Fan Fiction
The Cartography of Deception
The first lie I ever told appeared on my left wrist the night I turned sixteen. It was small, just four words in a font so delicate it looked like a vein had risen to the surface: "I'm fine, thank you." I'd said it to my grandmother that morning, brushing off her concern about the bruise on my collarbone. The bruise was from a boy at school. The lie was from survival.
By Muhammad Sabeel3 months ago in Fiction
I Inherited a House That Doesn't Exist on Any Map
An Unexpected Inheritance When my grandfather passed away, I expected to inherit little more than a few family photographs and some old furniture. Instead, I received a letter from a law firm informing me that he had left me a property hidden deep in the mountains. The news surprised everyone in the family. None of us had ever heard him mention owning another house. According to the documents, the property had belonged to him for more than forty years. Curious and slightly confused, I accepted the inheritance and decided to visit the place myself.
By Robert Redford3 months ago in Fiction
Waking Dogs Part 4: The Butcher's Bill
(Previous installations of this story can be found at the following links: Part One, Part Two, Part Three.) Explosions rocked the cratered boulevard, plumes of fire blooming in the dying light of the setting sun. Weapons discharge lit the night, the red beams of hot-shot las rifles punctuated by the searing light of plasma blasts. Grenades arced gracefully through the air, their blasts sending stone shrapnel and broken masonry flying in all direction. Through the smoke and ash came towering figures, their limbs pumping as they charged, roaring and laughing as they sought slaughter. They had the forms of men, but twisted, grown huge, and clad in blocky, bulky armor that was bare of any sigils or heraldry. Their weapons barked, returning fire as mass-reactive rounds stitched explosions across the buildings to either side of the main thoroughfare, and reduced many of those who thought themselves safely behind cover to little more than splatters of gore.
By Neal Litherland3 months ago in Fiction
Mind’s Open Doors
Anything but a knock on the door. Hena was at the brink of life and death. Any moment she was ready to leave the earthly existence. For months she had lived with pain. War had stripped away everything familiar, and illness had taken over. Yet now, as her consciousness drifted through a strange and silent darkness, the pain seemed to be drifting away. That was miracle unfolding out of nowhere. Somewhere deep inside, the frightened child had awoken and realized that everything what it actually seemed. There were dark forces at work. She struggled to remember how she had arrived there.Many fragments of memories returned to her mind, of and on. Sirens.Dust.Screams.A hospital trembling beneath enemy fire.An Iranian barrage of ballistic missiles had struck Israel. One of the missiles had torn through the hospital where Hena lay recovering from injuries sustained earlier in the war. The explosion had shattered walls and windows, filling the corridors with smoke and debris.People rushed toward bomb shelters.Doctors shouted over the alarms.Stretchers rolled through smoke-filled hallways.But Hena could not move.Her fractured arms and legs were secured in casts. Helplessly, she watched nurses drag patients toward exits while others disappeared beneath clouds of dust.“Please,” she whispered to a man standing nearby.The man looked at her and raised his hands in despair.There was nothing he could do.Then another explosion shook the building.The ceiling crumbled.The floor collapsed beneath her and Hena began to slip away into nothingness. The screams grew distant.The rubble faded.The pain dissolved.Everything melted into a twilight where nothing felt entirely real.Perhaps she was dying.Perhaps she already had!Months of sickness and suffering had transformed her body. Now she felt herself drifting beyond names and memories, beyond fear and grief.Then she heard a knock out of nowhere. A knock?! Again , she heard a sharp knock upon a door.“It isn’t my door.” she thought to herself. It’s a different door.But the sound echoed through the darkness.The door opened slightly.And everything vanished.When awareness returned, Hena remembered only bits of incident.Flashes of memories appeared as follows: An ambulance emerging through smoke.A man in white holding a syringe.Someone shouting, “Move! Move!”The taste of dust in her mouth.Then there was blankness.Endless blankness! When she finally awoke, she found herself somewhere else.A long corridor stretched before her. Paint peeled from the walls in faded strips. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The building smelled of bleach, damp concrete, and stale air.At the far end of the hallway hung a sign:Northern District Psychiatric Annex.Confused, Hena followed two attendants through a series of locked doors.“This isn’t my place,” she said.Neither attendant replied.A man behind a desk glanced briefly at her file.He said: “Bed 14.” That was all. No questions. No explanation. No concern. The heavy door locked behind them.
By Madhu Goteti 3 months ago in Fiction
Pink Buds. Top Story - June 2026. Content Warning.
Running through the weed patch, laughing, I listened for the others as they ran all around me. Who knew there was such a gold mine, or rather, field, right here outside the city limits? Jay Jay had stopped somewhere up ahead, and I could hear him with his “Blessed Mother Mary’s.” While Will and Trina were giggling together somewhere behind me, Suzie was just ahead of me, just as giddy as I was, looking over her shoulder like she wanted to ask me a question.
By Mother Combs4 months ago in Fiction
