Mystery

The Silent Echoes
The small town of Eldridge had always been quiet, nestled at the foot of mist-covered hills. People there lived simple, peaceful lives—until the day the voice returned.
By Ishaq Ahmadzai 2 years ago in Fiction
Specter.exe: Malfunction at Grimsby Manor
Chapter One: Welcome to Grimsby When wealthy tech mogul Dr. Victoria Grimsby died under extremely suspicious circumstances (i.e., launched 12 feet into the air during a VR meditation session), her sprawling estate was left to her one-of-a-kind invention: a robot butler named C.L.A.N.K. (Cognitive Lifeform for Assistance, Navigation, and Killing—ignore that last bit, it was a typo in the patent).
By E. hasan2 years ago in Fiction
The Sacred Mountain
The Sacred Mountain A long time ago, I heard of an extremely inhospitable mountain around Pesqueira. It is part of the mountain range of Ororubá (indigenous name) where the indigenous Xukuru people dwell. They say that it became sacred after the death of a mysterious medicine man from one of the Xukuru tribes. It can make any wish a reality, as long as the intention is pure and sincere. This is the starting point of my journey, whose objective is to make the impossible possible. Do you believe, readers? Then remain with me, paying special attention to the narrative.
By Aldivan Teixeira Torres2 years ago in Fiction
The cluckening. Content Warning.
No one ever expected the apocalypse to start at McFeather Farms. Certainly not Farmer Bill, whose biggest worry up to now had been whether his prized zucchini would win the blue ribbon at the county fair. But something was off this season. The sky had been an unsettling shade of green for three days, the cows were mooing in Latin, and the scarecrow kept turning its head slightly every time Bill walked past. And then there was the chicken coop. Bill had raised chickens for 32 years, and never had he seen one give him side-eye like that. Especially not Cluckles—the biggest, puffiest, sassiest hen in the flock. He had originally named her “Fluffy,” but after she pecked a fox to death and cackled at the funeral, the name just didn’t seem appropriate anymore. Lately, Cluckles had become… organized. The other chickens followed her in formation. They clucked in unison. Last Tuesday, Bill found what looked suspiciously like a ritual circle in the straw, complete with tiny bones and a single black feather stuck into a hard-boiled egg. “I must be losin’ it,” Bill mumbled as he tossed a scoop of feed into the coop, watching the chickens scatter like cult members late for a sacrifice. Then one night, he woke to a rhythmic tapping. Not from the window, no. From inside the walls. Tap. Tap. Cluck. Bill grabbed his flashlight and crept down the stairs, muttering, “Just raccoons. Probably raccoons. Maybe very… organized raccoons.” The kitchen door creaked open by itself. There, illuminated in a beam of light, was Cluckles. Standing upright. Wearing a tiny cape made of stitched-together corn husks. Her eyes glowed red. “Cluck,” she said. Bill screamed like a man who knew deep in his soul: the chicken had declared war. He fainted. When he woke up the next day, he thought all of this must have been a nightmare. Two days passed with no unusual activity except for cluckles being a menace pecking the cows again.
By E. hasan2 years ago in Fiction
I Accidentally Married My Boss in Vegas (And He Doesn’t Want an Annulment)
Chapter 1: The Tequila Incident The last thing I remembered before waking up in a penthouse suite was: Doing karaoke with my boss to I Will Always Love You (badly)
By Wiki Rjm2 years ago in Fiction
The Elevator That Skipped the 7th Floor
