Fantasy
In Love With a Stranger on the Train
It started on a Tuesday—ordinary, gray, unremarkable. The kind of morning when the sky forgets to rise with conviction and people shrink into their coats, blending into the city’s shuffle. Mia boarded the 7:45 a.m. commuter train from Willow Creek to downtown like she did every day, earbuds in, coffee in hand, mind already halfway through her to-do list.
By Haris Raheemabout a year ago in Fiction
Rain Fell, and So Did I
The sky was a heavy, bruised gray when I stepped outside that afternoon. I hadn’t noticed the weather report—probably because I didn’t want to. Sometimes, ignorance feels like protection. But as the first cold drops began to fall, I knew I was caught unprepared. The rain had come sudden and relentless, as if the heavens themselves were weeping for reasons I could only guess at.
By Haris Raheemabout a year ago in Fiction
WAR OF THE WORLDS (2025) – A Terrifying Mirror of Our Own Destructio
You’re not ready for this invasion. Aliens may be the enemy, but humanity is the real story. Director Jordan Vance’s 2025 take on War of the Worlds isn’t just a remake—it’s a reinvention. It rips the skin off the classic H.G. Wells novel and exposes something far more terrifying: us.
By Kevin Hudsonabout a year ago in Fiction
The Shape of Love in the Dark
The world went dark for Lila one winter morning when her vision vanished without warning. It had begun with blurred shapes, flashes of light, and migraines. Doctors called it a rare degenerative condition—fast, irreversible, incurable. By the time the snow had melted, Lila lived in permanent night.
By Haris Raheemabout a year ago in Fiction
I Paid a Witch to Erase My Memories But They’re Coming Back
I Paid a Witch to Erase My Memories But They’re Coming Back You don’t find witches in neon-lit cities or suburban cul-de-sacs. You find them in the cracks of reality between the forgotten and the forbidden. I didn’t seek her out because I believed in magic. I sought her because I was desperate to forget.
By Farooq Hashmiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Refused to Die in the Script
The boy was supposed to die in Chapter Eleven. It was all written—clear as day, black ink on white paper. A tragic fall. A final breath. Tears. Regret. A lesson for the survivors. That kind of death. Meaningful, dramatic, necessary.
By Alain SUPPINIabout a year ago in Fiction
Godfrey's Grimoire
"You dolt, Godfrey!" Meister Bartholomew is not pleased. Actually, that is something of an understatement. He is displeased and then some. The last year has permitted me to become intimately acquainted with his whole palette of wrath, from mildly peeved to seething with rage. He is running in the direction of the latter. Again.
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Fiction
