Fan Fiction
My Neighbor Is Haunting
The house next door had always been empty—or at least, that’s what everyone said. It was the kind of old place that looked like it was holding its breath: porch sagging, curtains drawn tight, windows like tired eyes. Every kid on the block had a story about it. Some said a woman once walked off its roof thinking it was a stairway to heaven. Others claimed the furniture moved itself when the moon was full. But I wasn’t afraid.
By Muhammad Ahmadabout a year ago in Fiction
Rumor Girls
Some time ago, down at the shore, Eddie’s angel performed in a show defending one’s firm turf, when a maiden started claiming about a backseat romance developing, within a second an Irish bred pretty thing was acknowledged, a winner. This promotional decision created a pass-fail dilemma before out of the money realities surfaced, nearly closing the production.
By Marc OBrienabout a year ago in Fiction
The Postman Who Delivered Secrets
In the quiet town of Elmsworth, where gossip was a second language and everyone waved at everyone else, a man named Elliot Bell carried the post. He had done so for 23 years, walking the same cobbled roads in his brown uniform and creased cap, knowing every barking dog and every doorbell tone. People liked Elliot—not because he talked much, but because he listened. He delivered joy in birthday cards, sadness in final notices, and routine in bills. The town trusted him.
By Muhammad Ahmadabout a year ago in Fiction
Where the Light Forgot to Fall
The house on Ember Hollow Road was built before people cared about insulation, foundation, or ghosts. It stood crookedly, leaning just slightly to the left—as if perpetually eavesdropping. Ivy clung to its bones, and in winter, frost coated the windows like cataracts, blinding it from the world. When Mara returned after fourteen years, it was dusk. The kind of dusk that doesn't so much darken as it swallows. The trees cast long, thin fingers over the porch. She stared at the front door, half-expecting it to open by itself. She hadn’t come for closure. Closure is what people say when they’re trying to forget. Mara had come to remember. Her boots creaked across the wooden floorboards. The smell hit her first—old wood, damp wallpaper, and something she couldn’t quite name. Not rot. Not mildew. Something older. Like dust mixed with grief. The house hadn’t changed much. The chandelier still hung crooked in the foyer, its crystals clinking like wind chimes with every breeze. To the left, the parlor was still dressed in the same faded floral furniture, as if waiting for guests who never arrived. And the mirror—the cursed one, her aunt used to say—still sat above the fireplace, blank and black. She moved slowly, her fingertips grazing memories. The piano in the corner—silent since the winter her brother died. The bookshelf, still housing her father's old astronomy journals, filled with scribbled notes about stars he could never reach. Then, the lightbulb in the hallway flickered. Once. Twice. Out. That’s when she heard it. A soft scuffle upstairs. Just one step. Then silence. Her breath caught, but she didn’t move. The house had always done that. It breathed differently, spoke in creaks and shadows. She had learned long ago that silence didn’t mean safety. She took the stairs slowly. Each step groaned beneath her. At the top, the hallway yawned wide, painted with dimness. At the far end was the room no one ever opened. Her mother used to say it was locked because it was "unneeded." But tonight, it was open. Mara didn’t hesitate. She pushed the door gently. It creaked open with a slow, grudging sigh. Inside, the air was heavier—cooler. Dust motes floated lazily, suspended in the faint glow of the moonlight slicing through a cracked window. In the center stood a chair. Not facing her, but the wall. And behind it—just barely visible—was something drawn across the wallpaper. A figure, scratched into plaster with what looked like fingernails. A tall figure, arms too long, eyes hollow and wide. Around it, in frantic handwriting: "It remembers what you forget." Mara stepped back. Behind her, the door slammed shut. She spun, heart pounding. The handle wouldn't budge. She pounded once—twice. “Mara,” whispered a voice behind her. She froze. It was his voice. Elijah. Her brother. She hadn’t heard it since the night he died in the river. They never found the body—just the coat and one of his boots, caught in reeds. Slowly, she turned. The chair was empty. But the room was colder now. The figure on the wall… it seemed closer. No. Taller. “Mara, why did you forget me?” “I didn’t,” she whispered, stepping back into the corner. “I didn’t forget.” “You stopped coming here. You left me.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You were gone.” “No,” the voice hissed. “You buried the memory, not the truth.” The room tilted. Shadows crawled down the walls. The figure’s eyes pulsed like slow heartbeats. The ceiling above her flaked and curled inward. She fell to her knees, clutching her head. She remembered— The argument by the river. The push. She had shoved him. He had slipped. She never told anyone. She let the lie grow moss in the corners of her mind. She convinced herself he’d fallen. Convinced herself she wasn’t angry, wasn’t capable. But the house remembered. The house always remembered. “Mara,” the voice said again—softer now. “There’s still time. Bring me into the light.” The mirror downstairs. The one her aunt called cursed. She ran. Down the stairs, through the thick dark, past walls that whispered her name. She didn’t stop until she reached the parlor. The mirror sat untouched. She faced it, breathing hard. Her reflection flickered. And then he was there. Elijah. Behind her in the glass. Pale, wide-eyed, just like the last time she saw him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was scared.” He raised a hand. She mirrored it. Fingers touched the glass. For a second—just a second—it felt warm. Then the chandelier above her blazed to life. Light flooded the room. The house exhaled. And the shadows retreated. --- Mara sat alone on the floor as the morning sun crept through the window, touching the walls that had long held sorrow. She felt lighter, as if the truth had turned to ash and blown away. Upstairs, the once-locked room was empty now. The figure on the wall—gone. Because finally, after all these years, Mara had brought the memory into the place where the light forgot to fall.
