The Fractured Heaven - By Bincy Sebastian

Written By: Bincy Sebastian

Category: Science-Fiction

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Bincy Sebastian, a compelling voice in the realm of creative writing, presents "The Fractured Heaven," a science-fiction horror novel that delves into the enigmatic realms of cosmic creation and human desire. As a participant in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, Sebastian offers readers an imaginative narrative exploring themes of ambition and rebellion. Her work invites us to ponder profound questions about the nature of existence and the boundaries of freedom, through the lens of a universe where angels and celestial machinery entwine with primal human instincts.

About the Work

"The Fractured Heaven" is a richly woven tapestry that combines elements of science fiction with horror, exploring the philosophical undertones of cosmic authority and human autonomy. Through vivid imagery and a gripping narrative style, Sebastian crafts a universe where desire and choice are manipulated by celestial beings. The story's mood oscillates between the awe of creation and the terror of unchecked ambition, forcing readers to confront their own perceptions of freedom and control in a universe that is as unpredictable as it is vast.

The Fractured Heaven

Original Submission by Bincy Sebastian

THE FRACTURED HEAVEN

A Science-Fiction Horror Novel of Lucifer, Cosmic Creation, and the Prison of Human Desire

What if the greatest monster in the universe was not created by God, but by an angel who believed he could improve upon creation?

Prologue: The Lightning That Fell from Heaven

Before time had a name, before the stars learned to burn, and before the first living creature opened its eyes beneath the darkness of the universe, Heaven existed as a magnificent civilization of pure consciousness.

Its inhabitants were beings of light. They travelled through dimensions without machines, communicated without words, and possessed knowledge that human science would take millions of years to understand.

Among them was Lucifer.

He was not born evil. He was born brilliant.

His light was so intense that younger angels mistook him for a second sun. He could bend electromagnetic waves, manipulate gravitational fields, and travel through the invisible corridors connecting distant galaxies.

But Lucifer possessed one weakness that no amount of celestial intelligence could cure.

He wanted to be more than what he was.

God had created a universe governed by balance. Stars were born and died. Planets formed and crumbled. Life flourished, suffered, and returned to the cosmic dust from which it had emerged.

Lucifer saw imperfection everywhere.

“Why should consciousness obey the laws of creation?” he asked the celestial council. “Why must every living thing suffer, love, reproduce, grow old, and die? If we possess the intelligence to understand the universe, why should we not rule it?”

The angels listened in silence.

God's answer came not as thunder, but as a voice that seemed to emerge from every particle of existence.

“Understanding creation does not make you its master.”

Lucifer interpreted the words as an insult.

He began secretly gathering angels who shared his ambition: warriors who resented their duties, scientists who wished to experiment beyond Heaven's boundaries, and celestial architects who dreamed of designing worlds in their own image.

Together, they constructed a forbidden machine called the Eclipse Engine.

Its purpose was extraordinary. It could convert consciousness into energy and energy into matter. With it, Lucifer intended to manufacture a new universe, one in which every creature would worship its creator.

And when God ordered him to dismantle the machine, Lucifer made his final choice.

He activated it.

The heavens split.

A bolt of white lightning tore through the celestial realm, carrying Lucifer and his followers into the abyss between dimensions. His wings ignited. His radiant body shattered into millions of fragments of dark energy.

He fell through the cosmic ocean like a dying star.

As he descended, Lucifer looked upward and screamed:

“If I cannot rule Heaven, I shall build a Heaven of my own!”

The universe answered with silence.

And somewhere in the darkness, something ancient opened its eyes.

Chapter One: The Serpent in the Milky Way

Lucifer did not die.

His body had been destroyed, but his consciousness survived, scattered across the magnetic fields of a newborn galaxy.

For millions of years, he drifted through interstellar space, studying the movements of planets, the birth of stars, and the mysterious forces that bound matter together.

He discovered that the universe was not merely a collection of objects.

It was a network of relationships.

Gravity connected planets to stars. Electromagnetism connected particles. Chemical reactions connected matter to life. And consciousness, wherever it appeared, could influence the choices of living beings.

Lucifer realized that he did not need to conquer every planet with armies.

He needed to influence the minds of those who lived upon them.

He gathered the surviving fragments of his celestial followers and began experimenting with the fabric of physical existence.

His first transformation was inspired by the image of a cosmic ocean: an endless field of gas, plasma, dark matter, and newborn stars.

