Fantasy

Devils Laugh. Top Story - May 2026.
The dark dream tore through his mind as if he was there again, standing on the battlements, watching his men lose their humanity. The ripping and tearing under the light of great fires, casting long shadows over the wet cobbled streets. The heat and ash began to cling to sweaty exposed skin, arms and face, the torn up shirt hanging onto his broad shoulders, but all he could hear was the devil laughing loud and deep, piercing the mind of every man and women in that accursed city.
By Brier6 months ago in Fiction
Diary of a Death Witch. Top Story - May 2026.
I’ve always had a feeling of being … off. I was always too wild, too imaginative, lost in a daydream. I was too comforted and attracted to the dark. I felt odd in the normal world. I felt uncomfortable in the light. I’ve never really been a girl of flowers and pastels.
By Leah Suzanne Dewey6 months ago in Fiction
The Last Light at Harrow House. AI-Generated.
The rain had been falling for three days when Daniel Voss pulled his car into the gravel lot outside Harrow House. It was the kind of September that made the English countryside look beautiful and sinister all at once hedgerows heavy with water, the hills smeared grey and green, the old hotel's Victorian facade rising out of the mist like something remembered from a bad dream. He had booked a single room. He had booked Room 4.
By Mark Lim 6 months ago in Fiction
The Last Memory Thief. AI-Generated.
The first time Elena forgot her mother's face, she was standing in line at a coffee shop. It wasn't dramatic. There was no gasping, no clutching her chest, no concerned strangers asking if she was alright. One moment, she could picture her mother's smile the way it crinkled the corners of her eyes, the slight asymmetry that made it hers. The next moment, there was nothing. Just a blank space where a face used to be.
By Mark Lim 6 months ago in Fiction
The Last Broadcast of Station Nine. AI-Generated.
The static came first. That was normal. Old frequency, dying relay towers, the usual interference. But then the voice cut through clear, steady, and utterly impossible.
By Mark Lim 6 months ago in Fiction
Adolf Hitler Eternal Therapy Session 669
Lucifer Morningstar sits behind a black mahogany desk, typing away in a sleek grey Google Chromebook. He has moon-shaped spectacles over his red eyes, the blacks of his stained white with exhaustion. A large counter over his head continuously ticks up in number to larger and larger numbers.
By Hope Martin6 months ago in Fiction
The Return (working title)
I stared out at the snow, debating how to broach the topic to my now-fiance. This wasn’t a normal my-family-is-weird-please-don’t-judge-me conversation. This was something I also believed in, would continue to believe in. Needed him to approve of, join in, and help me with for the rest of our lives.
By Phoenixica246 months ago in Fiction
The Winter
In the 10th century, high in the northern folds of the Himalayas, there lay a small village named Sardi. The villagers loved their home, for Sardi meant winter, and winter had always been their faithful companion. Snow arrived each year like an old friend; children learned to walk on frost‑hardened ground, and elders told stories beside warm fires.
By Iqraa Toqeer6 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker’s Last Hour. AI-Generated.
In a quiet corner of the city, hidden between a closed bookstore and a crumbling café, stood a shop that no one remembered opening.
By Waleed khan6 months ago in Fiction
VOID. Content Warning.
What if everything you know exists inside a boundary you cannot see? Not a wall. Not a limit you can touch. But a condition. An invisible frame that defines what is real, what is possible, and what is allowed to be understood.What if?
By Kelly Munala Brookes6 months ago in Fiction
The Shadow Who Stayed
Elena had stopped believing in magic the day she found her fiancé kissing her best friend in the bed they’d picked out together.
By Vincent Hale6 months ago in Fiction
The Letter I Received 10 Years Before it Was Written
The Letter I Received 10 Years Before it Was Written The floorboards groaned under my weight as I knelt in the corner of my father’s attic, the air thick with the smell of damp insulation and forgotten lives. I wasn't looking for a miracle. I was looking for a tax return from 1998. Instead, my fingers brushed against an envelope wedged deep behind a rusted filing cabinet.
By Unfiltered Guy6 months ago in Fiction