Mystery

People Started Receiving a Score Above Their Heads
The Numbers Appear Nobody knew exactly when it began. One ordinary Monday morning, people around the world woke up and discovered glowing numbers floating above their heads. The numbers hovered several inches above each person, visible to everyone but impossible to touch. They appeared in every country simultaneously, regardless of age, wealth, or social status. Some people had scores in the hundreds. Others had scores in the thousands. News channels interrupted regular broadcasts within minutes as confusion spread across the globe. Scientists searched for explanations while social media exploded with photographs and videos. Yet no one could explain what the numbers meant.
By Robert Redford5 months ago in Fiction
She Found a Prince in the Forest… But He Was Hiding a Secret
The villagers often said the forest beyond Raven Hollow was cursed. No one dared enter after sunset. Strange whispers echoed through the trees, shadows moved without owners, and travelers who wandered too far often returned changed—or never returned at all. But Elara Whitmore had never believed in curses. At twenty years old, with wild chestnut hair and dreams too large for her tiny village, she spent most of her days wandering where others feared to go. The forest had always felt alive to her, as if the wind carried stories only she could hear. That was how she found him. Or perhaps— That was how fate led her to him. It happened on a stormy evening. The sky darkened too quickly, swallowing the golden sunset whole. Elara had been collecting wild herbs near the edge of the forbidden woods when thunder cracked overhead. She should have gone home. Instead, curiosity pulled her deeper. That was when she heard it. A horse crying in pain. She followed the sound through thick vines until she reached a clearing glowing strangely beneath silver rain. A black horse stood trembling near an old oak tree. And beside it— A man. No. Not just a man. He looked like something pulled straight from a forgotten fairytale. Tall and impossibly handsome, dressed in dark clothes soaked by rain, with raven-black hair falling over sharp green eyes. Blood stained his sleeve. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said coldly. His voice startled her. Deep. Guarded. Beautiful. Elara crossed her arms. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing.” The stranger stared at her as though he couldn’t decide if she was brave or foolish. “Go home,” he said. “Now.” “You’re injured.” “I’ll survive.” “You might,” she replied, kneeling beside him anyway. “But that wound won’t.” For a moment, he looked almost annoyed. Then something unexpected happened. He smiled. It was brief. Dangerously beautiful. And somehow sad. “You never listen, do you?” he asked quietly. “Not when someone needs help.” Reluctantly, he allowed her to bandage his arm. She noticed strange things. His skin was freezing cold. Too cold. And when lightning flashed, she could have sworn his shadow moved differently from him. “You live in Raven Hollow?” he asked. “Yes.” “You shouldn’t return here.” “That sounds oddly threatening.” “It’s a warning.” Before she could ask what he meant, thunder shook the earth. The stranger suddenly stood. His expression changed. Fear flashed across his face. “You need to leave,” he said sharply. “Why?” His eyes darted toward the trees. Because something was moving between them. Something enormous. Branches snapped. A growl echoed through the darkness. Elara froze. “What is that?” she whispered. The stranger stepped in front of her. “Run.” The creature emerged slowly. Massive. Eyes glowing gold. Its body twisted like smoke and shadow. Elara stumbled backward in terror. But before the beast reached them— The stranger changed. The air shattered around him. Black smoke curled upward. And suddenly— He wasn’t human anymore. Silver markings spread across his skin. His eyes glowed unnaturally bright. Power rippled through the clearing like wildfire. The creature bowed its head instantly. As if obeying him. Elara’s heart stopped. The stranger turned toward her. No— The prince. Because suddenly she understood. Only royalty carried magic like that. “You…” she whispered shakily. He looked devastated. “I told you not to come here.” “Who are you?” His silence felt heavy. Finally, he answered. “My name is **Prince Kael of Eldoria**.” Elara gasped. Everyone knew the stories. Prince Kael. The missing prince. The one who disappeared ten years ago after his kingdom fell into darkness. People believed he was dead. Yet here he stood. Alive. And hiding in a cursed forest. “But…” Her voice trembled. “Why are you here?” Kael looked away. “Because the world believes monsters deserve exile.” “You’re not a monster.