A New Job in a Tall Building When Farhan landed his new job at the prestigious Echelon Towers, he couldn’t believe his luck. The company was top-notch, the pay was solid, and the office was on the 14th floor of a sleek high-rise downtown. It was the kind of job you tell your relatives about with pride. On his first day, he wore his best shirt, arrived ten minutes early, and stepped into the building’s shiny chrome elevator. He pressed 14, watching the soft blue light blink. But something strange caught his eye. The elevator panel read: G, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9… Farhan frowned. Where’s 7? --- A Missing Floor At lunch, curiosity got the better of him. He asked his new coworker, Sana, about the missing floor. “Oh,” she said with a shrug, “there’s no 7th floor here.” “That’s what I saw,” he replied. “But why?” “Old superstition, maybe?” she guessed. “Like how some buildings skip the 13th floor. Who knows? I just take the stairs most days.” Still, something didn’t sit right with Farhan. The building was modern, logical, precise. Skipping a floor felt like a glitch in a place built for perfection. --- An Accidental Stop Two weeks into the job, Farhan worked late. The office was empty, the halls quiet. He packed his bag, yawned, and called the elevator. As the doors slid open, he stepped in and pressed G for ground. But instead of going down, the elevator jerked. It stopped. The panel read: 7. His breath caught. There was no button for 7. Yet here he was. The doors opened slowly. A dim corridor stretched before him. Dust floated in the stale air. The lights were low, flickering. Farhan should’ve stayed inside. Should’ve pressed Close. But curiosity wins over caution more often than it should. --- The Forgotten Floor The hallway looked abandoned. Old wooden doors lined both sides. There were no signs, no office numbers, no nameplates. He took cautious steps. A soft humming echoed down the corridor, like electricity buzzing through faulty wires. Then he heard it: Click. A door creaked open on its own. Inside was a room frozen in time. Old filing cabinets, rotary phones, typewriters. Paper scattered across desks like people had left in a hurry — and never returned. He picked up a paper dated May 1974. Farhan felt a chill run down his spine. This was impossible. The building was constructed in 1998. --- Whispers in the Dark He turned to leave but found the corridor darker now. The flickering lights had gone out behind him. And then… footsteps. Not his. Steady, slow, deliberate. Farhan backed away, heart pounding. A whisper crawled through the silence: “You’re not supposed to be here…” He spun around. No one there. He ran back to the elevator. Pressed the button. Pressed it again. Nothing. The hallway seemed longer now, warped, like the building was breathing — stretching. He banged on the doors, panic rising in his chest. Then the panel blinked. G. The elevator door opened. Bright lights. Normal panel. Normal floor numbers — minus 7. He rushed in and didn’t look back. --- A Closed Mouth Gathers No Dust The next morning, Farhan told no one. Not his boss. Not Sana. But he did his research. He found no blueprints for a 7th floor. No old articles. Nothing. Like it never existed. He even asked building security. “Sir,” the guard said firmly, “Echelon Towers has no 7th floor. It never did.” “But I was—” The guard gave him a look that said, Drop it. Farhan nodded and walked away. --- One Last Glance A month later, Farhan quit the job. He told people it was too stressful. Not the right fit. But the truth was, every night he worked late, the elevator would pause. Just for a second. Right between floors 6 and 8. Once, when he glanced at the panel, he saw a flash — just a glitch — but he swore it read: "Welcome back." He never took that elevator again. --- Still There The Echelon Towers still stands. People go to work. Ride the elevators. Live their normal lives. But every once in a while, late at night, someone hits the button for floor 8… …and the elevator stops on a floor that doesn’t exist.
By GadgetGround2 years ago in Fiction
📖 The 12-Year-Old Diary and an Unsent Letter
It was a rainy afternoon when Aaliya ducked into an old secondhand bookstore in the quiet lanes of Daryaganj. The rain had started without warning, and she wasn’t carrying an umbrella. The bookstore, tucked between a steaming tea stall and a faded tailor shop, looked like the perfect place to wait it out.
By Silent Tears2 years ago in Fiction
The Quiet Kind. Content Warning.
It started with a scream—short, sharp, and swallowed by the dense fog rolling in over the Appalachian pines. Detective Evan Rourke had heard a lot in his twenty years with the Bureau, but this one... this one felt ancient. It wasn’t just fear in that scream. It was recognition.
