Mystery

The Mirror Hotel
The Mirror Hotel was born from Aurelian’s need—not desire. It waited like a predator for the moment he fractured, when something inside him shifted just enough to let light pierce the dark. It lived in the liminal spaces of his grief, where reality blurred with dream—a place both familiar and unsettling, shaped by the memories he couldn’t bear to hold.
By Neshzivne Dadirriabout a year ago in Fiction
The Letter Beneath the Bridge
The city lights shimmered on the surface of the river, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of rain that had just stopped. Milica stood beneath the old bridge, holding in her hand an envelope she had read for the tenth time. It said:
By Bilja C.about a year ago in Fiction
What if humans couldn't lie
What if humans couldn't lie? I was struggling to open my eyes when the alarm went off— or at least, I think it went off. It was 5.30 am, my eyes glued shut filled with eye gunk, swollen, and heavy with sleepiness. My body almost paralysed and sunken into the mattress with heavy legs and stiff joints from running the night before.
By Abdullah Talaatabout a year ago in Fiction
Depart the light On
Rain drizzled softly out of doors, tapping against the antique house’s windows. The faint patter broke the heavy silence that crammed the air. Aisha sat at the sofa, clutching an vintage, leather-sure diary. A single dim bulb lit the living room, casting long, uneasy shadows on the partitions. She have been feeling unusually unsettled all day. It were six months on the grounds that her grandmother’s passing, yet her final words nevertheless echoed in Aisha’s mind: "Aisha, don’t flip the mild off… not until everything becomes clean." On the time, Aisha had brushed off it as considered one of her grandmother’s unusual habits. However tonight, some thing in her intestine informed her those words have been not simply superstition. She turned into on my own inside the house—her parents were out of metropolis, and her brother had stayed over with pals. 8:00 PM She made herself some tea in the kitchen, however halfway via pouring the new water, she felt it—that prickling sensation at the again of her neck, as though a person become status proper at the back of her. She turned fast. No one. “simply my creativeness,” she muttered. Again within the dwelling room, she opened the diary. Her grandmother had usually saved it locked away. The first page bore a single line: "in case you’re analyzing this, remember—some truths are most effective seen in the light." 9:00 PM The diary didn’t contain everyday testimonies. Rather, it become packed with ordinary notes, commands, and warnings. One access caught her attention: "Do no longer contact the free wood below the antique wall shelf within the courtyard… not till the night has exceeded." Her coronary heart skipped a beat. She knew the exact shelf—her grandmother used to take a seat beneath it each nighttime. 10:00 PM The rain intensified. The bulb within the dwelling room flickered. Shadows within the corners appeared to shift on their personal. Then, a smooth knock got here from the the front door. Her pulse raced. Peeking out of doors, she found not anything. Whilst she returned, the diary lay open to a brand new page she became positive she hadn’t grew to become. The words study: "Do now not turn off the mild… they come in the darkish." Eleven:00 PM Worry and curiosity driven her to the courtyard. She held a flashlight in one hand. Kneeling via the antique shelf, she saw the free piece of timber described inside the diary. Pulling it aside discovered a small wooden box, sealed shut with wax bearing her grandmother’s private crest. 12:00 AM Within the box were faded photos, an antique key, and a letter. The letter examine: "This key opens the basement. What you find there has protected our family for generations. But remember—hold the mild on, or all might be misplaced." 1:00 AM The basement door creaked open, releasing a wave of cold, damp air. The beam of her flashlight stuck abnormal symbols at the walls and… an old mirror. But the reflection turned into incorrect—her photograph became faint, distorted, and smiling, even though her face changed into frozen in fear. 2:00 AM The reflection spoke: "i'm now not your shadow… i am the debt your circle of relatives owes. Hold the light burning, or I could be loose." Aisha stumbled backward, however the mild commenced to flicker. In her panic, the flashlight slipped from her arms. For a cut up 2nd, darkness swallowed the room. In that second, the reflection set free a bone-chilling scream. 3:00 AM She snatched up the flashlight, but the reflect become now empty. At the wall, new words had regarded in jagged letters: "This is not over… i will return next night." Aisha slammed the basement door close and locked it with trembling palms. Lower back inside the living room, she made positive the bulb stayed sparkling—irrespective of how dim. As the first name to prayer echoed from the mosque in the distance, Aisha sat wide awake, coronary heart nonetheless pounding. She sooner or later understood what her grandmother had meant— The light have to in no way exit… because the darkish swallows the whole lot
By Janalamabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Field
In a quiet village cradled between gentle hills and a winding river, there lived an old farmer named Karim. His back was bent from years of tending the earth, his hands rough and cracked like the dry soil after summer. But his eyes—deep and calm—still held a quiet fire.
