By the double crest of my fowl, and by the rose lining of my sweetheart's slipper! By all the horns of well-beloved cuckolds, and by the virtue of their blessed wives! the finest work of man is neither poetry, nor painted pictures, nor music, nor castles, nor statues, be they carved never so well, nor rowing, nor sailing galleys, but children. Understand me, children up to the age of ten years, for after that they become men or women, and cutting their wisdom teeth, are not worth what they cost; the worst are the best. Watch them playing, prettily and innocently, with slippers; above all, cancellated ones, with the household utensils, leaving that which displeases them, crying after that which pleases them, munching the sweets and confectionery in the house, nibbling at the stores, and always laughing as soon as their teeth are cut, and you will agree with me that they are in every way lovable; besides which they are flower and fruit--the fruit of love, the flower of l

A soldier, who had won imperishable fame on the battlefields of his country, was confronted by a gaunt stranger, clad all in black and wearing an impenetrable mask. "Who are you that you dare to block my way?" demanded the soldier. Then the stranger drew aside his mask, and the soldier knew that he was Death. "Have you come for me?" asked the soldier. "If so, I will not go with you; so go your way alone." But Death held out his bony hand and beckoned to the soldier. "No," cried the soldier, resolutely; "my time is not come. See, here are the histories I am writing--no hand but mine can finish them--I will not go till they are done!" "I have ridden by your side day and night," said Death; "I have hovered about you on a hundred battlefields, but no sight of me could chill your heart till now, and now I hold you in my power. Come!" And with these words Death seized upon the soldier and strove to bear him