Fantasy
The Last First Kiss
Chapter 1: Strangers Again The airport smelled of jet fuel, coffee, and fresh starts. Claire’s fingers curled tighter around her boarding pass as the announcement for Flight 727 to Paris echoed overhead. She had waited for this trip her whole life—an art scholarship, a new city, and a chance to forget.
By Sarwar Zebabout a year ago in Fiction
The Alien Mirror That Pulled Me to Another World
It’s Wednesday, May 14, 2025, and just a few minutes ago, at 2:52 PM +06, I was up in the dusty attic of my family’s old farmhouse in rural Oregon. I’m Liam, a 16-year-old kid who spends most days helping Dad with the cows or messing around with my guitar. Life’s pretty quiet here, but today I found something wild while digging through Grandpa’s old boxes—a round mirror with a silver frame covered in weird, twisty carvings. When I wiped the dust off, the glass rippled like water, and a low hum filled the room. I leaned in to get a better look, and the next thing I knew, I was falling through it, landing in a place that wasn’t Oregon—or Earth. That’s how I met some of the strangest beings I’ve ever seen, aliens from a parallel universe, and it turned my world upside down.
By Ahmed Jubayerabout a year ago in Fiction
Wondering Woods
The Wondering Woods is a place of dark, whimsical magic. Do you want to know why it’s called the Wondering Woods? It’s been given that name because not only do the souls of the lost travelers endlessly wander through the tall trees and lush grasses, but also. It’s because the woods themselves move. They never stay in the same place, wandering around the world collecting souls. It is said that the woods are searching for a certain soul to free them all from a wicked curse—a curse of what I do not know. The story changes every time it is told. To some, the forest is dying and needs a new tree of life that can only be created by a pure soul. Others say it's looking like it's lost Queen or King. But the one I believe is that an ancient fae prince was cursed to wander these woods never to find his mate. But as time passed, the forest began to wander with him. And now the forest collects souls.
By Amber Zajecabout a year ago in Fiction
The Night of Flames
The night it all began, the sky was quiet, and the stars were bright. In the small village of Emberbrook, people were preparing for the Summer Festival. Laughter filled the air, and lanterns danced in the wind. Children chased fireflies, and the smell of fresh bread floated from the baker’s oven.
By Inayat Aliabout a year ago in Fiction
Onyx Storm (by Rebecca Yarros)
Onyx Storm Violet stood at the edge of the battlement, the wind screaming like a creature enraged. The storm was coming—not just any storm, but the Onyx Storm, the one her mother had warned her about since childhood. The one that didn't just bring lightning and wind, but death and awakening.
By FAIZAN AFRIDIabout a year ago in Fiction
The Library Between Realms
Rain tapped against the attic window as Elara rummaged through her grandmother’s old trunks. It was the kind of afternoon meant for cocoa and stories—but Elara wasn’t in the mood for tea. She was in search of something... curious. Her grandmother had passed away a month ago, leaving behind the ancient manor and a strange final message: “The key finds you when you're ready.” It sounded like one of her bedtime riddles. But today, nestled inside a velvet pouch beneath a stack of dusty quilts, Elara found it. A brass key—aged but gleaming. Its bow was carved like a tree, its stem twisted like a vine. As her fingers closed around it, a pulse of warmth shot through her hand. ---------------------------------------------- The Door That Wasn’t There She wandered the attic with the key in hand, uncertain what it opened—until she noticed something odd. A narrow gap in the brick wall where none had ever been. A faint outline shimmered like heat on stone. Elara pressed the key against it. Click. The wall rippled like water. A door appeared—tall, wooden, and engraved with ancient runes. It swung open slowly, releasing a breath of musty paper, candle wax, and time. --------------------------------- The Hidden Library Inside stretched a circular library, shelves spiraling from floor to ceiling. No dust. No cobwebs. Just the quiet hum of magic. Floating candles lit the room. Tomes whispered as their pages turned themselves. In the center stood a librarian—not a person, but a shadow shaped like one. Its voice echoed in her mind. “Welcome, Keybearer. You may read, but do not release.” Elara wasn’t sure what that meant, but she wandered the aisles in wonder. There were books with glowing titles, scrolls that sang lullabies, and volumes bound in feathers, leaves, even whispers. One book in particular caught her eye—black with silver trim, locked shut with a clasp shaped like a claw. Its title: “The Revenant King.” ----------------------------------------- Temptation and Curiosity Elara asked the