Fan Fiction
The Clockmaker’s Secret
The Clockmaker’s Secret The small town of Veywood was known for its stillness. Nestled between two misty hills and a silver river, life there moved slowly. But for all its serenity, one peculiar shop always caught the eye of strangers—a little clockmaker’s shop on the corner of Willow Street.
By Malik BILALabout a year ago in Fiction
Unlearning Who I Thought I Had to Be
For most of my life, I believed I knew exactly who I was supposed to be. At least, that’s what I told myself. Growing up in a small town, with its quiet streets and sharp opinions, the expectations felt like a heavy cloak draped over my shoulders from the moment I could remember.
By Haris Raheemabout a year ago in Fiction
A Letter to the Father Who Left
Dear Dad, I don’t know how to begin this letter. It feels strange even calling you “Dad.” The word feels foreign in my mouth, like a name I was never meant to say. But here I am, writing to you after all these years—years that have shaped me, scarred me, and, strangely enough, strengthened me.
By Haris Raheemabout a year ago in Fiction
The Day Everything Changed
It was a quiet Tuesday morning in the small town of Maplewood. The sun peeked through the blinds of the Carter family’s modest home, casting warm streaks of gold across the hardwood floor. Everything about the day started just like any other — coffee brewing in the kitchen, birds chirping outside, and the faint sound of a local radio station humming in the background.
By Haris Raheemabout a year ago in Fiction
Three Little Fools and the House That Never Stood
✦ The Story: Once, not too long ago, there were three little fools. Not the kind of fools you mock. These were kind fools—hopeful, creative, maybe a bit too optimistic. Armed with laptops, ambition, and unpaid rent notices, they tried to make it on their own terms.
By Saeed Ullah about a year ago in Fiction
The Room Number
The Room Number – Part 1 I didn’t come to the coast looking for trouble. I came to forget. The hotel was everything the brochure promised — marble lobby, sweeping ocean views, and the kind of staff who smiled without actually looking at you. I’d booked a junior suite for the weekend, just me, my camera, and the sound of the sea.
By Shakespeare Jrabout a year ago in Fiction









