Horror
Last Call
Last Call On the mahogany table lay a deck of cards. They weren't made of paper, they were heavy and cool to the touch. Six friends sat frozen. Facing them from the shadows of the booth was the Dealer. It wore a tailored three-piece suit, but its face remained a shifting blur of smoke and dust, completely devoid of human features except for eyes that burned like dying stars.
By Alyson Smith 2 months ago in Fiction
You've Got A Friend In Me
Woody was old and that was one of the things Andy loved most about him. His earliest memory was of his mom pulling out the doll and filling Andy's desperate hands with his weight. His big head rested in the palms of his hands and his limp fabric body draped gently across his knees. From that day on, they had been inseparable. Andy's bedroom walls were a shrine to the cowboys aesthetic. The wallpaper was patterned with horseshoes, a brown felt cowboy hat hung gently over the bedpost, and Woody slept right beside Andy's cheek every night on a stitched patch work quilt. Life was good, in fact, Woody didn't think it could get any better.
By Sara Wilson2 months ago in Fiction
A Drunkard's Tale
The man stares at the fire. There weren't always dragons in the valley. The Voice of Death had swamped the moon mountains and killed thousands of livestock. It crossed the Co'bak rivers and spread like a disease until all that was left were dead animals, yoleans (insect dragons with many legs that fed on dead bodies), and migrating fire-breathing dragons.
By Nighttime Storyteller2 months ago in Fiction
The Last Move Counts. AI-Generated.
AI-Generated Content Disclosure: This story was written with the help of Claude (Anthropic) The board game arrived without a return address, and the moment Nora touched the box, every clock in her apartment stopped. She told herself it was a coincidence. She was wrong.
By 10min Stories3 months ago in Fiction
I Wasn't Going to Write About The Fedora Files
I want to start with the spreadsheet, because the spreadsheet is the part I can't explain away. I am - was - a normal person. I have a job with a lanyard. I water a plant. My screen time was embarrassing in the ordinary way, the way everyone's is: some news, some group chats, an hour of videos of people renovating vans I will never buy. I had opinions about nothing. I slept fine.
By CultureExplained3 months ago in Fiction
The Final Verse
Today was the beginning. The first man jumped at 8:17 a.m. He was a construction worker eating breakfast on the thirty-second floor of a high-rise. Security footage showed him freeze mid-bite, tilt his head as though someone had whispered his name, smile softly, and walk to the edge. He stepped off without hesitation.
By Kaori Knight 3 months ago in Fiction
The unlabelled jar
Chantal arrived at the shared house for a month; she immediately helped herself to everything. Entitled, ignoring boundaries, she went through shelves and foods that weren’t hers. She used anything from oats to unlabelled glass containers--she disliked plastic.
By Susan Fourtané 3 months ago in Fiction
The Journey Ends Here. Top Story - July 2026.
The greatest and most disturbing thing I have ever learned about humanity is the extent of our mortality: that in all the vastness of space, from the smallest molecule to the stars and planets, we’re really just a blip in time. The universe has no limits, no boundaries, and nothing to tell it to stop. It took chance after chance, rolling the dice, and we are the product of the one time that the universe got it right. Once accepted, this knowledge changes people. It crushes egos, shakes the soul into oblivion, and pushes the human psyche into madness so uncontrollable that a person would rather die than live every day consumed by an insatiable fear.
By L.M. Marlin3 months ago in Fiction
Crumpled Paper. Top Story - July 2026.
They say you never see a stranger’s face in your dreams. That every face you see in your dreams is someone stored in your subconscious. The woman at the grocery store sniffing the tomatoes last week, the kindly old man behind the counter who snuck you a free cookie at the bakery when you were five, the guy dancing in the background for three quarters of a second in a minor scene of your favorite movie.
By Amos Glade3 months ago in Fiction
