Fan Fiction
The Golden Bloom
For as long as anyone in the small town of Oakhaven could remember, the Harvest Festival float competition had been a cold war between two factions. On one side was Liam, the artistic, free-spirited owner of the local pottery studio. His floats were bursts of whimsical beauty, all flowing lines and abstract shapes that critics called "ahead of their time" and others called "a bit much."
By Habibullah12 months ago in Fiction
Dial 999 for Your Future Self
Dial 999 for Your Future Self By Hasnain Shah It started with a sticker on the inside of a bus shelter. The kind you usually ignore—cheap print, curled edges, probably someone’s attempt to advertise miracle weight-loss pills or forbidden streaming sites. But this one caught my eye because it said only four words:
By Hasnain Shah12 months ago in Fiction
The Room That Remembered Me
The Room That Remembered Me The house had been silent for so long that even my footsteps felt wrong, like I was waking something that had been asleep for years. Dust curled around my ankles as I walked the narrow hallway, past doors that opened easily, past rooms that had learned to live without attention. One door—that door—waited at the end, holding its breath the same way I had for two decades.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 12 months ago in Fiction
The Letters He Never Sent. AI-Generated.
Samuel Graves had not opened the study room in three years. Dust blanketed the shelves like tired snow; the curtains remained frozen in place, trapping darkness inside the walls. The house itself seemed to breathe differently when he stood at the doorway — as if recognizing him with a mixture of relief and sorrow.
By shakir hamid12 months ago in Fiction
The Last Song in the Snow. AI-Generated.
Anton Markovic was known only by the sound of his violin. He played every evening at the frozen train station under the city bridge, where footsteps echoed like ghosts and the cold bit the bones of anyone foolish enough to linger.
By shakir hamid12 months ago in Fiction
Cold Cuts: Chapter 1. Content Warning.
"Faith!" I called for my friend from the other room in the suite we were in. I needed her to tie up my dress and to see when she would be ready. We were both famous for being fashionably late, but we really needed to get to this venue on time tonight.
By scaldingblktea 12 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Sold Tomorrow. AI-Generated.
Gregor Vale had always believed time was not a river, but a marketplace. In the back corner of an old European alley, behind fogged glass and a tarnished brass sign, stood his tiny workshop — Vale & Sons: Custom Clocks Since 1882.
By shakir hamid12 months ago in Fiction
🎄 Snowfall, Strangers, and the Holiday They Never Planned
Introduction Some holidays creep up softly, without fireworks or grand expectations. They slip through the season like shy guests, waiting to see if you’ll notice them. And sometimes, the universe nudges two unlikely souls into sharing a day neither intended to share.
By Karl Jackson12 months ago in Fiction