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “You saw what I am.” “No,” she said softly. “I saw someone protecting me.” For the first time, something shifted in his expression. Hope. Tiny. Fragile. Dangerous. Over the following weeks, Elara returned to the forest. Again. And again. Against every warning. She learned Kael’s secrets slowly. He had been cursed by dark magic during the fall of his kingdom. At night, the curse grew stronger. If he lost control— He could destroy entire villages. So he hid himself away. Alone. Believing isolation was safer than risking innocent lives. But Elara refused to fear him. Instead, she laughed with him beneath moonlit trees. Shared stolen bread and terrible jokes. Taught him how ordinary happiness felt. And somewhere between quiet conversations and lingering glances— They fell in love. Completely. Hopelessly. Beautifully. Until the night she discovered the truth. Kael wasn’t merely cursed. He was dying. The darkness inside him was spreading. Soon, there would be nothing left of the prince she loved. Only the monster. “You lied to me,” she whispered, tears burning her eyes. “I wanted to protect you.” “You don’t get to decide that!” Kael stepped closer. Pain filled his expression. “When I lose control,” he said quietly, “I could hurt you.” “You won’t.” “You don’t know that.” “I know *you*.” For the first time in his life— Someone chose him despite the darkness. But love, Elara would soon learn, came with impossible choices. Because hidden deep inside the enchanted forest was an ancient secret: The curse could be broken. But only if someone willingly gave up the thing they loved most. And Elara already knew what she was willing to sacrifice. Even if it shattered her heart. Even if loving a prince meant losing him forever. Because some fairytales weren’t about finding love. Some were about fighting for it. No matter the cost.
By Diana Joseph 5 months ago in Fiction
A Better Way
"If you look far enough back," the boy said, selecting each word like a stone picked to wound, "you'll see that the distance you walk home from your office every evening amounts to nothing gained for me. You grow tired, perhaps, but for me, the very act of scrambling after people, begging, is what confirms I am still alive." ‎ ‎Mr. Hayes said nothing. He walked the same path every evening, from office to home, through this settlement, past the mountains of garbage beside which some patch of earth had been scraped clean and called a football ground. He spent considerable time here most days, watching clusters of boys play. ‎ ‎"You could find something better than this," Mr. Hayes said, without looking at him. "Better than begging. Sell something, anything. Without the grovelling." ‎ ‎"I could sell something?" Ethan asked, with a curiosity that surprised even himself. Mr. Hayes had never given him anything beyond a handful of coins. A piece of advice was something altogether new. "But what?" ‎ ‎A little further along, Mr. Hayes settled into his usual spot and fixed his gaze on the boys playing ahead. Ethan sat beside him. ‎ ‎"I've never seen you play," Mr. Hayes said. "Do you?" ‎ ‎"You know why they play?" Ethan replied, watching the field. "Because they believe, they genuinely believe, that one day they'll appear in a stadium full of people watching them. So for them, this is practice." ‎ ‎"And for you?" Mr. Hayes murmured. ‎ ‎"Nothing." ‎ ‎"What can you do?" ‎ ‎"Aside from what I'm already doing, hardly anything, I suppose." ‎ ‎Both remained silent for a while. Mr. Hayes handed Ethan whatever food remained from his day. The boy ate without hesitation. Across the ground, one of the playing boys glanced over, stared for a moment, then turned back to the game. ‎ ‎"You were saying that I could sell something?" Ethan asked, still eating. ‎ ‎"Yes, of course. You could be a salesman." ‎ ‎"A salesman??" The boy laughed. ‎ ‎"I think you'd do better at it than at anything else," Mr. Hayes said. ‎ ‎He lit a cigarette, took one slow drag, and passed it sideways to Ethan, which was, in truth, one of the principal reasons Ethan kept close to him at all. ‎ ‎"What am I supposed to sell?" he asked. ‎ ‎"Poison," said Mr. Hayes, with a quiet smile. ‎ ‎He reached into his bag and produced a small white packet, pressing it into Ethan's hand. "Anyone will take this from you. Easier than selling groceries." ‎ ‎He rose and walked away. ‎ ‎Ethan turned the white packet over and over in his fingers, examining it carefully. He trusted Mr. Hayes. And sheltered within the shadow of that trust, he allowed himself to think, perhaps this was it. Perhaps what he had been handed was a white packet of hope.