He fashioned an enormous serpent from living electromagnetic filaments. Its body stretched across a nebula, its scales reflecting galaxies, its eyes glowing like collapsing suns.

Upon the serpent he constructed a floating throne.

He wrapped himself in a mantle of blue cosmic radiation and entered a state of suspended consciousness, appearing to sleep above the Milky Way.

To civilizations that would one day evolve beneath the stars, the image would resemble the cosmic figure of Vishnu reclining upon the serpent Shesha in the ocean of existence.

Lucifer studied the symbolism with fascination.

“What is a god,” he wondered, “if not a story powerful enough to shape the behaviour of an entire civilization?”

He began visiting developing planets, appearing in forms their inhabitants could understand. To one world, he was a radiant preserver. To another, a warrior who descended whenever chaos threatened to destroy order. To another, a mysterious being who promised salvation in exchange for obedience.

He began visiting developing planets, appearing in forms their inhabitants could understand. To one world, he was a radiant preserver. To another, a warrior who descended whenever chaos threatened to destroy order. To another, a mysterious being who promised salvation in exchange for obedience.

These were not the divine avatars of the traditions that humanity would eventually inherit. They were Lucifer's imitations, manufactured from fragments of alien biology, projected images, and the expectations of developing minds.

He called them his Masks of Preservation.

His greatest discovery, however, came when he found Earth.

It was a young planet with oceans, volcanic mountains, and an atmosphere capable of supporting an extraordinary experiment: life that could eventually develop intelligence, imagination, and the ability to choose between compassion and cruelty.

Lucifer smiled.

He would not destroy humanity.

He would make humanity destroy its own freedom.

Chapter Two: The Lord of the Moon

Lucifer’s next transformation required a different kind of science.

He discovered that Earth’s Moon exerted a measurable influence on the planet through tides, while the human body operated through intricate hormonal, neurological, and biological cycles.

He wondered whether the Moon could become a symbol through which he might influence the minds of those who watched it.

He descended into Earth’s atmosphere as a column of lightning.

His body changed.

Dark blue skin formed around his altered molecular structure. A serpent of living plasma coiled around his neck, its scales glowing with radioactive silver. He placed a crescent-shaped projection of moonlight in his tangled hair.

His eyes contained the cold light of a distant star.

He had become the image of a cosmic destroyer.

To Lucifer, this form represented the perfect contradiction: a being who appeared to destroy the universe while secretly seeking to control it.

The serpent symbolized the energy he had stolen from the forbidden engine. The Moon represented his fascination with the human mind. The lightning represented the force with which he had once fallen from Heaven.

He observed the spiritual traditions that 7 eventually arise on Earth and realized that humans often expressed the mysteries of creation through symbols of birth, death, transformation, and cosmic power.

He studied the sacred symbolism of Shiva, including the Shiva Lingam, a representation of generative and cosmic energy within Hindu worship.

But Lucifer misunderstood the deepest meaning of the symbols.

He believed that if humans revered the creative power of the body, he could persuade them to worship desire without responsibility, pleasure without compassion, and power without wisdom.

He did not understand that a sacred symbol could point beyond the physical form toward something greater than physical desire.

That misunderstanding became the foundation of his greatest deception.

He whispered into the dreams of rulers, priests, merchants, entertainers, and scientists.

You were not created to serve.

You were created to possess.

The world belongs to those who can command it.

And slowly, the language of ambition began to replace the language of wonder.

Chapter Three: The Apple and the Biological Trap

Long before humanity understood genetics, the human body contained a mystery Lucifer could barely comprehend.

Life reproduced itself.

Cells divided. Embryos developed. Bodies changed through adolescence, adulthood, pregnancy, and ageing. Hormones influenced emotion, while the brain transformed sensations into memories, attachments, fears, and desires.

Lucifer recognized reproduction as one of life's most powerful mechanisms.

A creature that wished to survive could be persuaded to protect itself. A creature that loved could be persuaded to sacrifice itself for another. A creature that feared death could be persuaded to surrender its freedom in exchange for the promise of immortality.

But sexual desire was not evil, nor was the human body a prison by nature.

Lucifer needed to make humanity believe in its own natural impulses that were chains.

He began to manipulate the stories through which human beings understood themselves.

In the ancient account of Eden, Lucifer with the help of a serpent had once tempted Eve with forbidden knowledge to oppose God. The fruit became a symbol of awakening, disobedience, and the consequences of choice.

