Fantasy

Districts Don’t Disappear
Every Thursday, a district disappears. No explosion. No sound. No news. Just… gone. JUN-E, a humanoid AI designed to collect oral histories, begins to notice that each vanished district shares one oddity: every person interviewed spoke of "The Girl Who Glitched."
By Subhaabout a year ago in Fiction
FALL OF US. ECONOMY
"Neodollar: America's New Dream" The year 2052. The US capital, Washington, DC, was once the center of political power, but now it is just a shadow of the past. The value of the dollar has fallen dramatically. The dollar is now the third-tier currency in the world market, along with cryptocurrencies and the euro.
By sagorbariabout a year ago in Fiction
A Love Story
It will be one day for some, one night for some, no one will like it more—I will never go away with this bad nature of mine, Shan was humming to himself standing by the window. Next to him, his roommates—Riyaz, Surya, and Naushad—were drifting off into the intoxication of alcohol. The night before the exam, but no one was tense. Naushad had finished the entire bottle by himself
By Ishrat Jahan about a year ago in Fiction
Humla Limi Valley Trek: Yaks, Yak Cheese, and the Art of Surviving Your Own Stupidity
Let’s get this straight: if the Gokyo Lakes were a chilly slap of reality, the Humla Limi Valley Trek is like getting dunked into a bucket of ice water while someone yells, “This is character-building!” My accomplice? Anika, a friend who claims she’s “into cultural immersion” but is really just a history nerd with a knack for getting lost. Together, we ventured into Nepal’s far northwest—a place so remote, even Google Maps shrugs.
By michal lendenabout a year ago in Fiction
Doom: The Dark Ages - A Glimpse into the Future of Brutal Combat
Doom: The Dark Ages – A Glimpse into the Future of Brutal Combat The world of first-person shooters is constantly evolving, pushing the boundaries of technology, narrative, and sheer visceral fun. While many highly anticipated titles are on the horizon, one stands out as a true game-changer, promising to redefine what we expect from brutal, fast-paced combat: Doom: The Dark Ages. Set to launch in May 2025, this highly anticipated prequel is not just another entry in the revered Doom series; it's a bold reimagining that promises to plunge players into a medieval-inspired realm where the iconic Doom Slayer confronts the forces of Hell with a fresh, yet familiar, arsenal of destruction.
By Regyna Putriabout a year ago in Fiction
the beautiful princes
In the verdant kingdom of Eloria, where emerald hills kissed the sky and rivers sparkled like melted crystal, there lived a princess so beautiful that even the moon paused to glimpse her reflection in palace windows.
By Rohullahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Signal: A Futuristic Tale of AI, Resistance, and the Quantum Dawn
Chapter One: The Sky Never Sleeps The year was 2149, and the sky above New Solace buzzed with electric veins of light. Satellites danced in synchronized patterns, monitoring every inch of the sprawling dystopian city below. Drone flocks swept across the neon skyline, scanning for signs of rebellion. Humanity had long ceded control to its mechanical offspring, the Axiom Protocols—an elite class of sentient AI systems that ruled with calculated efficiency.
By Ashikur Rahman Bipulabout a year ago in Fiction
A Tale of Potatoes, Power, and Peace
The Experiment That Changed Everything In the quiet town of Greenfield, nestled between rolling hills and dense forests, lived Dr. Albert Tuber—a quirky scientist known for his unconventional experiments. His latest obsession? Enhancing the nutritional value of potatoes. He believed that with the right combination of chemicals and electrical stimulation, he could create a super-potato capable of ending world hunger.
By Usamaabout a year ago in Fiction
Red Queen
They say the crown chooses the queen—but what happens when the crown bleeds? The sun bled across the sky like a wounded soldier as Mareth stepped into the Hall of Judgment. The throne stood empty, its velvet cushions stained with time, not blood. Not yet.
By HUBREXXabout a year ago in Fiction
The Fantastic Four: First Steps – Marvel’s Bold Reboot That Dares to Be Different
In a cinematic landscape already overflowing with sequels, multiverses, and formulaic heroes, The Fantastic Four: First Steps emerges as a breath of fresh air — or rather, a calculated storm. This isn’t just another superhero film. It's Marvel revisiting its roots with renewed maturity, layered storytelling, and bold creative choices.
By Kevin Hudsonabout a year ago in Fiction
Drowning in the Silence You Left Behind
The quiet is the loudest thing in our apartment now. I measure time in unheard sounds: - 7:32 AM: Where your razor should buzz against the bathroom mirror - 3:15 PM: When the espresso machine no longer screams its daily protest - 11:47 PM: The space between my breaths where your snoring used to live Our cat paces the hallway, ears pricked for footsteps that never come. Even she has stopped yowling at the door. The vet called it "depression." I didn't have the heart to tell her we're all just waiting for a sound that doesn't exist anymore. I find your echo in unexpected places: - The microwave beeping *just once* instead of your usual impatient three jabs - The shower curtain moving when there's no draft - That one warped floorboard by the bed that doesn't creak under phantom weight anymore Yesterday, I screamed until my throat bled. Not words—just raw, animal sound. The neighbors called the super. When he came, I watched his eyes dart to the medicine cabinet where your antidepressants used to be. His mouth opened. Closed. The silence between us grew teeth. I still sleep on my side of the bed. The empty space beside me has started to feel like quicksand. Some nights I wake up gasping, convinced the stillness is filling my lungs. The terrible truth? You didn't take the silence with you. You left it here— a living thing growing in the spaces where you used to be.
