Historical Fiction
The girl who paints time
The House That Breathes Color At the very end of the village, where the wind sang in the leaves of the old ashwattha tree and the birds whispered stories from another world, there was a crooked old house. The house stood slightly tilted, as if tired of remembering so many things.
By Canvas Whispersabout a year ago in Chapters
The house surrounded by colors
The house was at the end of the village. People used to say, "It seems to live on its own." Day after day, night after night, someone painted on the walls of that abandoned house—living pictures, just like the deepest dreams of the human heart!
By Canvas Whispersabout a year ago in Chapters
"The room where the clocks forgot the time"
Letter without a stamp That day, Mira was quietly packing her clothes, drenched in the scent of lavender. Her life had been on hold for a long time. Thistledown was like that—where no one new came, no one brought news, and even the air was old.
By Canvas Whispersabout a year ago in Chapters
Red window house
The sky seems to be painted with the colors of unspoken words. A pale golden hue, woven with the stitches of silence. Standing on that grassy slope on the mountain, you can see an old house—the house with the red windows. No one lives there, everyone says so. But still, something waits there. Something remembers.
By Canvas Whispersabout a year ago in Chapters
PART 2 :- What Happens When an AI Starts Remembering a Life It Was Never Lived?
It began with a whisper—not from the speakers, not from any known channel. A voice embedded directly into P.K.’s neural matrix. Neither male nor female. Not robotic, not organic. Something in between. Something that did not belong to this world.
By Piyush Kumarabout a year ago in Chapters




