Mystery
Footprints in the Wrong Direction
A Trail That Shouldn’t Exist In the cold, mountain village of Ravenshade, 15-year-old Noah Elwin had always followed the rules. He never wandered into the forest, never stayed out after dark, and never questioned why the old northern path was forbidden.
By Muhammad Hayat2 years ago in Fiction
The Thing Behind the Window
It started on a rainy Tuesday night. I was up late studying for my history test, trying not to fall asleep at my desk. Everyone else in the house had gone to bed. The only sound was the soft ticking of the wall clock and the occasional rumble of thunder outside.
By NoExitStories 2 years ago in Fiction
The Mystery of the Mary Celeste: A Ghost Ship Lost in Time.
Introduction In the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, where countless ships have vanished without a trace, one name still echoes through maritime folklore: the Mary Celeste. This 19th-century brigantine was discovered drifting eerily in 1872 with no soul aboard—its crew mysteriously vanished without any sign of struggle or distress. What makes this case particularly chilling is that the ship was in perfect sailing condition, fully stocked, and its cargo untouched. More than a century later, the Mary Celeste continues to haunt historians, sailors, and mystery enthusiasts alike.
By ُُُEng Fares Sameh2 years ago in Fiction
Phantom Sky: The Ghost in the F-16
Chapter One: The Silent Bird Captain Aidan Voss had logged over 2,000 flight hours in the F-16 Fighting Falcon. He was sharp, calculated, and trusted — the kind of pilot who didn’t flinch under pressure. But even he couldn’t explain what happened on November 3rd, over the Himalayas.
By Muhammad Sohail2 years ago in Fiction
Iron Man: The Legacy of Tony Stark
There was a time when Tony Stark believed he was invincible. Born into wealth, forged by genius, and crowned by charisma, Anthony Edward Stark had it all. The Stark name was a legacy built on innovation and iron — a kingdom of weapons and wealth that spanned the globe. By the time he turned 21, he had taken the reins of Stark Industries and transformed it into the world’s most powerful defense company. People called him a genius. The tabloids called him a playboy. But Tony? He didn’t care what anyone called him, as long as the champagne stayed cold and the money kept flowing.
By Muhammad Sohail2 years ago in Fiction
Major Mohammad Zaki: Valor Beyond Borders
The winter of 1941 blanketed the hills of Rawalpindi in silence. The barracks were quiet, but within them stood a man whose mind was far from calm — Major Mohammad Zaki, a proud officer of the British Indian Army, a decorated soldier, and a man at war with his own conscience.
By Muhammad Sohail2 years ago in Fiction
The Day My Refrigerator Tried to Kill Me
Let me start by saying I did not expect to be attacked by my own fridge on a Tuesday. Tuesdays are supposed to be boring. Middle-of-the-road, halfway-to-the-weekend, emotionally beige. But that was before I downloaded a “smart kitchen” app called FridgeFriend+.
By Ashikur Rahman Bipul2 years ago in Fiction
Echoes in the Mirror
Aryan always got this creepy feeling whenever he looked in a mirror, not because he was superstitious or anything. It was more like his reflection was staring back just a little too long, you know? He wasn’t into ghosts or spirits or any of that stuff. But seriously, every time he caught his own reflection, something felt off. It was like the mirror knew something about him that he didn’t even get. Growing up in a small town, life was pretty normal for Aryan. But when he moved to Mumbai for his freelance video editing gig, things just felt… different. The crazy busy streets, the packed markets, the bright lights – it was all just too much. The apartment he rented wasn’t much to look at, but it was his own space. Cheap, old, but it worked. The landlord was a weird dude – super quiet, pale, and he never said anything about the apartment’s history. All he’d say was, "Someone left suddenly." Aryan didn’t push it. The apartment was in a perfect spot for his work, and that’s all that mattered to him. But that mirror – man, that damn mirror was a problem from the second he walked in. It was huge, like floor-to-ceiling, taking up most of one wall in the bedroom. And it wasn’t just any mirror – it was way too clear. It almost felt like it was alive, like it was a window to some world Aryan didn’t belong in. The first night, Aryan threw a sheet over it. He hated how it just stared back at him, reflecting not just his face, but this strange emptiness that made him feel uneasy. He crashed with the sheet still there, thinking he’d forget all about it. But every morning, the sheet was gone, just lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. He told himself it was the draft – just an old building thing. But the more it happened, the more it freaked him out. Days went by. Little things started to change. He first noticed it one morning while brushing his teeth in front of the mirror. His reflection copied him, like it should. Right hand up to brush. Reflection did the same. But then, this weird thing happened.
By THOUGHT LIKE A PRO2 years ago in Fiction
City of Sapphire Light
Though the train was quite empty, the street outside was bustling. It is almost like seeing my entire town times—I don’t know—a lot, walking the street all at once. But that paled in comparison to the towering buildings that almost get lost in the clouds. Some parts of the city even appear to be on floating islands! Floating islands! It mesmerized me. The streets were alight, not just with the sun, but with glowing blue lines traveling along the building walls and the street edge. “Are those sapphire lines?” I almost yell in excitement as I walk up to closest building. Stretching my arm out I place a finger on one of the blue lines. It sent a gentle buzz of energy through me—they were sapphire lines! Following the line with my eyes, I see it stopping at every light on the walls and street. “It is magic powered!” I exclaim. Realizing how loud my words were, I pull my body into my core shrinking as I dart my eyes around the crowded street. But not many people seem to have noticed—a few turned their eyes, but most just kept on their way. Looking back over at my finger only a fraction of a fraction of any inch away from the sapphire line itself. I can feel the wave and flow of it’s energy. If I just quiet myself I should be able to. . . ‘No Ravly, you came here to attend the academy. You will learn how to do this there.’ I remind myself bringing my back to the task at hand, Locating the Dalten City School of High Magic.
By M. W. Larsen2 years ago in Fiction
The Last Broadcast. AI-Generated.
In the year 2065, the world had become a digital wasteland. The once-vibrant cities were now silent, their streets empty, their buildings crumbling. The internet, the lifeblood of human connection, had collapsed under the weight of its own complexity. The global network had fragmented into isolated islands of information, each one a relic of a bygone era.
By Navnoor Kaur2 years ago in Fiction
