Fan Fiction

Your Name Was My Favorite Word—Until It Wasn’t
I used to carve it into fogged shower glass with one careful finger. Whisper it to my pillow like a prayer. Let it roll around my mouth like the last sip of good wine—*your name*, a sacrament in three syllables. Now it sits in my throat like a rusted blade. I discovered the shift gradually: - **Phase 1:** Flinching when someone else said it (a barista, a telemarketer, *her* laughing at a party) - **Phase 2:** Practicing saying it aloud until the letters lost all meaning - **Phase 3:** Realizing I’d forgotten which syllable you stressed when angry The final betrayal came at the DMV. The clerk asked for my emergency contact. My pen hovered. For the first time in ten years, my hand wrote *someone else’s name* without trembling. I expected grief. What came was quieter—like when a song you’ve heard too often suddenly sounds hollow. Like when a childhood home, revisited, smells of strangers. I trace the shape of your name in the dust on my dashboard. The consonants don’t fit together right anymore. Funny how love letters turn into obituaries turn into just words. --- Devastating Details: - **The DMV scene** - Brutal bureaucracy of heartbreak - **Syllable stress memory** - Intimacy’s erosion measured in linguistics - **Dashboard dust tracing** - The ghost of old habits
By Wiki Rjmabout a year ago in Fiction
Whispers of Sunset: Horse and Sheep
“The Promise of the Valley” Nestled deep in the folds of a forgotten valley, where the golden light of the setting sun kissed the river’s winding curves, lived two unlikely companions—a sturdy chestnut horse named Bramble and a curious black sheep named Thistle.
By Mukhtiar Ahmadabout a year ago in Fiction
The Art of Breaking Without a Sound
You learn the technique quickly—how to dissolve into nothingness without disturbing the air. **Step 1: The Disappearing Act** Start with the small things: - Stop humming in the shower - Let your coffee go cold - Bite your tongue instead of laughing Watch how no one notices. **Step 2: The Silent Shatter** Your bones will fracture first. Not the dramatic, splintering kind—just quiet stress fractures from holding everything too tightly. Ribs from suppressed sobs. Fingers from clutching the phone that never lights up. The doctor will call it "osteoporosis of the soul" (though he'll write "vitamin D deficiency" on your chart). **Step 3: The Vanishing** One morning you'll stare at your reflection and realize: You've become a museum of someone else's memories. Your skin—just parchment for their fingerprints. Your voice—an echo of conversations they've forgotten. The masterpiece? When they finally look up from their coffee and say, *"You've been so quiet lately,"* you'll smile (soft, practiced) and whisper, *"I've always been like this."* And they'll believe you.
By Wiki Rjmabout a year ago in Fiction
The Quietest Goodbye
I didn’t realize you had left until weeks later. Your body was still there. Your voice, too. But something softer—something I couldn’t name—was already gone.
By Nomiabout a year ago in Fiction
King of Envy
In the ancient city of Halemar—where cobbled streets shimmered with the dust of old gold, and grand halls echoed with the laughter of false kings—there lived a man named Elion. Not a peasant, not quite a noble, but someone in between. A scholar by training, a dreamer by soul, Elion was known for two things: his intellect, and his ceaseless desire to be someone else.
By Nomiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Silence in the Sound: How AI Vocal Removers Changed Everything
Liam stroked the worn threads along the frayed edges of his loyal old acoustic guitar, a ghost melody in his head. His band, "Echoes of Jupiter," had been the subject of local legend for years, their indie-rock ballads echoing out of dingy clubs and university campuses. But their one big hit, their magnum opus, just wouldn't materialize. The music itself wasn't the problem – their instrumentals were tight, innovative, and full of power. The problem was their lead singer, Marcus.
By Adabout a year ago in Fiction
"Before the Silence"
The wind moved like a breath between broken buildings. It tugged at Elias’s coat as he stood in the center of the abandoned square, staring at the statue that had once meant something. Now, it was cracked in the middle, one half missing an arm, the other worn by rain and time. Pigeons no longer landed here. People no longer gathered. The silence that had followed the last broadcast was absolute.
By Ahmad Aliabout a year ago in Fiction
FALL OF US. ECONOMY
"Neodollar: America's New Dream" The year 2052. The US capital, Washington, DC, was once the center of political power, but now it is just a shadow of the past. The value of the dollar has fallen dramatically. The dollar is now the third-tier currency in the world market, along with cryptocurrencies and the euro.
By sagorbariabout a year ago in Fiction
LOVE n FICTION
"In the Blue Sky of New York" New York City—a city of glittering lights, fast-moving traffic, and magical dreams. Ariba, a girl from Dhaka, set foot in this city. She came to New York University to pursue a master's degree in technology. She left behind her quiet neighborhood, her mother's face, and the image of her father sitting with a cup of tea in his hand. However, New York is not just about studying for Ariba. It is the beginning of living for herself. Her life in Dhaka was confined to the rules of a conservative family. But here, it was as if she could breathe on her own for the first time.
By sagorbariabout a year ago in Fiction
A Love Story
It will be one day for some, one night for some, no one will like it more—I will never go away with this bad nature of mine, Shan was humming to himself standing by the window. Next to him, his roommates—Riyaz, Surya, and Naushad—were drifting off into the intoxication of alcohol. The night before the exam, but no one was tense. Naushad had finished the entire bottle by himself
By Ishrat Jahan about a year ago in Fiction
Humla Limi Valley Trek: Yaks, Yak Cheese, and the Art of Surviving Your Own Stupidity
Let’s get this straight: if the Gokyo Lakes were a chilly slap of reality, the Humla Limi Valley Trek is like getting dunked into a bucket of ice water while someone yells, “This is character-building!” My accomplice? Anika, a friend who claims she’s “into cultural immersion” but is really just a history nerd with a knack for getting lost. Together, we ventured into Nepal’s far northwest—a place so remote, even Google Maps shrugs.
By michal lendenabout a year ago in Fiction
Red Queen
They say the crown chooses the queen—but what happens when the crown bleeds? The sun bled across the sky like a wounded soldier as Mareth stepped into the Hall of Judgment. The throne stood empty, its velvet cushions stained with time, not blood. Not yet.
By HUBREXXabout a year ago in Fiction