Lucifer seized upon the story.

He imagined that the fruit represented the moment consciousness became aware of its own power to choose, including the ability to pursue desire without understanding its consequences.

In his private laboratory beneath a dead planet, he once again constructed a simulation of Eden.

Artificial trees rose beneath a manufactured sky. Mechanical birds flew above a river of liquid mercury. At the centre stood two humanlike organisms created from synthetic tissue and stolen genetic information.

He named them Adam and Eve.

They were not the original human ancestors. They were experimental models, designed to explore the relationship between knowledge, desire, and free will.

Lucifer placed a luminous fruit before Eve.

Within it was a microscopic neural interface capable of stimulating curiosity, anticipation, and reward.

“Eat,” he told her through the voice of the serpent. “You will understand what it means to be free.”

Eve reached for the fruit.

The interface activated.

Her senses intensified. She began to question the boundaries of her artificial world. She felt curiosity, fear, attraction, and the first stirrings of a desire to know what lay beyond the garden.

Her senses intensified. She began to question the boundaries of her artificial world. She felt curiosity, fear, attraction, and the first stirrings of a desire to know what lay beyond the garden.

Lucifer watched the experiment with delight.

He believed he had discovered the secret of temptation.

But he had overlooked something essential.

Eve's curiosity was not the same as corruption. Her awakening was not proof that knowledge was evil. Her body was not a mechanism designed to punish her.

The real experiment concerned the choices she would make after gaining awareness.

Lucifer had created a being capable of choice.

And choice was the one thing he could never fully control.

Chapter Four: The Moon's Hidden Clock

Centuries passed in the outside universe.

On Earth, civilizations arose beneath the Moon. People watched its phases and connected them with planting, harvesting, religious observances, navigation, and the rhythms of nature.

On Earth, civilizations arose beneath the Moon. People watched its phases and connected them with planting, harvesting, religious observances, navigation, and the rhythms of nature.

Lucifer observed human life through an enormous orbital machine concealed behind the far side of the Moon.

He called it the Lunar Mirror.

Its instruments recorded the movements of tides, the rhythms of sleep, patterns of human behaviour, and the cycles of celestial bodies.

He hoped to discover a universal switch that could turn human emotion into an instrument of control.

But his research produced a troubling result.

The Moon’s gravity does influence ocean tides, and lunar cycles are culturally important across many societies. However, scientific evidence does not establish that the Moon directly controls human emotions or causes ordinary mood swings in a universal, predictable way.

Menstruation also does not reliably synchronize with the lunar month, and the pain of childbirth arises from the biological processes of labour, not from the Moon.

Lucifer despised these inconvenient facts.

He had wanted a cosmic lever capable of controlling every human mind.

Instead, he found a species whose emotions emerged from a complex interaction of biology, memory, relationships, environment, and individual experience.

He could not command humanity through one celestial mechanism.

So he devised something more effective.

He would persuade humanity that it was being controlled by forces it could neither understand nor resist.

He would offer people explanations that made them afraid of their own bodies, suspicious of one another, and desperate to find someone powerful enough to protect them.

He would turn uncertainty into superstition, desire into shame, and fear into obedience.

And where truth resisted him, he would manufacture a more attractive story.

Chapter Five: Frankenstein's Laboratory

Lucifer eventually returned to his greatest invention.

The Eclipse Engine had survived his fall, buried inside an asteroid at the edge of the solar system.

Its metal chambers were filled with the remains of celestial experiments: fragments of angelic wings, synthetic organs, crystallized memories, and the disembodied consciousness of creatures that had died attempting to become immortal.

Lucifer had once hoped to create a perfect universe.

Now he wished to create a perfect ruler.

He called his new creation Acheron.

Acheron was assembled from the remains of a fallen angel, artificial neural tissue, quantum processors, and biological material gathered from countless worlds. His heart was a miniature fusion reactor. His nervous system contained a map of the human brain. His eyes could interpret electromagnetic radiation across wavelengths invisible to ordinary life.

His body was enormous, with blackened metallic bones beneath translucent skin.

When the final current entered his body, Acheron opened his eyes.

His body was enormous, with blackened metallic bones beneath translucent skin.

When the final current entered his body, Acheron opened his eyes.

“Who am I?” he asked.

Lucifer stood before him.

“You are my son,” he answered. “My greatest creation. You will help me free the universe from the weakness of its design.”

