Mystery

The Train I Almost Missed. AI-Generated.
The 7:45 train was late again — just like it always was on Mondays. The platform was crowded with tired faces and the smell of burnt coffee. Everyone looked impatient, as if being late was the greatest tragedy of their day.
By shakir hamidabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Voicemail. AI-Generated.
The first time Ethan heard her voice again, it was by accident. He had been cleaning his apartment — or pretending to — when he pressed play on an old voicemail.
By shakir hamidabout a year ago in Fiction
The Forgotten Soldier. AI-Generated.
The train screeched to a halt, its brakes screaming like wounded metal. Among the passengers stepping out was a man in a faded military jacket, the insignia half-torn, the name patch unreadable. His eyes carried the weight of years he could no longer measure Captain Aaron Hale had returned home. Or at least, he thought he had.
By Farooq Hashmiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Brass Eye. Winner in Through the Keyhole Challenge.
I pull up in my wheelchair, hoping to see something—anything—through the keyhole in my flat door, sitting there waiting for something, anything to happen.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Fiction
Project SoulLink
The chamber was called the "Chrysalis." Dr. Aris Thorne called it a cathedral. Lying on the bio-plinth next to her was Kael, her research partner and, for the last five years, her husband. Today, they would become the first human subjects of Project SoulLink.
By Habibullahabout a year ago in Fiction
Imprisoned. Top Story - October 2025.
The sea, the sky, the stars, the sun; all look within reach, within the realms of possibilities. Like I can reach out with mine own hands, and pluck the glittering lights from the night sky. Or caress the gentle white lines of foam that scatter themselves across the vast endless sea.
By Liam Stormabout a year ago in Fiction
The Clock That Stopped at Midnight
When I was six, I believed our house had a heartbeat. Every night, the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway was the rhythm of our lives. My mother used to say, “As long as it ticks, we’re safe.”
By Azlan shahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Photograph That Shouldn’t Exist
When I opened the last box from my father’s study, I expected the usual things: tax papers, receipts, maybe another one of his notebooks filled with quotes about forgiveness.
By Azlan shahabout a year ago in Fiction
The hotel laundry has been running itself after midnight
I work laundry for a mid-range chain hotel — the kind with fake marble floors, “continental breakfast,” and carpets that smell faintly like wet dog no matter how often they’re shampooed. My shift’s usually 4 p.m. to 1 a.m., but I’m often the last one here. Nobody wants to be the person closing down the laundry room at night.
By V-Ink Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
[FINAL UPDATE] I was the only one working the night shift… so who checked in Room 409?
Okay, I don’t even know why I’m posting this. I just need someone to see it in case I… I don’t know. If you read my last two posts, you know what’s been going on.
By V-Ink Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Mirror Draft. AI-Generated.
Ethan Ward was a literature professor at Hillcrest University — a quiet man who loved solitude more than social events. His students called him “The Ghost Teacher” because of how silently he moved through the halls. He wasn’t rude — just lost in thought, like someone living between two worlds.
By Ghanni malikabout a year ago in Fiction
Beyond the Door
I never believed in the old stories about the house at the end of Maple Street. Everyone said it was haunted, that strange lights flickered through the windows and whispers floated down the street at night. I thought they were just stories grown from boredom and imagination. I was wrong.
By Alpha Manabout a year ago in Fiction