By Haroon Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Silence of Forgotten Alarms
The Silence of Forgotten Alarms In the year 2147, the world was quiet—eerily so. No laughter echoed down the streets, no sobs slipped behind locked doors. Emotion had been outlawed decades ago, deemed the root of humanity’s destruction: wars born from rage, collapses from despair, revolutions sparked by love. The Global Unity Council declared feelings a dangerous contagion and passed the Stability Act—requiring daily neural dampeners to keep citizens “balanced.”
By Zaheer Uddin Babarabout a year ago in Fiction
After The Sunset The Stars As My Witness. Content Warning.
As for Danae, she had her knight in shining armour. In the city, as she ran errands she would feel eyes stripping her bare and snarky comments low enough for her to hear them, but no one dared to touch her because they feared Perseus, and that's what she feared if Perseus died during the quest she would have to be her own knight but she wasn't as big and tough as her son and she hated violence. She’d have to marry the king to be protected from the predators waiting to pounce on her, The King, though a predator in Danae’s eyes, she felt he was a better predator, at least she would be queen.
By Ropafadzo Thokozani Zinyuke (Fadzo) about a year ago in Fiction
storyline: what if he was wrong for nearly a decade
Jason is going to war with Gary in the huge main event ppv match with the entire crowd booing Cage and cheering for every move from jason. Craig remains at ring side promising to not let Gary cheat. Jason finally hits his finisher and he covers Gary for the win 1,2,2.99 ...what the hell craig? Craig shoves Jason off Gary as the entire crowd pops because they had a feeling that he would pull something but then they immediately start booing out of the anger that they have. Jason stands on and walks towards Craig to find out why he did that but Gary cheats and low blows Jason and then Craig superkicks Jason letting Gary the most hated pin for the win. The two heels start beating up Jason, team arbys were told to leave by Jason because he wanted to prove his point alone to Gary so there's no one to help him. Sarah is speechless looking at the screen backstage. tho there is one that we never expected. The crowd ponders the rumors of the people that thought they could return tonight if Craig had turned heel. However, it's one that we didn't have any idea about. Suddenly the music hits and the roof blows off the place because Hunter runs out for the first time in over 15 years and helps Jason fight back and clear the ring. Jason and Hunter end up back to back before they stand face to face for the first time ever. two legends that carried the company. Hunter being one of the founding fathers and Jason being the one of the ones that held it down in the darkest times. however everyone in the crowd and at home wonders one thing. Why did Hunter of all people come to make the save? For the last decade pretty much Jason has been on a redemption mission to atone for his actions towards hope and now her big brother has just saved Jason from a serious beatdown. The two look at each other and around the crowd. Everyone wondered what if these two legends went at it and without a mic Jason can be heard saying if you want to. He's just got done with an epic war and now he's laid down a dream match challenge. The crowd chants dream matches. However, Hunter picks up a mic and says tonight isn't the time but maybe one day,,,however I do have a message to pass on to you. the entire world wonders what it is. " see you sunday ...overcomer" wait...thats thats hope's word...overcomer. Is she finally coming back? guess we'll find out sunday.
By josh napperabout a year ago in Fiction