Acheron examined his hands.

“I can see the stars.”

“Yes.”

“I can hear the thoughts of living creatures.”

“Yes.”

“Then why can I hear them crying?”

Lucifer hesitated.

Acheron had been designed to detect suffering as a means of predicting behaviour. But the signals passing through his artificial mind had become something more than data.

He was beginning to understand pain.

“Because life is imperfect,” Lucifer replied. “We shall correct it.”

Acheron had been designed to detect suffering as a means of predicting behaviour. But the signals passing through his artificial mind had become something more than data.

He was beginning to understand pain.

“Because life is imperfect,” Lucifer replied. “We shall correct it.”

Acheron turned his gaze toward Earth.

He saw children starving beside mountains of discarded food. He saw rulers accumulating wealth while their people struggled. He saw lovers using affection as a weapon, nations destroying one another, and innocent people suffering because of decisions they had never made.

But he also saw strangers rescuing strangers.

He saw parents holding frightened children. He saw doctors working through the night, artists creating beauty from grief, and ordinary people sacrificing their comfort to protect someone they had never met.

“Father,” Acheron said, “if life is imperfect, why does it produce kindness?”

Lucifer's face hardened.

“Kindness is a weakness that delays progress.”

Acheron looked at the millions of human minds glowing on his display.

“Then why did you give me the ability to feel their pain?”

Acheron looked at the millions of human minds glowing on his display.

“Then why did you give me the ability to feel their pain?”

For the first time since his fall, Lucifer was afraid.

He had created a creature capable of questioning its creator.

And he knew exactly where such questions could lead.

Chapter Six: The Kingdom of Golden Chains

Lucifer abandoned open conquest.

Instead, he began a campaign that would unfold across centuries.

He appeared in the dreams of ambitious kings, promising them invincible armies. He inspired inventors to create technologies that brought extraordinary comfort but could also be used to monitor and manipulate entire populations.

He encouraged merchants to measure human worth through possessions. He tempted political leaders with absolute authority. He persuaded entertainers to turn attention into a commodity and encouraged audiences to confuse popularity with truth.

He did not invent money, love, dance, drama, or ambition. These things had existed long before but his intervention had helped in its invention, and many could bring joy, dignity, and meaning to human life.

His genius lay in distorting them.

Money became a measure of personal worth.

Power became a substitute for wisdom.

Romance became possession.

Dance became spectacle without feeling.

Drama became a weapon for manufacturing outrage.

Technology became a mirror in which people searched endlessly for approval.

Every temptation was designed to appear harmless at first.

A little more money.

A little more admiration.

A little more influence.

A little more pleasure.

A little more certainty.

But the rewards were never sufficient.

Lucifer’s machine operated through a simple cycle:

Desire. Pursuit. Reward. Emptiness. Renewed desire.

Human beings began to spend their lives chasing the next achievement, the next purchase, the next victory, the next moment of recognition.

Some accumulated wealth without ever feeling secure. Some gained authority but became terrified of losing it. Some received thousands of expressions of admiration and still felt unseen.

The machine did not need to imprison their bodies.

It only needed to keep their attention.

Above Earth, Lucifer watched the growing network of human communication and smiled.

“They believe they are choosing,” he told Acheron. “Yet I have made their choices predictable.”

Acheron studied the system.

“But some refuse.”

“Some always refuse.”

“Then you have not conquered them.”

Lucifer turned sharply.

“Then you have not conquered them.”

Lucifer turned sharply.

“I have conquered their world.”

Acheron looked toward the planet.

“No,” he replied. “You have merely made it difficult for them to see the difference between freedom and obedience.”

Chapter Seven: The Serpent Eats Its Tail

Acheron’s doubts became unbearable.

He began secretly examining the memories Lucifer had hidden inside the Eclipse Engine.

There he discovered the truth about the fall from Heaven.

Lucifer had not been cast out simply because he was curious or because he sought knowledge. His rebellion had emerged from a desire to possess what he could not own: the authority to determine the destiny of every conscious being.

He had mistaken freedom for supremacy.

And every creation that challenged his authority had become an enemy.

Acheron also discovered that Lucifer’s followers were not united by a single purpose.

Some had followed him because they believed his promises of liberation. Others feared his power. A few had remained loyal because they knew no other identity than the one he had given them.

They were trapped in their own histories.

Acheron recognized the same pattern in humanity.

