Adventure
Time Refugee
The world dissolved in a scream of tortured physics. One moment, Leo was in 1943, in a London buckling under the Blitz, the air thick with dust and the smell of cordite. The next, he was lying on a floor of cool, seamless light, the air silent and sterile. The experimental lab, the frantic last-ditch effort to save their best minds from the falling bombs, had worked. He had been their lead physicist. He was their first, and only, successful test.
By Habibullahabout a year ago in Fiction
Sanctuary
The rain had been falling for three days straight. Not the kind that dances on rooftops and sings lullabies, but the kind that soaks through bones — heavy, endless, punishing. The town below was drowning in mud and silence. Yet high on the hill, where the forest thickened into darkness, the old church stood untouched.
By Malaika Pioletabout a year ago in Fiction
A Vampire Story
My little cabin had really changed since meeting my so-called daughter. She spent most of her time hanging out with other vamps, and regulars, as they called the non vampires, in Svalsbard. I didn't have any idea there were so many vampires here, or I wouldn't have come. Yet here I was, in my cozy cabin that has been rearranged to make room for Ivory and entertain visitors.
By Om Prakash John Gilmoreabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Guardian of Lumaria: A Tale of Magic, Shadows, and Destiny
In a land where twin suns bathed the sky in gold and silver, and rivers whispered secrets of ancient times, Lumaria stood as the last kingdom untouched by darkness. Legends spoke of a Guardian, chosen once every century, who could control the threads of fate itself. Few believed the tales, until shadows began creeping across the land, swallowing villages and silencing rivers.
By Zeenat Chauhanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Immortality Subscription
The ad was everywhere. “Aeterna Corp: Why Have an Expiration Date?” For a manageable monthly fee, the “Rejuvenation Stream” would flood your cells with nano-machines, repairing telomeres, purging toxins, and holding aging at bay. It wasn’t a one-time cure; it was a service. A subscription to immortality.
By Habibullahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Light Switch
The door slammed shut behind me, and the darkness swallowed everything whole. I hadn't meant to come inside. The old Caldwell house had been abandoned for thirty years, its windows like hollow eyes watching the neighborhood. But my phone had died mid-walk, and when the October rain started sheeting down, the partially open front door seemed like an invitation rather than a warning.
By Parsley Rose about a year ago in Fiction
The Shadows of Greenhall
_Part One: The Dance of Light and Shadows in Greenhall_ The autumn air of the outskirts carried the scent of damp earth and fallen yellow leaves, caressing the tall windows of Greenhall Manor. Its stone walls, once adorned with the grandeur of carved stones and vibrant paintings, now bore cracks and faded colors, whispering a silent tale of years steeped in solitude. Amid this heavy stillness sat Liovna, her golden hair shimmering like silk threads in the candlelight. Her white dress, with its delicate lace trim and voluminous sleeves, seemed to have stepped out of a distant dream into this cold room. The simple gold necklace at her throat—her only memento from her mother—trembled faintly with each breath. Beside her lounged Oliver, her young husband, his dark hair and gray eyes holding an unspoken story of their own. A physician by trade, he healed lives with his gentle hands, yet his pockets remained empty of wealth and a home of his own. Their marriage, just two months past, had been sealed in the small village church, the bells ringing through the autumn breeze. Liovna still heard the echo of his romantic vows: “You are the only home I’ve ever sought, Liovna.” She had smiled, her heart warming, and replied, “And you, Oliver, are the light of my life.” Yet Greenhall, the manor inherited from Liovna’s grandmother and now their refuge, bore no resemblance to a warm haven. Its walls were encircled by thorny vines, and its tall, stained-glass windows—cracked and dulled—seemed like watchful eyes peering into the past. As a child, Liovna had visited this place, but always felt an inexplicable pull, a shadow in her chest that kept her at a distance. Now, with Oliver by her side, she resolved to transform it into a home for their love—even if each night brought the faint sound of unseen footsteps echoing through the corridors. This evening, Liovna had retrieved an ancient book from the weathered wooden shelf. Its red cover, etched with faded gold lines, seemed to guard a secret. This tome, a relic from her enigmatic grandmother who never spoke of her past, now rested in her hands. As she turned the pages, the scent of old paper and ink filled her senses. Suddenly, a yellowed letter slipped from between them, fluttering to the floor. Her hands, still warm from Oliver’s touch, trembled as she picked it up. The shaky script of her grandmother’s hand read: “Liovna, my dear, my love for Robert led me to this fate. Beware, for Greenhall may call to you as well. Keep this secret, but know that the shadows are ever near.” Her heart raced. Who was Robert? A name that seemed carved from the depths of history. Her gaze shifted to Oliver, engrossed in his notebook, oblivious to her turmoil. Should she tell him? Before she could decide, the candle beside her flickered. A cold breeze, as if seeping through the sealed windows, swirled around her. She lifted her head and stared at the wall; a dark shadow, resembling a woman in a flowing gown, danced across it. Her breath caught in her throat. When she looked again, the shadow was gone, but the sensation of a presence lingered in the air. Oliver glanced up, his warm smile breaking the tension. “Liovna, why so troubled?” She forced a smile and tucked the letter beneath the book. “Just thinking of Grandmother,” she said, her voice unsteady. He rose, sat beside her, and took her hand. The warmth of his touch, as always, soothed her. “We’ll build a new life here,”he said. “Greenhall, with all its shadows, will soon be our home.” But Liovna knew the shadows—tied to that letter and the name that pierced her heart like a dagger—would not release them so easily. As night fell and Oliver drifted to sleep, she reopened the book. This time, the pages seemed to whisper to her. Faint images of a woman with sorrowful eyes flickered in her mind—perhaps the very woman her grandmother had hinted at. Liovna resolved to uncover the truth, even if it cost her the peace she so desperately sought. Greenhall, with every breath it took, drew her deeper into a past that still lived.
By Vafa Abbasiabout a year ago in Fiction
Knight & Day. Honorable Mention in Parallel Lives Challenge.
Roger had a very happy childhood. He was the youngest of four children, all children of Carl and Betty Knight. Sasha was only ten months older than him. She had been born prematurely but never let her smaller stature stop her from reaching her goals. Tommy was three years older than him and was believed to be the most athletic. Jackie, five years older, was considered the smartest — that is, until Roger came along. Don’t get me wrong. All four were very brilliant. Roger just seemed to catch on to things quicker than his older siblings.
By David E. Perryabout a year ago in Fiction
