Fan Fiction
Faceless Night [Part 3].. Content Warning.
*** The man remembers, fifteen years ago. Before he truly understood the curse. He walked among the lips of the pier, scavenging through the pile of trash left by the passengers. He found nothing except for the foaming ocean water. Then, his two pearl eyes fixated on a mother carrying her child on her left arm, and a bag of fresh fish on her right hand. His drool dripped, his eyes sharpened, and his long tail waved as a signal that he found his target. His paws stuck closer to the edge of the pier, and he leaped into the big ship that had just docked. The ship's anchor protruded from the surface of the sea that started to turn reddish in the reflected light of sunset. The big ship departed, leaving its city behind. The city filled with narrow alleys, where he always ran to avoid being hit by broomsticks. Narrow alleys that had trash cans at each end, where he scavenged for food. The cat meowed and sniffed on the third floor deck of the ship, sharpening his sense of smell to trace the fresh fish aroma brought by the mother. It was complete, just five meters in front of him. The mother was sitting on the passenger seat, nursing her child. Now, he just had to wait for the pitch-black night. It had been an hour and thirty minutes since the ship sailed calmly on the moonlit sea. Some passengers grouped themselves according to their age order. They suddenly greeted each other, getting to know each other, telling their origins and ethnicities. The elderly were busy discussing their youthful days, while the young people joked around while humming night songs. It was not as dark as expected. Now the cat took a higher spot, on the roof of the third floor deck. He still caught the scent of fresh fish, guarding it not to be lost. His trick turned out not to be as easy as wagging his tail, which now just lay flat, stroking his hungry belly. He sat, gazing into the distance, occasionally looking up to let the moonlight's bias dip into his pearl- like eyes. He meowed loudly, asking the clouds to cover the moonlight. "Meeeooong...!" Suddenly, the passengers fell silent, momentarily stopping their activities. They were quiet not because a cat was meowing on the roof, but because the ship's speed slowed down when the captain turned the steering wheel to make a turn. Then, from a distance, there was a faint sound like a trumpet. There were other ships across the port. The lights of the ships sparkled like fireflies, lining up and shining along the beach's lips. Confirming that the destination was close, a destination to another city. The cat squinted, its ears perked up, sharpening its hearing. Restless, the fish might not be eaten. It leaped and ran towards the deck, keeping an eye on the passengers' area. The fish bag was still there, among the rows of long benches. It was time for dinner. Nobody cared, not even the owner who had already fallen asleep with their child. The cat crept among the slouching passengers' legs, finally getting a big chunk of fresh fish. It sharpened its claws, clawing at the bag until it tore open. The cat was angry because the ship was slowing down to dock, and the bag was still intact. It bit into the bag, its fangs piercing the surface. It tasted the fish's fat mixed with its own saliva, and continued to scratch at it. But then the mother woke up, finding her child urinating, peeing on the black fish bag. The cat, now wet with urine, was trying to steal the fish.
By Shafa Ichwanusabout a year ago in Fiction
Godzilla x Kong: Supernova Is the Next Monster verse Movie
The Titans are rising once again—and this time, they’re heading for the stars. Legendary Pictures and Warner Bros. have officially confirmed the next installment in their Monster verse saga: Godzilla x Kong: Supernova. The film is currently in production and is expected to hit theaters in 2027, continuing the explosive legacy of the cinematic universe that has thrilled audiences since 2014.
By rokib ahmedabout a year ago in Fiction
The Spy Who Vanished: A WWII Resistance Story
In a forgotten drawer of a crumbling farmhouse in Lyon, France, my father found a faded envelope sealed with wax. The year was 1993, and we were clearing out my late grandmother's home. Inside the envelope was a photograph of a woman in a trench coat and beret, standing next to a crumpled Nazi truck. On the back, written in looping cursive: “Élise Dumas, 1944. Paris. Disappeared without a trace.”
By Love of momabout a year ago in Fiction
"Whispers of Peace". AI-Generated.
The village of Eloria sat on the edge of a great divide—between two kingdoms that had been at war for as long as memory allowed. Smoke from distant fires often drifted over its quiet hills, and the people had long since stopped counting the seasons by harvests, and instead by the length of peace between skirmishes.
