Fan Fiction
A Rendezvous with a Nightmare
The rain beat against the windscreen of the car, it was like the gods were firing at it with a machine gun, and everywhere I looked I got the feeling that I was the only one affected by the rain. I was on my way to the Takeshi’s Castle, a Korean Barbecue restaurant in an area of the city known as Little Italy.
By Alan Walkerabout a year ago in Fiction
Lion and sheep story
In a vast, untamed wilderness where the sun cast golden hues over rolling meadows and dense forests, there lived a lion named Asad. Renowned as the king of beasts, Asad’s roar echoed through the valleys, instilling both awe and fear among the creatures of the land. Despite his might, Asad often found himself contemplating the challenges of hunting alone. The swift-footed deer and the elusive antelope frequently evaded his grasp, leaving him to ponder alternative strategies.
By Najibullahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Secrets of The Forgotten City - Part 10 Final
Chapter 10: The City's Silent Scream The command signal thrummed in Anya’s mind, a faint, insistent pulse guiding them deeper into Aerilon’s metallic bowels. But the city fought back. The relief she'd felt after momentarily quieting the Living Gear's pain was a fleeting memory, replaced by a gnawing unease. Aerilon was no longer a passive landscape of forgotten technology; it was an active adversary, a wounded beast lashing out in self-preservation.
By hiteshsinh solankiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Secrets of The Forgotten City - Part 9
Chapter 9: Living Nightmare The library, with its promise of answers, now felt like a gilded cage. Every scroll, every metallic tome, seemed to whisper of Aerilon’s sins, of the darkness festering beneath its gleaming gears. The air itself tasted of regret and broken promises. Anya’s stomach churned, the horror of the Luminary Keepers’ pact a bitter pill she couldn’t swallow.
By hiteshsinh solankiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Secrets of The Forgotten City - Part 8
Chapter 8: Gears of Revelation The pounding of metal footsteps still echoed in Anya’s ears, a phantom percussion that drowned out even the city’s relentless hum. Silas, his face grim, pushed onward through the labyrinthine tunnels, his hand cannon still raised, every shadow a potential threat. Anya stumbled after him, the metallic tang of ozone burning her nostrils, the memory of the automaton’s cold, calculating gaze seared into her mind. Each breath felt like swallowing dust.
By hiteshsinh solankiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Secrets of The Forgotten City - Part 7
The corridor collapsed inward with a groan of tortured metal, spewing dust and sparking wires like a wounded beast. Anya stumbled, Silas’s grip a lifeline as the floor tilted beneath them. They scrambled back, coughing, as the passage transformed into a solid wall of gears, grinding against each other in a senseless, deafening symphony.
By hiteshsinh solankiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Secrets of The Forgotten City - Part 6
The gates groaned open like the sigh of a long-forgotten titan, their rusted edges scraping against stone with a sound that vibrated deep in Anya’s bones. A cool, stale breath washed over them, carrying the scent of dust, decay, and the faint, metallic tang of old oil. It was the smell of history, of forgotten grandeur, and of something else – a subtle undercurrent of pain that resonated within Anya, echoing her own unspoken fears.
By hiteshsinh solankiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Secrets of The Forgotten City - Part 5
The air, thick and heavy with the cloying sweetness of Lumina bloom, pressed down on them like a humid shroud. Days of relentless travel had etched themselves onto Silas's face, deepening the lines around his eyes, dusting his beard with a fine layer of ochre earth. Anya, however, seemed invigorated, her tarnished copper eyes gleaming with an almost feverish intensity. She moved with a newfound purpose, her senses heightened, as if the very ground vibrated with secrets only she could decipher.
By hiteshsinh solankiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Secrets of The Forgotten City - Part 4
The dawn arrived grudgingly, painting the eastern sky in bruised purples and sickly greens. Anya stood beside Silas at the edge of Oakhaven, the weight of her threadbare pack a physical manifestation of the responsibility she now carried. The villagers, faces etched with a mixture of fear and relief, watched from a distance, their silence a heavy shroud. Even Elder Mael, who'd once held her hand when she was small and terrified of the storm, wouldn’t meet her eye. She was leaving a piece of herself behind, a piece she wasn't sure she could ever reclaim.
By hiteshsinh solankiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Secrets of The Forgotten City - Part 3
Chapter 3: The Whispers Grow Louder The elders’ meeting hall smelled of stale pipeweed and simmering resentment. Anya stood by the warped wooden door, feeling smaller than she ever had. The room was thick with the silence that follows a foregone conclusion, the kind that suffocated hope before it could even sprout. Silas Blackwood, radiating a quiet, unsettling confidence, stood before the gathered villagers. He had the air of a hawk circling a field of mice, assessing the weakest points, the most readily exploitable fears.
By hiteshsinh solankiabout a year ago in Fiction
