Fan Fiction
"The Tiger Eats the Mother and Child.". Content Warning.
"The tiger eats the mother and child." In the middle of the deep forest where the moonlight only shone through, the sobs of the great hunter echoed in his heart. Guilt was eating away at his soul violently. He could not forget the image of his wife being dragged into the forest by the tiger, and his eldest son who almost lost his life in its clutches.
By Rohitha Lankaabout a year ago in Fiction
Peter Krause
Peter Krause was a quiet boy who lived in a small town near the mountains. He was fifteen years old, tall for his age, and always wore the same old blue jacket. He didn’t have many friends, not because he was mean or rude, but because he was shy. He liked to sit alone under the big oak tree near the school and read books about animals, the stars, and places he had never seen.
By Tahir khanabout a year ago in Fiction
GIBSON PIER. Content Warning.
Chapter 1: The Pier The first body turned up at sunrise, splayed like a gutted fish at the end of the Lakeshore Pier. The locals called it “The Plank”—a rotting finger of wood clawing into Lake Pontchartrain. Detective Elijah Boone stepped out of his SUV, the air thick with brine and decay. A kilo of cocaine glittered in the corpse’s hollowed chest like perverse confetti.
By Gibson Officialabout a year ago in Fiction
"Beneath the Waning Moon: A Witch's Oath to Shatter the Dark". Content Warning.
The air still hummed with spent power as Cormac stumbled into the mist-shrouded night, his shadow stretching long and brittle down the laneway like crackling parchment. Finola watched from the threshold, her silver hair catching the moonlight in a way that made Julie’s breath hitch—not merely strands of age, but threads of starlight pulled taut from the heavens.
By Gibson Officialabout a year ago in Fiction
The Poet and the Caged Muse
The town of Veridian Hollow was known for two things: its fog-soaked cobblestone streets and the poets who haunted them. Every dusk, ink-stained dreamers gathered in dimly lit taverns to recite verses about love, loss, and the ache of existence. But Elias Wren was different. He didn’t recite—he couldn’t. For three years, his quill had lain dormant, his parchment blank as the hollows of his heart.
By Sanchita Chatterjeeabout a year ago in Fiction
The Locket Under the Oak
The oak tree had always been a silent witness. Its leaves ruffled with tales that no one dared to hear, and its roots dug into the ground like ancient veins. It was simply "the haunted tree" at the woods' edge to the Willowbrook residents. But to 16-year-old Lila, it was a sanctuary—a place to escape her foster parents’ sharp words and the loneliness that gnawed at her bones.
By Md Johirul Islamabout a year ago in Fiction