By "TaleAlchemy"about a year ago in Fiction
Hidden history
My mother never talked about her mother. “She died when I was a baby,” was the only explanation I ever got. And whenever I pushed, her expression tightened into a wall of silence I learned not to scale. But on my 30th birthday, everything changed. A package arrived. No return address. Inside was an old wooden box, the kind you’d expect to find in a war museum—worn, scarred, and sealed with a rusted clasp. No note. Just a single photograph tucked into the lid: a young woman in a British military uniform, holding a child. Written on the back in faded ink: “To Clara. For the truth she deserves.” Clara is my mother’s name. The next day, I asked her about it. She went pale when she saw the picture. “Where did you get this?” “I thought you didn’t have any photos of your mother.” She didn’t answer. Her hands trembled as she took the box, slowly opening it. Inside were war documents. Identity papers, ration cards, a pocket diary, and a faded armband with the letters SOE—Special Operations Executive. “What is all this?” I asked. She whispered, “This… this was my mother’s.” --- The diary inside belonged to Evelyn Grace, born 1920, died—well, no one knew when. Her last entry was dated March 15, 1944. She wrote of coded messages, covert missions in Nazi-occupied France, and a final assignment that went “horribly wrong.” There were no details, only a single cryptic line: > “They buried the truth with the bodies. But history never stays hidden forever.” That night, I couldn’t sleep. I read the diary over and over again. Evelyn—my grandmother—hadn’t just disappeared. She had vanished during an undercover operation, and someone had gone to great lengths to erase her from the record. But why? --- I took a week off work and traveled to Arisaig, Scotland, where the SOE had trained agents during the war. A local historian named Malcolm was kind enough to meet me at the town library. “You're Evelyn Grace’s granddaughter?” he asked, after I explained why I was there. “Well, she was a legend around here. But an unofficial one.” He pulled a worn binder off the shelf and flipped it open to a page marked “Disavowed Missions.” “She was deployed in 1944 under false papers. The last anyone saw of her, she was headed toward Saint-Lô, France. The mission went dark, and the operation was buried. Officially, it never happened.” “Why bury it?” “Because something went wrong,” he said. “Something that embarrassed the British government, most likely. Or something too dangerous to admit.” Then he handed me a slip of paper. “If you’re serious about this, there’s someone else you should meet. Lives up near the coast. Name’s Elsie Ward. She trained with your grandmother.” --- Elsie was 102 years old, sharp as glass, and greeted me with: “About damn time someone came asking.” She showed me a locket with two pictures: one of Evelyn, and one of a baby. “She had a daughter,” Elsie said. “They told her the child was stillborn. It was a lie. They took the baby to protect her from retaliation—Gestapo had Evelyn marked. That baby… was your mother.” My breath caught. “You’re saying she survived?” “She did more than survive,” Elsie said, patting my hand. “She lived a quiet life, thinking her mother abandoned her. But Evelyn gave everything to keep her safe. That’s the hidden history no one wrote down.” --- I flew home with copies of Evelyn’s file, a digital scan of the diary, and a heart bursting with questions. I sat down with my mother and told her everything. She cried for hours. “They told me I was an orphan. No family. No legacy. I spent my whole life wondering why she didn’t want me.” “She did,” I said. “She gave her life for you.” And finally, my mother understood. Not just where she came from—but who she came from. --- I’m writing Evelyn’s story now, not just for Vocal but for history. Because some truths deserve to be told. Because not every hero wears medals. And because hidden history, once unearthed, can change everything. --- If you believe in sharing forgotten voices, please leave a like or comment below—and let’s make sure stories like Evelyn’s are never buried again.
By Love of momabout a year ago in Fiction
Faceless Night [Part 2].. Content Warning.
*** The color was a shiny black, as dark as the night. He walked among the dry branches soaked by the rain. Only the two pearl-like orbs on his face, his eyes, could be taken with him anywhere. He moved through the bushes and once again his body twisted to gaze at the cloudy sky, hoping the full moon would never appear. Hoping the rain would finally favor the curse that condemned him. Hoping to keep watching his lover's body only in the form of a black cat. He tried to meow, but his voice suddenly grew heavy, no longer resembling that of a cat. He tried to retreat, sneaking his body back into the bushes, to avoid the full moon's light.
By Shafa Ichwanusabout a year ago in Fiction
"The Sound of an Empty Room"
In the Stillness, I Found Her Memory I never thought silence could be so loud. It’s the kind of silence that sits heavily in the chest, curling into your ribs and resting behind your eyes. After she was gone, I found myself wandering through rooms that used to feel full—of laughter, music, whispered arguments, and the shuffle of morning feet. Now, all that was left was the sound of nothing. The sound of an empty room.
By Waqas Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
Bad blood
David and Emma looked at each other across the table. The young couple were happy: the food was delicious, the light from the candles was soft and the music was perfect. David looked at Emma's beautiful smile. All the pain of his last break-up disappeared. All his doubts and fears about love had gone. His hand reached out and touched hers. 'I want to ask you something.' David searched her eyes. Could she guess what was coming? Her smile made him feel brave. She held his hand. 'Don't worry. Whatever it is, I'll probably say yes!' He felt so excited. He was about to ask the most important question of his life. From the corner of the restaurant, a strange man watched them. He sat very still at his table. He held a menu but he wasn't reading it. Instead, his cold eyes looked only at the young couple. Back at their table, David suddenly felt nervous. 'Excuse me,' he said to Emma. He pushed his chair back and went to the toilet. As he looked in the mirror, he told himself: 'Come on, David, come on! You can do this, mate! She's crazy about you!' Feeling ready, he went out of the bathroom. He almost walked into the extremely tall man who was waiting by the door. The man's eyes were a cold, bright blue. His face was pale with a sharp, pointed nose and thin, pale lips. 'Oh, sorry!' said David. 'Which one?' the man hissed. He spoke with a strong and strange accent. David had never heard that accent before. For a moment, David was confused. Then he realised what the other man meant. 'Oh … this one!' said David, helpfully. 'This is the men's toilet!' David went back into the restaurant. He reached for the ring in a box in his pocket. It was time to ask her! ... The taxi ride home was wonderful. The happy couple discussed their future life together. They shared their sweet feelings about each other. 'The night I asked you to marry me!' said David. 'The night I said yes!' replied Emma. 'Just think, our whole lives together!' 'Sharing, caring, …' he began. '... loving, giving!' Emma finished his sentence. They smiled at each other in loving excitement. 'You are so wonderful!' said David. 'And you're absolutely beautiful!' said Emma. 'I've never met anyone so lovely and kind! I'm so happy I could sing!'
By IRSHAD MUHAMMADabout a year ago in Fiction
