family
Whispers in the Attic
I never liked the attic. Even as a child, I felt its weight from below. The narrow stairs creaked when you walked on them, and the door at the top looked older than the house itself. My parents never went up there. Sometimes I heard faint noises scratches, whispers, or maybe just the wind but the room remained a mystery.
By Kashif Wazir10 months ago in Fiction
Silent Walls
I had always known about the room at the end of the hall. My father never spoke of it, and my mother never mentioned it. Even the house seemed to avoid it the light never quite reached the hallway, and the floorboards groaned less near that door. When I was a child, I tried to peek inside, but the door was always locked, the key always missing. Over the years, I stopped asking. Over the years, the room became invisible.
By Kashif Wazir10 months ago in Fiction
The Forgotten Room
I had lived in my grandmother’s old house for six months before I gathered the courage to open the room at the end of the hallway. Every night I walked past it. Every morning I ignored it. The door was always closed, the key always cold, and the air around it always heavier than the rest of the house. My grandmother used to call it “the room that sleeps.” I never asked why. I never wanted to know.
By Kashif Wazir10 months ago in Fiction
The Victor
Almost there! Dropping back a gear, the engine growls as we labour up the final climb. Stomach knotting, jaw clenching, my hands lock around the leather encased steering wheel. Strains of classical music crescendo as we crest the rise and there it is! In all its glory. Unchanged since that last visit. Exactly as I left it. Indelibly etched in my memory. A gasp escapes from the passenger seat. Always the same… the reaction, the place.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶10 months ago in Fiction
Truthful Girls
A young girl named Cassie was just a normal high school student. She made two new friends, Rose and Natasha, who were transfers. They were involved in rumors, secrets and they kept things about themselves a secret so it won’t jeopardize their friendship. Years after graduating from high school, they led very different lives. Cassie has a daughter and son. Rose has two girls and a boy. Natasha has two boys and a girl and her mother would often visit her. Cassie’s husband is serving overseas and writes to her, their son James and daughter Miranda. Rose’s husband is a newspaper writer and gives advice to their oldest daughter Francine, middle son franklin and youngest daughter kelly. Natasha’s husband is an author and places his books for their oldest son, Martin, middle child Belle and youngest son brian.
By Forest Green10 months ago in Fiction
The Jilted Bride!. Runner-Up in The Forgotten Room Challenge. Top Story - December 2025.
🕊️ The Courtship of Morylda Morylda met him - Chalen - in the greenhouse of her aunt’s estate, where she’d gone to escape the suffocating expectations of her lineage. He was not a gardener, though he wore the green apron like one. He was a composer, moonlighting among orchids to pay for studio time. His hands smelled of soil and sandalwood, and when he spoke, his voice had the cadence of an unsung lullaby.
By Novel Allen10 months ago in Fiction
A Spark Within. Top Story - December 2025.
This was written for John and Paul's unofficial challenge :) (Now I know what you may be thinking...I'm not the one that rises in the morning with a big smile plastered to my face and my work is generally darker in nature, BUT, I hate to be told what to do or what I can do, hehe, so I chose to do the uplifting part not the critique. That's all the warning you get.)
By Heather Hubler10 months ago in Fiction
The Observer Effect
Dr. Aris Thorne’s mission was one of pure, academic observation. Her destination: a Neolithic settlement in Northern Europe, 3000 BCE. The date: the Autumn Equinox. Her goal: to finally document the undisrupted "Rite of Balance," a ceremony where ancient druids were said to harmonize the dying sun with the coming dark, ensuring a mild winter. It was the holy grail of temporal anthropology.
By Habibullah10 months ago in Fiction
The Window No One Opened
The wind rattled the loose glass of the attic window long before I reached the staircase. This old house had lived a hundred lives, but tonight it felt more alive than it had in years. Shadows gathered near the corners, thick and silent, as if they too remembered what happened here.
By Salman Writes10 months ago in Fiction
