Thriller
Billionaire’s Forbidden Love
Ava Sinclair had always believed that hard work could solve anything. She had spent years struggling to make ends meet, juggling multiple jobs while trying to keep her father’s small art gallery alive. But no amount of determination could have prepared her for the night that changed everything.
By Ilsa Sophia2 years ago in Chapters
Lost in the Death Zone
The Call of the Mountains Mohammad Ali Sadpara, a force of nature, was born in 1976 in the remote village of Sadpara, nestled in Pakistan's Himalayan Baltistan region. His childhood was not just about postcard-perfect views, but also about the harsh realities of life in the mountains. His family, like many others, relied on livestock farming to make ends meet. The village youth, including young Ali, often worked as porters for Western mountaineers and adventure tourists.
By Muhammad Ashfaq Bhatti2 years ago in Chapters
The True Story of the Niland Brothers Who Inspired ''Saving Private Ryan''
This heart-wrenching story of sacrifice, family and duty Steven Spielberg's iconic 1998 film Saving Private Ryan is considered one of the most impactful war flicks of all time. The movie mesmerized all the world with its gritty and realistic brutal depiction of the horrors of World War II, especially the craziness of the D-Day landings. Although the story of Private James Francis Ryan was fictitious, it was based on the true story of the Niland brothers. the tragic loss of life and in war, horrific choices that follow.
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Chapters
A Brief History of Love Letters
Bad soul! I am sure I had an idea of it, I had not joked about it for all my money. But then you know, how can I suppose such a thing? I have certainly made But a common love-letter, and you know young people liked to laugh at them.
By SJ_Insights2 years ago in Chapters
Drifting Between Worlds. AI-Generated.
Ethan Carter didn’t move for a long time. His reflection in the window stared back at him—an older, wearier version of himself that he didn’t recognize. His heart pounded in his ears, his breath shallow. “This—this doesn’t make sense,” he murmured, stepping away from the window. The man in the brown coat—Ethan still didn’t know his name—watched him with measured patience. “It’s not supposed to. Not yet.” Ethan clenched his fists. “You said I was being shown something. By who? Why?” The man sighed, as if debating how much to say. “This isn’t random, Ethan. You’re moving through places, but you’re also moving through yourself. Every city you wake up in isn’t just another stop—it’s a piece of the puzzle. A memory. A truth you’ve been avoiding.” Ethan’s stomach twisted. “That’s bullshit. I’ve never even been to Barcelona before yesterday. And London? The last time I came here, I was fifteen.” The man raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” Ethan opened his mouth to respond—but the words died in his throat. Because was he sure? The last few days—or weeks?—had thrown everything he knew into question. His past no longer felt solid. The more he tried to recall exact moments—his last real conversation with his sister, his last day at work, even what he had eaten before bed that night in Chicago—the more it all blurred together. His fingers curled around the newspaper again. Missing for three weeks. Three weeks that he had no memory of. His pulse quickened. He needed to breathe. Needed to think. Pushing past the man, Ethan strode toward the nightstand, searching for anything familiar. He yanked open the drawer. His hands froze. Inside was a photograph. It was old, edges worn, the colors faded. But it was unmistakable. Him and his father. A lump formed in his throat. The photo was from when he was a kid—maybe eight or nine. He was grinning up at his dad, a tooth missing from his smile, while his father ruffled his hair. Behind them, the London Eye stood tall, a reminder of their last vacation together before everything had fallen apart. Ethan’s breath hitched. He hadn’t seen this picture in years. It had been lost when they moved out of their childhood home. So how was it here? His fingers tightened around the edges of the photo. “What the hell is this?” The man in the brown coat remained by the door, watching. “Your past is calling you.” Ethan swallowed hard. “I don’t understand.” The man took a step forward. “Your mind is fractured. There are things you’ve locked away—things you weren’t ready to face. But you can’t run from them anymore.” Ethan shook his head. “That’s not—” He exhaled sharply, his grip on the photo trembling. “I don’t remember any of this. I don’t remember losing time. I don’t remember forgetting my own life.” The man studied him. “Because you buried it.” Ethan’s breath stalled. Buried it. The words sent a cold shiver through him. He looked at the photo again. A memory surfaced. Not just of the trip—but of the fight. The way his father had yelled that last night in London. The way Ethan had cried, curled up in bed, wishing he could be anywhere else. Wishing he could disappear. And then, years later, he had. His father had died. His sister had moved on. And Ethan had let himself drift through life, never staying in one place for too long, never fully being anywhere. Always running. His fingers tightened around the photograph. The man in the brown coat tilted his head. “You’re waking up, Ethan. Slowly, but surely.” Ethan’s jaw clenched. “And what happens when I fully wake up?” The man gave a small, almost sad smile. “You’ll have to decide if you want to keep running—or if you’re finally ready to heal.” Ethan swallowed hard. For the first time since this nightmare began, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.Start writing...
By Sandra Amiedor2 years ago in Chapters
Before It Ends. Top Story - February 2025. Content Warning.
I sat there for several moments trying to process everything that Aunt Mina had said. A curse put on the family by my Aunt Renee? This "shadow" that would try to drag my mom under the bed? It definitely sounded like something that could be induced by too much drinking. Maybe Aunt Mina was right? Maybe it was just my mom freaking out over old memories and hallucinations brought on by drinking too much? But... when mom was screaming and freaking out at me... she was sober. She hadn't drank any alcohol that night before bed... something was not adding up.
By Luna Verity2 years ago in Chapters
To reveal remarkable talent 1
Upon entering my abode, I heaved a profound sigh of relief. After engaging in that exchange of elaborate courtesies for quite a while, I was, in truth, utterly devoid of confidence. Had the other party truly chosen not to show me any deference, I would have been at a complete loss. Fortunately, that wolf demon was rather courteous, and, much to my astonishment, I managed to retrieve Williams without a hitch.
By Andy Johnson2 years ago in Chapters