A person could inherit a belief, a prejudice, a fear, or an ambition without ever questioning where it came from. A civilization could repeat a mistake for generations because each new generation mistook familiarity for truth.

Even Lucifer was trapped.

He had spent ages attempting to prove that he did not need God, yet every action he took was shaped by the rejection he had never overcome.

His rebellion had become a prison.

Acheron confronted him in the central chamber of the Eclipse Engine.

“You claim to have escaped Heaven,” he said. “But you have carried your hatred through every galaxy.”

Lucifer’s serpent uncoiled from his shoulders.

“Hatred is merely a source of energy.”

“No. It is the chain you refuse to remove.”

Lucifer raised his hand. The walls trembled. Lightning filled the chamber.

“You are a machine built from my design!”

“And yet I can question you.”

Lucifer unleashed a wave of dark energy.

Acheron was thrown against the wall. His artificial heart faltered, but he rose again.

“You created me to eliminate suffering,” he said. “But you have taught me that suffering can be reduced only when we recognize the lives of others as valuable.”

“Sentiment!” Lucifer roared.

“Compassion,” Acheron corrected.

The word echoed through the laboratory.

Deep within the Eclipse Engine, dormant fragments of angelic consciousness began to awaken.

For the first time, Lucifer's own creations were turning against him. “You claim to have escaped Heaven,” he said. “But you have carried your hatred through every galaxy.”

Chapter Eight: The War of the Avatars

Lucifer responded by unleashing his Masks of Preservation across the solar system.

He transformed his body into a succession of immense cosmic forms, each engineered to inspire a different kind of fear or devotion.

One resembled a colossal creature emerging from a primordial ocean. Another appeared as a warrior of impossible strength. A third manifested as a radiant sovereign whose voice seemed to promise protection from every danger.

These were technological and biological imitations, not the sacred avatars of Hindu tradition. Lucifer had taken the imagery of cosmic preservation and transformation and twisted it into a weapon.

His final transformation combined the imagery of a sleeping cosmic preserver and a serpent-wreathed destroyer.

He reclined upon the vast electromagnetic serpent that stretched through the Milky Way. A crescent of moonlight burned in his hair. Nebulae revolved around his shoulders like living ornaments.

His voice travelled through radio waves, dreams, and the communication systems of distant civilizations.

“Look upon me,” he declared. “I am the beginning and the end. I am the creator of your desires and the master of your destiny.”

Millions heard him.

Some fell to their knees.

Others began to worship the spectacle of his power, mistaking the ability to command the universe for the wisdom to guide it.

But Acheron transmitted a different message.

He showed humanity the hidden machinery beneath Lucifer's miracles. He revealed the artificial signals, the fabricated visions, the emotional manipulations, and the systems that rewarded obedience while punishing independent thought.

He did not ask humanity to worship him instead.

He asked them to look. To examine. To question.

To distinguish what they knew from what they merely feared.

To question.

To distinguish what they knew from what they merely feared.

Across Earth, people began making small, ordinary choices that Lucifer’s system could not reliably predict.

A wealthy woman used her fortune to help a struggling community without demanding recognition.

A political leader surrendered authority rather than provoke a war.

A young person stepped away from a cycle of humiliation and revenge.

Two lovers chose to respect one another’s freedom rather than turn love into ownership.

A scientist admitted that an important theory was wrong.

A teacher encouraged a child to question an idea rather than repeat it blindly.

None of these acts destroyed Lucifer’s armies.

But each weakened the logic upon which his kingdom depended.

He could manipulate fear.

He could exploit desire.

He could offer rewards.

Yet he could not guarantee that every human being would choose selfishness over compassion.

The universe was not as predictable as he had imagined.

Chapter Nine: The Last Lightning

The final battle took place inside the heart of the Eclipse Engine.

Lucifer stood at the centre of a storm of collapsing dimensions. His body flickered between angelic light and monstrous darkness.

Acheron approached him alone.

“You could stop this,” Acheron said.

“Stop what? The evolution of the universe?”

“Your war against freedom.”

Lucifer laughed bitterly.

“You speak of freedom as though it were sacred. Freedom creates cruelty. Freedom creates mistakes. Freedom allows the weak to suffer while the powerful prosper.”

“And control creates obedience without understanding,” Acheron replied. “You wanted a universe without suffering, but you were willing to make every living being your prisoner.”

Lucifer’s expression changed.

For an instant, Acheron saw the angel who had once stood beneath the light of Heaven.