librarian shadow, “Why is this one locked?” “Because he remembers.” That night, she couldn’t sleep. The book tugged at her thoughts. So she returned. Slipped into the library. Held the key against the clasp. It opened. Pages fluttered. Words slithered. A chill swept the room. Then silence. Elara stared at the open book. Nothing seemed to have happened. Until the candles blew out. -------------------- The Escape The next morning, Elara’s world was different. Her town’s clocktower stood frozen at midnight. Birds hovered in the sky like paintings. People moved but cast no shadows. Only Elara noticed. In the mist by the river, she saw him—tall, pale, and cloaked in ash. The Revenant King. He turned toward her and smiled. Not cruel. Not kind. Just... empty. “You read me,” he whispered. “And now I remember.” ---------------------------------
By TheSilentPenabout a year ago in Fiction
When Dreams Remember
Elira had always felt the quiet pull of something forgotten. It began in dreams. At first, fragments—soft music on the wind, a boy’s laugh echoing in a golden field, the scent of rain on stone. But soon, the dreams grew vivid. A world she had never known yet somehow mourned. A boy with storm-grey eyes who called her by a name she didn’t remember. Then came the attic. After her grandmother’s passing, Elira returned to the house she hadn’t entered since she was ten. Dust blanketed every surface, time frozen in shadowed corners. While sorting through the remnants of a life, she found it—a silver locket, its face etched with symbols unfamiliar, yet oddly comforting. As her fingers closed around it, a warmth pulsed through her chest. The attic swirled and fell away. She stood in a vast field of gold, the sky above streaked with violet clouds. Wind danced through tall grass, whispering words in a forgotten tongue. And there, as he always was, stood the boy. Kaelen. "You’ve returned," he said softly, as if the years hadn't passed. "But… you don’t remember me." She stepped back. “Who are you?” His eyes dimmed with hurt. “You were mine. And I was yours. Before time broke us apart.” Each night, the dreams continued, and with them, Kaelen waited. Gentle. Patient. Tragic. He never pushed her to remember. He only told her stories—of a war that had shattered the world, of a Keeper who held the knowledge to stop it, and of the choice she made to forget, to protect that knowledge from those who would twist it. "You sealed your memories to save lives," he told her. "But memory is like the tide. It returns." In the waking world, Elira turned to old books, crumbling ruins, and half-whispered myths. She met Callen, a reclusive historian who recognized the language on the locket: Valean, lost in the Cataclysm War centuries ago. “It shouldn’t be possible,” Callen said. “But this locket—it’s ancient. And so are you, in a way.” With Callen’s help, Elira uncovered evidence of the Valeans—of their culture, their fall, and the Keeper who vanished with the knowledge that could reshape the world. It all led to one truth: the dreams were not dreams. They were memories. Hers. One night, in that twilight world, Elira finally asked, “Kaelen… who was I?” His answer was quiet. “The Keeper of Truth. The one who chose love… and then chose duty.” Elira felt it then—a weight deep inside her, like a door unlocking. Memories flooded in. The temple. The locket. Her choice to seal it all away. And Kaelen, begging her not to leave him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I left you alone.” Kaelen shook his head. “You saved me. You saved everyone. But the war is returning. And this time, you don’t have to face it alone.” They found the temple days later, hidden beneath a forgotten mountain. Glyphs lit up when Elira approached, the locket glowing in her hand. Within the sealed chamber, a silver-bound book lay on a pedestal. The moment she touched it, the past returned in full: the war, the betrayal, the knowledge that could create or destroy entire nations. But also—Kaelen’s hand in hers, the promise they made, the love they shared. Tears fell freely. She turned to Callen. “We could seal it away again. Let it fade.” Callen studied her. “But it’s waking. The world is stirring. And you… you remember.” Elira closed the book. “This time, I choose both. Love and truth. Memory and action. I won’t forget again.” Kaelen’s voice echoed in her mind, steady and sure: “You’re not alone.” Elira stood at the threshold of past and future, locket in hand, heart wide open. The Keeper had returned
By Kaleem Ullahabout a year ago in Fiction
Restoration. Top Story - May 2025.
The healer’s hands glowed slightly as she moved them over the child’s head. Her fingers danced in the air, matching the rhythm of her humming like she was playing an instrument. Her dress was a pale blue, and she wore her hair tied back in a low bun, safely out of her face. She was spotless, despite the blood on the boy’s face.
By Alexander McEvoyabout a year ago in Fiction
