Mystery
The Portrait That Grew Older
The portrait was the first thing Eleanor noticed when she entered the house. It hung above the fireplace in the drawing room, surrounded by an elaborate golden frame. The painting depicted a young woman with pale skin, dark hair, and eyes so lifelike that Eleanor felt an uncomfortable sensation of being watched.
By Silvia Felacoabout 9 hours ago in Fiction
We Don't Talk to Edith Thompson Part 4. Content Warning.
Ch 4: Sweet Revenge September 30th, 2025-7:45 PM She just... stared at me like she had nothing to do with my hospitalization, as if she were an innocent bystander who watched me. Protected me from... what exactly? Seizures? Flashbacks? Mystical powers?
By Rain Dayzea day ago in Fiction
The Woman in the Attic
Chapter One: The House on Blackthorn Hill The first time Emily heard the woman crying, she thought it was the wind. It was late October, and rain had been falling for three days. The old house on Blackthorn Hill stood surrounded by bare trees, its windows dark and its wooden walls creaking whenever the wind grew stronger.
By Silvia Felaco2 days ago in Fiction
We Don't Talk to Edith Thompson Part 3. Content Warning.
Ch 3: History Lesson ????-??:?? ~~~ I felt like I was floating; slowly hovering through a black realm of blackness. I couldn't feel cold or warmth, just indifference. And then it happened. I was lying on a wooden, splintering table, and a man twice my age was having sex with me. We were both wearing old clothes, like something someone would wear in the 17th-century. He didn't speak, just grunted and panted as he thrusted between my thighs. It burned. More than I thought it should. Almost as if I were being torn apart from the inside.
By Rain Dayze2 days ago in Fiction
THE LITTLE BLACK BOOK
Chapter One: The Stranger I am writing this in the hope that whoever reads it will make better decisions than I ever did. My name is Brandon Dune, and until one cold November evening, I was an ordinary twenty-seven-year-old man working late shifts at a convenience store three blocks from my apartment. I wasn’t particularly happy with my life, but I wasn’t miserable either. I simply wanted to earn enough money to pay my rent without having to worry about where my next meal would come from.
By Siya A. Jay4 days ago in Fiction
YESTERDAY’S MEMORIES
Donna and her mother, Cora, are sitting on the steps outside of their apartment, eyeing the same people: the homeless pushing their shopping carts of belongings, the alcoholics with their whisky in brown paper bags, which they share with each other, and the scantily dressed prostitutes, day after day, walking back and forth in the neighborhood going somewhere but getting nowhere. The sound of police sirens and ambulances is often heard as they speed up and down the streets.
By Frankie Berry Wise5 days ago in Fiction
Aurelius Ascends (part 4)
The digital oscillations continued without any clear sign of letting up; instead, the sounds began resonating deeper inside the triple-hulled spacecraft like an eerie prehistoric subterranean drumbeat. The sound no longer came from the harsh coldness of space. It seemed to emanate from far below the Martian substrate itself, a signal buried so deep beneath the planet's surface that it remained safely hidden from the impenetrably wide dust storms, beneath the fractured plains, and beneath the violent meteorological chaos that had made the planet feasibly uninhabitable for centuries.
By Jonathan Townend5 days ago in Fiction