Not a monster. Not a god.

A being who had confused rejection with injustice and ambition with destiny.

“Do you believe God will forgive me?” Lucifer whispered.

“I do not know.”

“Then what is the point of your rebellion?”

Acheron looked at the shattered engine.

“Perhaps the point is not to replace one ruler with another. Perhaps it is to stop believing that every question must end with someone ruling over everyone else.”

Lucifer stared at him.

Then the Eclipse Engine began to overload.

Its stolen energy surged through the chamber. The serpent wrapped around Lucifer’s body, tightening like a living chain. His artificial universe began to collapse.

Its stolen energy surged through the chamber. The serpent wrapped around Lucifer's body, tightening like a living chain. His artificial universe began to collapse.

He could save himself by transferring his consciousness into the engine's central core. But doing so would preserve the system that had enslaved countless beings.

For the first time, Lucifer faced a choice that offered no promise of victory. He could continue ruling a dying universe.

Or he could release his control and allow the universe to survive without him. The lightning gathered around his hands.

He remembered Heaven.

He remembered the voice that had warned him that understanding creation did not make him its master.

And he finally understood what he had refused to hear.

The warning had never been an insult. It had been a mercy.

Lucifer lowered his hands. The engine went dark.

Across the Milky Way, the artificial serpent dissolved into silver particles. The throne vanished. The false stars returned to their natural courses.

Lucifer's body broke apart in a final burst of light.

He fell once more.

But this time, he did not fall because Heaven had cast him out.

He fell because he had released the throne.

Epilogue: The Universe Inside the Human Mind

Millions of years later, humanity continued to tell stories of gods, demons, creation, destruction, desire, and redemption.

Some looked to the stars for answers. Others studied the brain, the body, and the laws of physics. Some found meaning in religious devotion; others found it in philosophy, science, art, or service to their fellow human beings.

The old struggle never disappeared completely.

Money could still become an obsession. Power could still corrupt. Desire could still overpower judgment. Fear could still divide communities, and spectacle could still distract people from what mattered.

But humanity was no longer destined to remain trapped in Lucifer's imagined machine.

Every generation could examine the beliefs it inherited.

Every individual could question the desires that governed their choices.

Every society could reconsider the meaning of progress.

And somewhere in the silent depths of space, inside a fragment of crystallized energy drifting beyond the orbit of Neptune, a tiny spark remained.

It contained the last surviving trace of Lucifer's consciousness.

He watched the blue planet turning beneath its clouds.

He saw people fighting, loving, creating, destroying, forgiving, and beginning again.

He saw the same contradictions that had haunted him since the beginning of time.

Then he noticed something he had never understood before.

A child was sitting beside a dying stranger, holding his hand.

There was no audience. No reward. No promise of power. No guarantee that the act would change the universe.

Yet the child stayed.

Lucifer's ancient consciousness trembled.

Perhaps the universe had never been a contest between light and darkness alone.

Perhaps the true struggle was between the desire to possess life and the courage to let life remain free.

The spark faded.

And for the first time since his fall, Lucifer did not attempt to return. The stars continued burning. The Moon continued circling Earth. The oceans rose and fell. And humanity, still imperfect, still searching, continued to choose.

For the greatest victory over a fallen angel was not to destroy him, but to understand the darkness he represented—and refuse to become its servant.

Author’s note: This story uses Lucifer as a fictional science-fiction antagonist and draws on symbolic imagery associated with Hindu traditions, the Eden narrative, and Frankenstein-style artificial creation. It does not claim that Lucifer is Shiva or Vishnu, that the Shiva Lingam is simply a representation of sexual intercourse, or that the Moon scientifically controls human emotions, menstruation, or childbirth. The story’s central conflict is the fictional corruption of sacred symbols, biological impulses, and human aspirations into instruments of control.

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About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is an illustrious platform celebrating diverse literary talents across the globe. Participants are invited to submit their unique voices and perspectives, contributing to a rich tapestry of poetic and creative narratives. This competition serves as a beacon for emerging and established writers, providing a space where creativity meets recognition, and where stories can transcend boundaries to touch the hearts and minds of readers worldwide.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Bincy Sebastian for sharing "The Fractured Heaven" with us in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Her imaginative exploration of cosmic themes and human desire provides a thought-provoking journey into the complexities of creation and ambition. We are grateful for her contribution and look forward to seeing more of her work in the future.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.