Fan Fiction
Waking Dogs, Part 3: War Hounds
(The first two parts of this story, Waking Dogs and Broken Chains can also be found on Vocal.) The Cage rang with the bellows of battle, the clash of steel, and the howls of those lost to frenzy. The space was lit by pyres of bodies stacked at either end of the arena, the burning dead filling the air with the smell of charred flesh and bubbling blood. Men and women fought and died, wielding bloody axes and spears, swords, mauls, and other brutal weapons. Some sparked with power fields, and others roared with ripping chain teeth, but others were older, cruder things. It didn’t matter in the end, for they all broke bones and rent flesh, letting out the rushing, spurting fluids that ran in rivers along the deck plates, dripping through rotting drains that seemed to greedily drink the offerings given to them.
By Neal Litherlandabout a year ago in Fiction
The Ember Crown
Chapter 1: Ash and Echoes As dusk settled over the cliffs of Elaren, the wind howled through the jagged stones like a chorus of unseen voices. Below, the village of Darnholm lay half-buried beneath layers of ash, its remnants silent under the weight of Mount Virel’s restless fury. The volcano’s blackened peak smoldered in the twilight, a dying ember against the darkening sky.
By Mayaz ahmedabout a year ago in Fiction
In the Quiet, I Loved You
A Chance Meeting It was just another rainy afternoon when Akhun met Afsana. The sky was grey, and the streets were wet, but inside that moment, something beautiful began. They had both taken shelter under the same broken bus stop. Akhun noticed her first — her calm presence, the way her scarf danced in the wind, and the warmth in her quiet smile. He offered her his umbrella. She politely refused but thanked him anyway. That small exchange left something unsaid — a quiet connection that neither of them expected. Days passed, but fate wasn’t done with them. They kept bumping into each other at the university library, in coffee shops, and at poetry readings. Eventually, those accidental meetings turned into plans. Love in Small Moments Their love didn’t bloom with grand gestures. It grew slowly, like the gentle turning of pages in a beloved book. Akhun was a dreamer, always scribbling poetry in the corners of his notebook. Afsana was a listener — patient, kind, and deeply understanding. She never asked him to impress her; she simply sat beside him and listened. He recited poems to her, and she’d smile, eyes glowing with emotion. Sometimes they would sit in silence, sharing one cup of tea, saying nothing, but feeling everything. Those small moments were where their love truly lived, nestled in between everyday things that most people overlooked. Afsana once said, “Love doesn’t always need words. Some hearts speak without them.” And that was how they loved — in silence, in gestures, in understanding. Life’s Sudden Turn But life, as it often does, changed without warning. Afsana’s father got transferred to another city, and within a week, she had to leave. There was no proper goodbye. Only a long hug at the train station and a promise — “We’ll stay in touch.” They tried, at first. Calls. Messages. Video chats. But reality got in the way. Akhun was working long hours, trying to get his writing career started. Afsana was teaching in a remote town where the internet came and went like passing clouds. Slowly, the calls grew less frequent. The messages stopped altogether. Not because the love was gone — but because sometimes, life doesn’t wait for love to catch up. The distance between them grew, but neither could ever truly forget the bond they shared. The letters she wrote him — which arrived weeks after being sent — were cherished like precious keepsakes. And his poems, though sometimes written in sorrow, were never written without her in mind. Akhun kept hoping that the love they once shared would find a way to bridge the growing divide. Years Later Five years passed. Akhun published his first poetry book — a dream Afsana had always believed in. He returned to the old city for a book signing. As he walked through the familiar streets, every corner whispered her name. The café they loved, the bookstore they visited, even the park bench where they once sat in the rain — all still carried traces of her. And then, in that very bookstore, he saw her. She stood in the poetry section, holding his book, unaware he was behind her. Time slowed. The years vanished. She turned, and their eyes met. No words were spoken. None were needed. In the Quiet, I Loved You That night, they walked together, just like old times. Akhun asked, “Did you ever stop thinking about us?” Afsana smiled, eyes soft. “No. I just stopped saying it out loud.” And that was it — the love never left. It had waited patiently, hidden in the quiet spaces of their lives. In unfinished poems. In unspoken goodbyes. In memories tied to rain, coffee, and unread messages. Some love stories are loud, full of fire and chaos. The grand declarations, the dramatic gestures, and the intense passions — all of those make for the kind of love stories that are often remembered. But theirs? It was gentle. It was patient. It was the kind of love that lives on… in the quiet. They understood each other without needing to explain everything. They had both grown, but they had also stayed the same in some ways — two souls that had always been tethered by something deeper than time or distance. As they walked along the cobblestone streets, the love they had once known was not lost. It was revived, renewed, and resurgent. Their love may not have followed the conventional path. It may not have been loud or flashy, but it was real. Real in a way that words could never describe, real in the way they could sit for hours without saying a word and still know exactly what the other was thinking. The love they shared was not measured by the number of moments spent together but by the silent promises made in every glance, every touch, and every heartbeat.
By Hazrat Bilalabout a year ago in Fiction
The Hating Game
👩💼👨💼 Meet Lucy and Josh Office Enemies Lucy Hutton is cheerful, kind, and loves wearing bright clothes and lipstick. She’s a people pleaser who believes in being nice to everyone. She works at Bexley & Gamin, a publishing house created when two very different companies merged.
By Muhammad Hayatabout a year ago in Fiction
Get a Life, Chloe Brown
🌧️ Meet Chloe Brown Chloe Brown is a smart, sarcastic, and super-organized woman in her early thirties. She’s a web designer who works from home, drinks lots of tea, and loves warm, soft clothes. She also lives with chronic pain from a condition called fibromyalgia.
By Muhammad Hayatabout a year ago in Fiction
The Letter Under Her Pillow
The Letter Under Her Pillow Amira had always been a quiet soul. The kind of girl who walked through life like a whisper—present, but barely heard. She kept her thoughts hidden behind soft smiles and polite nods. People thought she was peaceful. In truth, she was tired.
By Mahveen khanabout a year ago in Fiction
The teddy that talked back
The bond between Mim and Teddy grew even closer over the following few days. Every night, when Mim fell asleep, Teddy would take her to new realms of imagination. Sometimes they would ride on flying carpets, drift on clouds like rafts, and other times they would dive deep into the ocean to find lost treasures. With Teddy, Mim had many adventures in her young life. "Tonight, we're going to a place where rainbows play," Teddy told Mim one night. Mim was very excited. Riding on Teddy's back, they flew into the sky. When they got to the cloud kingdom, they realized that a rainbow fair was actually going on. The sky shimmered with lights of different colors, and strange creatures walked on the rainbow bridges.
By Durjoy Kumar Dasabout a year ago in Fiction
The Notebook
The Notebook is a touching and emotional love story written by Nicholas Sparks. It tells the tale of two young people, Noah Calhoun and Allie Hamilton, who fall in love one summer but are pulled apart by life, family, and time. Despite all odds, their love stands the test of time and proves that true love never fades.
By Muhammad Hayatabout a year ago in Fiction