By meerjananabout a year ago in Fiction
Something Very Fishy
Doris would tell her friends whenever they asked how she was doing, “I have four loves in my life: Harold, may he rest in peace; Kathy, my beautiful daughter; this solarium; and my saltwater aquarium. I miss Harold, but I still have the other three, so I’m doing just fine." She was content with where life had placed her, and at seventy-six, contentment was really all she could ask for.
By Mark Gagnonabout a year ago in Fiction
What If Your Reflection Could Talk Back?
The First Time It Spoke It happened on an ordinary Tuesday morning. I was standing in front of my bathroom mirror, toothbrush in hand, eyes still heavy with sleep. And then, my reflection blinked — before I did.
By Habib kingabout a year ago in Fiction
Lost in Time: The Train That Stops Nowhere
The Day I Boarded the Train It happened on a foggy Tuesday evening. I remember the way the mist curled around the platform, swallowing the edges of the station until it felt like I was standing inside a dream.
By Habib kingabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Room on Ashford Street
It was raining the night Daniel Crane returned to Ashford Street. The lane had always been narrow, but in the years since he’d last walked it, it seemed to have folded in on itself. Lamplight spilled across cracked cobblestones, illuminating patches of moss that glistened under the drizzle. The smell of wet stone and river water drifted up from the quay, just a few blocks away.
By Jack Nodabout a year ago in Fiction
The Outer Perimeter Society
I wasn’t planning on writing much of anything this week, maybe not even this month but I got wildly intrigued about the idea of completing another challenge and have always wanted to try one of these for myself—so be kind—as this is my first and I am not sure I did this exactly right. Today’s story is more of an inspiration from something a bit spooky and a lot less magic. I was feeling something in the vein of macabre for summer so I decided upon the “All Night Long” challenge—the guise of which intrigues me. A story that spans the whole night, without using the words night, light, dark, day. It’s a mystery, what will happen next, but I am excited to see where this story takes me, and you, the reader. I started with the title— "The Outer Perimeter Society” joyless, nefarious sorts of folk who inhabit the dusky, gloomy, shade ridden edge of our world. The ones who hunt in our obscure radiance and wait on baited breath for those of us who can’t help ourselves, and let curiosity win, even if for just a little bit, but what are they hiding, what are their secrets? Some of this is likely also inspired by my most recent movie outing to see: Weapons—which was a small treat. I love the doors it unlocked in the mind but wish it would have been slightly more realistic in regards to the missing persons, that would have been exquisite (imho). But for now, let’s see what happens with this story—hope you enjoy!!!
By K.H. Obergfollabout a year ago in Fiction
The Letter I Never Sent
I found the letter last night, buried beneath a pile of old photographs in the wooden chest at the foot of my bed. The envelope was yellowed with age, the paper inside soft as fabric. My handwriting—shaky, almost unfamiliar—spelled out his name in faded blue ink: Elias. Just the sight of those letters made my chest tighten. I hadn’t seen him in thirteen years, and yet the moment I touched that envelope, the air felt heavy with the past.
By Musawir Shahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Photo I Found in My Attic Wasn’t Supposed to Exist
I was cleaning out the attic last weekend, something I’d been putting off for years. The summer heat made the air up there heavy and still, and the dust clung to my skin as I pushed aside old boxes. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular—just trying to make space.
By ETS_Storyabout a year ago in Fiction