Mystery

The Scribe of the Last Days
The world was in decline. A strange, heavy stillness hung in the air. The city's marketplaces, once vibrant with chatter, were now steeped in an eerie silence. Faces, once expressive, now mirrored only despair and exhaustion. The dazzling glow of technology had pushed humans apart, each lost in their own digital world, hidden behind a screen. It felt as if something monumental was about to end, but no one knew what, or when.
By Mian Nazir Shahabout a year ago in Fiction
Cobra Assassin. Content Warning.
She had loved him. Genuinely, and so vigorously. The deepest and most authentic connection she had ever experienced. In her line of work, reading people was paramount and she was good at it. Really good at it, or at least she thought. That was right until he showed up on her “To Kill,” list.
By The Protagonist Priestessabout a year ago in Fiction
The Bookstore Where Our Eyes First Spoke
The old bookstore on Elm Street was supposed to be torn down by spring. It smelled like dusty paper and warm cinnamon, with creaky wooden floors that whispered with every step. Leah had wandered in on a rainy Tuesday, hoping to kill time. She wasn’t expecting to find the last piece of her heart between the pages of a book—or in someone else’s eyes.
By The Waiting Treeabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Call Booth
The phone booth hadn't worked in years. It stood like a forgotten relic on the edge of town, half-buried in ivy and rust, just before the road turned to gravel and disappeared into the woods. The glass was cracked, the cord half-severed, and the dial pad missing several numbers. Most people passed it without noticing.
By Get Richabout a year ago in Fiction
Signed, The Future Me
The letter arrived on a Tuesday. There was no stamp, no return address. Just a single sheet of aged, yellowed paper folded precisely into thirds, tucked inside a plain envelope. On the front, written in ink that shimmered faintly like oil on water, were the words:
By Get Richabout a year ago in Fiction
The House That Wasn’t There Yesterday
No one saw it being built. That was the first strange thing. It just appeared—like a skipped frame in a film reel—between the Miller’s white ranch and the empty lot where neighborhood kids used to set off fireworks and dig for worms. One morning, there it was: a charcoal-gray Victorian house with dark windows and a gate that groaned even when the wind was still.
By Get Richabout a year ago in Fiction
Mysspelled
Year 3990 Brockway District, Mars The bookstore resembled that of a classic, small town, library. In the middle of it were rows of seats filled with nervous and eager readers readying their questions for the speaker as their hands gripped a hardcover copy waiting to be signed by its author. The surrounding room was filled with that smell you only get from aged paper.
By David S. JohnsonWilliamsabout a year ago in Fiction
The Whispering Loom
A Tapestry of Forgotten Songs In the village of Threadhaven, where the hills bloomed with heather and the air hummed with secrets, there stood an ancient loom. It was no ordinary machine—its wood was carved with sigils that glowed faintly at dusk, and its threads seemed to shimmer with colors no dye could match. The villagers called it the Starloom, and they believed it wove the fates of those who dared to touch it. But no one had, not in living memory. It sat in the old mill, guarded by dust and whispers.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
TIME TRAVELLER
Time Traveler 2115.The world is no longer the same. The purity of the atmosphere is almost gone, water sources are drying up, and the habitable space for humans is limited to a few megacities. During this time, a young scientist was born—Dr. Ryan Mitra. He was only twenty-three years old at the time, but his progress in genetic engineering, quantum mechanics, and astrophysics surprised the entire scientific community. Dr. Ryan always believed, “The solution to the problem lies in the future, you just need to know how to bend time and reach the right time.” This idea began his secret research—time transportation. After three years of relentless work, late one night, Ryan created a small, shiny machine in his secret lab. He named it—"Chrono-Sphere". It was a kind of quantum-time bubble, which could transfer his body through time, a kind of live teleportation, but through the time-stream.
By sagorbariabout a year ago in Fiction
Where the River Forgets
The river was silent at times. It sighed and whispered at different times. However, today it remained silent, concealing secrets beneath its smooth surface.
By Ahmed Rayhanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Signal from Orion
It came at 03:14 a.m. GMT on February 4th, 2049. A pulse—structured, rhythmic, too complex to be natural. It originated near the Orion Belt, 1,300 light-years away. And it was encoded with something humanity had never encountered before: language.
By Ashley Anthonyabout a year ago in Fiction
The Final Night
Start his call became Iman. A clean college graduate, he longed for peace far away from the noise of the city. So he went to Madhupur village, to his ancestral home. The village became quiet, surrounded by the aid of using forests. The human beings had been kind, the character soothing—but there has been one location all and sundry avoided: the vintage zamindar mansion.
By Ahmed Mamunabout a year ago in Fiction