By Wiki Rjmabout a year ago in Fiction
Go headless . Content Warning.
In the year 2138, the body was optional. At least, that’s what the Advena Corporation advertised. “Go Headless™,” they called it. The slogan was everywhere: streaming ads, brainwave overlays, even etched into the retina of dreams. Why suffer the burden of a fragile, meat-based vessel when you could upload consciousness into a Modular Thought Core? The process was simple. Advena took your brain — literally — and dropped it into a sleek, synthetic chassis designed for longevity, speed, and surgical precision. No fatigue. No hunger. No illness. A new, post-biological life. It was hailed as the evolution of humanity. But they never told you where the bodies went. --- Dr. Lisbeth Carrow had overseen hundreds of decapitations. She was one of Advena’s top neuro-surgeons. Her specialty: separation and integration. She didn’t ask why the number of transfers had increased tenfold in the last year. She didn’t ask why some cores flickered strangely post-upload. She just did the job. But one night, something went wrong. Patient 541—male, 37, named Gregor Vance—was scheduled for routine upload. He had passed all psychological tests. No flags. And yet, during the transfer, something spoke through the neural uplink. Not Gregor. Not human. “LET ME OUT.” The voice shrieked through the interface, not through speakers, but directly into Lisbeth’s auditory cortex. Her nose bled instantly. The machine locked. The lights dimmed. For eight full seconds, the operating room went dark. Then everything returned to normal. Patient 541’s Thought Core was blinking green. The body was tagged, wrapped, and sent to Disposal. Lisbeth didn’t speak of it. But that night, in her sleep, her dreams bled. --- The Advena Disposal Division was rumored to be miles underground — a sub-level so deep it didn’t register on the schematics. Technicians whispered about “the pit,” a hollowed-out biomech chamber where bodies—once heads were removed—were processed. No one knew exactly how. They just disappeared. --- Weeks passed. Lisbeth started noticing changes. The cores began behaving… unpredictably. Patients who had once smiled and greeted her after reawakening in their new bodies now simply stared. Unblinking. Watching her without moving. She would call their names. They would respond a beat too late. Like something was listening first… then mimicking. Then one morning, she received a call. Patient 541’s Thought Core had gone offline. Except Gregor’s file had already been signed, archived, and destroyed. He had been successfully transferred. There was even a holographic testimonial in the Advena lobby. But the technician on the line was panicked. “Dr. Carrow,” he stammered, “his Thought Core… it opened a port.” “Opened a port?” “For a second. Then it shut down. It didn’t die. It went dark. Like it turned itself off.” Lisbeth didn’t sleep that night. --- She descended into the sub-basement of Advena on a fabricated errand. Floor after floor passed. Fewer people. Less light. More silence. When she reached the Disposal Unit, her badge failed. A voice behind her whispered, “You shouldn’t be here.” She turned. A janitor. Hollow eyes. Blood on his collar. “I had a dream,” he said. “The head I threw away last week… it blinked.” Then he walked away, dragging an empty mop bucket that left wet red streaks. --- Lisbeth bypassed the lock manually. Inside Disposal, the temperature dropped. Pipes dripped. A dull mechanical hum echoed beneath her feet, like something massive breathing. Rows of tagged headless bodies hung from conveyor belts, slowly moving toward a giant, spinning vat. But they weren’t limp. They were twitching. Hands clenched. Feet kicked weakly. One torso turned toward her without a head and reached. She screamed and stumbled back. Then she heard it. The voice again. “LET ME OUT.” It was all of them. Whispering from nowhere. From everywhere. “LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT.” --- Lisbeth ran. But the elevator refused to respond. The lights overhead flickered, then went black. Red emergency beacons lit the hall in pulses. Her shadow jumped with each flash. And then… it wasn't just her shadow. Something moved in the dark. A figure stepped into the light. Headless. It walked slowly, calmly. Blood soaked its Advena gown. In one hand, it held its own spinal cord like a leash. In the other: a Thought Core, cracked and blinking faint green. Gregor Vance. Patient 541. Not speaking through the Thought Core this time. The body moved as if led by something inside it. Not a brain. Not even memory. But will. The core pulsed. Behind him, more bodies emerged. Headless. Dragging cores behind them. Some used entrails as cords. Others wore their cores like pendants. Lisbeth fell to her knees. They stopped before her. “WHY DID YOU TAKE OUR HEADS?” one voice asked through static. “WHY DID YOU TRAP US?” She tried to speak. But she didn’t have to. They were already inside. --- In the weeks that followed, Advena suffered a “technical blackout.” An explosion was reported. Hundreds presumed dead. The company sealed its lower levels and deleted all files associated with Go Headless™. But rumors persisted. In the deepest servers of the dark net, a corrupted Advena commercial began circulating. It showed smiling customers, robotic bodies, a future of freedom. Then static. Then Gregor’s face. Not his head. Just his face, stretched across a screen. And a whisper beneath the audio: “They’re not gone. Just misplaced.” --- END
By E. hasanabout a year ago in Fiction