Historical
When Life Breaks You
She cried silently in her room, it's midnight already, but her bleeding heart won't let her sleep. She tried watching funny reels and scrolling through TikTok videos, but the shadow of sadness lingered. She even switched off her phone and shut her eyes as memories of what happened earlier clouded her head.
By Muhammad Waseem 2 years ago in Fiction
The Old River Road
The Old River Road: A Journey into Darkness Old River Road had always been a place of fear after nightfall. The rumors never stopped—whispers about kidnappings, strange disappearances, and something sinister lurking in the dark. The silence of the road was suffocating, like it swallowed up all sound. It was as if anyone brave—or foolish—enough to walk it would be at the mercy of something far worse than they could imagine. That evening, around 8 pm, Tommy and I were making our way home. Our friend Thomas had begged us to stay the night at his house, advising us to leave in the morning for our safety. "It’s safer," he had warned, but Tommy was quick to dismiss his advice, insisting that we’d be fine. We had walked that road countless times before. Still, as we stepped into the darkness, a sense of unease gnawed at me, one I couldn’t shake. The road stretched out in front of us, flanked by half-finished buildings and thick, looming bushes. I had walked this path many times, but tonight felt different. It wasn’t just the deepening night—it was the air. It felt too still, too heavy, as though the world itself was holding its breath. "Quiet, isn’t it?" Tommy’s voice broke through the silence, but there was a sharpness in it I hadn’t heard before. I nodded, though I didn’t say anything. We kept walking, our footsteps echoing in the stillness. The further we went, the more oppressive the atmosphere became, as if the road itself was alive, squeezing tighter with each step. Suddenly, from the bushes, a faint rustling sound broke through the silence. My heart skipped a beat. "Did you hear that?" I asked, glancing nervously at Tommy. He smirked, a strange and unsettling grin. "Relax," he said with a calmness that felt too forced. "It’s just the wind." But I wasn’t so sure. Something was off tonight—something more dangerous than the tales of the road could explain. My eyes flickered toward the dark windows of the unfinished buildings. They seemed to be watching, waiting. "Maybe Thomas was right," I muttered under my breath. Tommy chuckled lowly. "He’s always overreacting," he said, his smile widening. But there was something colder about that smile, something unsettling. A chill ran down my spine. I quickened my pace, eager to get home, but the rustling returned, louder this time, closer, like someone—or something—was watching us. I froze. "Tommy, did you hear that?" He stopped, but instead of looking concerned, his face turned dark. His eyes glinted with an expression I couldn’t quite place. "It’s time you knew the truth," he said in a low voice, almost a whisper. "What do you mean?" My heart raced, dread creeping up my throat. Tommy turned fully to face me now, his earlier smirk replaced by something far colder, far more calculated. "This road isn’t dangerous because of the rumors, or the kidnappings, or the disappearances," he said slowly. "It’s dangerous because I made it that way." I stared at him, speechless. "What are you talking about?" "I control this road," he said, his voice chillingly calm. "The disappearances, the fear, the stories—they all started with me. This road is my domain. My playground." I stumbled backward, my mind struggling to comprehend his words. "That’s impossible." "Oh, but it’s not," Tommy said, taking a step closer. His eyes gleamed with something dark. "You’ve passed through here many times, but tonight is different. Tonight, you’re not just passing through." Panic surged within me. "What do you mean? Why—?" Before I could finish, the air around us seemed to change. It grew colder, darker. Shadows crawled out from the bushes, twisting unnaturally, as if they were responding to Tommy’s every word. My breath caught in my throat. "You see," Tommy continued, his voice smooth and steady, "the road answers to me. It takes whatever I want it to take and lets go of whatever I choose. It’s been mine for years. I’m the reason no one comes here after dark." I took another step back, my legs trembling beneath me. "Why are you telling me this?" Tommy’s smile was icy, and it sent a wave of terror through me. "Because tonight, I’m done hiding. And, unfortunately for you, you’re not leaving." The shadows around us pulsed with his words, closing in like a living, breathing entity. I stumbled backward, but it was too late. The darkness closed in on me, and the last thing I saw was Tommy’s cold, victorious smile. He had been the real danger all along. The road had never just been a road. It was Tommy’s. And tonight, it had claimed me too.
By Muhammad Waseem 2 years ago in Fiction
Fakehaber.net: Fake News or Fictional Art?
Enter Fakehaber.net, the internet's favorite space for humorous, bizarre, and utterly absurd content. But wait… when we say "fake," do we really mean fake, or is this all part of a creative, fictional art form? Let’s step into this strange world and find out why it's more fun than your average news source.
By Konusan Fikirler2 years ago in Fiction
Introduction - The Robot Army
This is the opening part of the intro explaining the family background for a work of sci-fi that takes place in the 2030's. The intro is meant to have elements of historical fiction and is meant to explain the roots of the main characters. Feedback appreciated.
By Miguel Iturrate2 years ago in Fiction
The Spider Queen
The river ran backwards on the day the queen vanished... The river of time. I had back-to-back meetings all day and needed to organize an evacuation in the Amazon as many beings there were being preyed upon, over abundantly, by unnatural predators.
By Alicia Anspaugh2 years ago in Fiction
The Harpist
In a dusty hostel in the low end of the machinist quarter, I worked as a server. My father worked in one of the smelters, and each night he would stumble in with his other workers and collapse into a table for hours, and spend their wage on drink and meat. Mother had already passed, and no one else was at home, so it seemed right to be near him and make sure he ate before he stumbled home again to sleep and ready himself for the next shift. When he died, there wasn't much reason for me to stay, but it felt like I couldn't be closer to my father anywhere else, and the men who knew him would check in on me from time to time, so I stayed on.
By Wray_written2 years ago in Fiction
Fairy Tales. Top Story - November 2024.
“The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished.” At least it was supposed to. That’s what they promised, the prophecy guaranteed. It didn’t, of course, though they kept claiming it truly happened at his command.
By Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock2 years ago in Fiction
The Magikor. Runner-Up in Fantasy Prologue II Challenge.
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. The first to notice were the priests, rising early to pray by the water's edge. Next were the fishermen, preparing their vessels and nets for the day’s work. The rest of the village learned of the river’s reversal from children sent to fetch pails of water, who returned empty-handed, eager to share the strange news. By midmorning, all of West Karlif was gathered at the riverbank—some in stunned silence, others chattering excitedly, and the rest on bent knees, begging for God’s forgiveness for sins they could not name.
By J. Nicholas Merchen2 years ago in Fiction