By E. hasan2 years ago in Fiction
Shadow's Of The Heart- 2
The village was quiet and covered in fog this morning. Elina, who was once Aria, walked the path to the old bridge with nothing but fleeting dreams in her head. She had dreams of neon rain, gunfire, and a man whose face she couldn't keep. She had lost all memory since the explosion. She believed that. But the dreams got stronger each night. Additionally, the man always observed from the shadows. Her gentle nature was adored by the locals. Despite this, she looked sad, as if she were waiting for something or someone. She had no idea that Zayan had always been nearby, but she did Hidden Watching. He was still unable to approach her. They would return if the agency knew she was still alive. And she might not be able to forgive him if she remembered who she really was. because she had no idea what Zayan had done. He had decided to forget about her. He hacked the facility that night, not destroyed it. discovered a neurological program that the organization used to rewire assets. He had used it on her to free her from blood, lies, and the mission they had forced her into. He had done this to start over. He brought her peace. And it shattered him. Elina felt that someone was behind her one day as she was gathering herbs in the woods. She abruptly turned. He remained there. Zayan: He was unrecognizable to her. However, her heart rate did. She said, drawn, scared, and confused, "You..." "Have we met yet?" He gave a soft smile. "Maybe... in a different life." They talked for a long time about everything and nothing. He used a fictitious name and claimed to be a traveler. However, each exchange was like a spark rekindling a long-lost passion. He kept coming back throughout the days. Her memories also changed. Part by part. She remained trembling at the lake's edge until one evening. When he appeared, she whispered, "I know who you are." "Now I remember everything." Zayan stopped breathing. "I remember you as well as the agency and the betrayal. You wiped me out. She moved in closer. "But I also recall why I fell in love with you." Her eyes welled up with tears. "Yes, you took away my past. However, freedom is something you gave me that no one else did. a decision." Zayan reduced his gaze. "I didn't want you to go." She said in a soft voice, "And you didn't." "You only assisted me in discovering who I really am—without the mission or the lies." The mist rolled around them like a soft curtain as they stood in silence. The twist came next. She added, "I didn't tell you everything either." "I was already questioning them before they sent me to you." I wanted to leave. Zayan gave a sharp upward gaze. I intended to fake the mission and then vanish. However, when I met you, everything became real. Too true. They were separated by a breeze. Nothing was hidden this time. No purpose, No slander. Only two souls who persevered through the worst and found their way back. They walked slowly, hand in hand, back into the village together. However, a pair of binoculars watched from the forest's edge. Over a secret communication device, a voice cracked: "Reacquired target. Both are present.
By Riazul Islam2 years ago in Fiction
Unveiling Secrets and Lost Love: Why You Should Read The Last Letter Mystery
Have you ever dreamt of publishing your own book but didn’t know where to start? Neither did I — until I finally hit “Publish” on Amazon KDP. That moment changed everything.
By Mohammad Helal2 years ago in Fiction
Empathy Patch . Winner in The Unhappy Ending Challenge.
Ryn scrolled Algora over breakfast, only mildly interested in the day's issues. “The Capital proposes new funding for affordable homes South of Vell. Owner and CEO hopes this will reduce financial hardship on low-stability families.”
By Steph Marie2 years ago in Fiction
Shadow's Of The Heart
Velora, a city shrouded in silence but illuminated by neon, experienced heavy rain. Zayan, a former elite agent, now runs a bookstore in peace, far removed from the life of murder and betrayal he left behind. A beautiful, wet, breathless woman walked into his store one evening. Aria was her name. She said, "I need your assistance." "They're looking for me." Zayan was against getting involved. However, he was drawn in by something in her eyes—pain, fire, or desperateness. He provided her with shelter. They moved in the shadows in the days that followed, changing places, avoiding cameras, and surviving. Their bond grew over time. They shared warmth in silence as they conversed under flickering streetlights, and in those fleeting moments, genuine love crept in. However, Aria had something to hide. Zayan could feel it. Her skepticism and trepidation in response to certain inquiries. He did not press. Perhaps because he did not desire the truth. Or perhaps he was simply sick of running from what he wanted. The night of betrayal followed. Their hideout was stormed by an elite strike team. Zayan fought ferociously and wound up in the soldier he had previously buried. Aria disappeared amid the disorder. He found her hours later behind reinforced glass in a classified government facility. She said in a low voice, "I didn't lie about anything." They entrusted me with bringing you out of hiding. However, I did not anticipate caring. Zayan remained stationary. The organization thought he had information that could break apart a powerful web, buried deep from a previous mission. The skilled and brilliant Aria was ordered to get close. to ensure his safety. Loved. She whispered, "I was supposed to betray you." "But I wasn't expecting... this," The lights stop working. Screams reverberated. The explosions continued. She had always been a mystery to Zayan. He infected the system with a virus. a safety net. He vanished into the night once more amid the facility's chaos. Weeks went by. They claimed that the explosion killed Aria. But there was no body found. A woman arrived in a remote northern village months later, wounded and with shattered memories. Elina was given to her by the locals. She had no recollection. But she dreamed of rain, books, and a man she couldn't name every night. She saw him one morning as she was walking through the market: a man in a weathered coat standing far away. They locked eyes. Her pulse sped up. He vanished before she could react, though. merely a shadow. Or perhaps, love decides to guard from afar.
By Riazul Islam2 years ago in Fiction