By Karan w. 5 months ago in Fiction
The Last Cup of Coffee
It was only a cup of coffee. That was what anyone else would have said if they had walked past the small yellow house that morning and looked through the kitchen window. They would have seen two women sitting at a table, steam rising from mismatched mugs, the curtains moving softly from the open window above the sink.
By Ronna Curtis5 months ago in Fiction
The Town That Waited for Me. AI-Generated.
The GPS on my phone didn’t show the town. That was the first clue I should have picked up. The second was the sign placed by the roadside.
By Mohammad Talha5 months ago in Fiction
A Little Walk to Escape . Top Story - June 2025.
It was the same morning, and he had a sunny sight from where he set off for a little walk, his dog trotting faithfully behind him. He had never felt the need to put a leash on the dog, yet wherever he went, the dog always followed. When the two set out, no one remained at home. The house was left just like that empty and open. He began walking toward a small river that passed right beside his house. For a while, he stood and watched the water flowing through the river. Then he asked the dog, “Where does this river begin?” The dog, not understanding his words, gazed at him with unblinking eyes. He resumed walking. After a short while, he picked up the dog and threw it into the river. The dog let out a soft yelp, but the man walked on without a change in expression. His breath was still easy, his heart continued to beat without disturbance. He was as alive as he had always been. A little later, he heard the dog’s whimpering and the sound of pawsteps. He turned once to look back. The dog was panting, drenched completely, and saliva dripped from its mouth. He looked at the dog and continued walking. After walking a bit more, he picked up the dog and threw it into the river again. Once more the dog let out a soft cry and was swept away by the current. The man walked on. Soon, the dog reappeared, following behind him. Once again, he picked it up and threw it into the river. The dog floated away with the current. Lowering his head, he resumed walking. After a little while, he heard the dog’s quiet sobs again. He turned, and the dog looked at him one last time. There was no desire or demand in its eyes, it was only silence that remained. And this time, the dog was walking back toward the house. But before reaching it, the dog turned onto a side path, one that didn’t lead home. Soon, the dog disappears from his sight. And once again, the man continued walking.
By Karan w. 5 months ago in Fiction
72 Virgins
Through the thick white smoke, you can hear loud automatic gunfire and explosions. Slowly, the smoke thins and armed child soldiers in military jackets with Arab headscarves come into view.
By Senad Dizdarević5 months ago in Fiction
The Library of Unread Lives
The library has no doors. This is the first thing they tell you, though by the time you understand what it means, you have already stopped looking for exits. The corridors shift when you aren't watching. The shelves breathe. The books do not gather dust because dust implies time, and time is the one thing this place does not traffic in.
By Muhammad Sabeel5 months ago in Fiction
She Was Warned...
The first man I turned to stone was my supervisor. I didn't mean to. It was the Tuesday after the holiday party, and Marcus had cornered me in the supply closet between the toner cartridges and the recycling bins. His breath smelled of the cheap bourbon the company provided, and his hands smelled of the hand sanitizer he used obsessively between meetings. Both smells would haunt me for years. Both smells would become, in my memory, the exact scent of entitlement.
By Muhammad Sabeel5 months ago in Fiction
The Thin Ones
It is dark and raining. The wind blows a rogue hanging wire against the metal lamp post making it sing like a muffled bell. I was out late, I don't know why, but I always find that sound so eerie, like something bad is going to happen.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 5 months ago in Fiction
The NEW Law That AI Determines Driver Eligibility
Past decades will be remembered as the moment driving stopped being a personal freedom and became a real-time privilege monitored by artificial intelligence.
By AnthonyBTV5 months ago in Fiction
I Woke Up Where My Nightmare Ended. AI-Generated.
I recognized the motel the moment I saw it. It stood in the end of a rainy road, partially hidden among skinny trees. The red neon sign above the motel office was blinking steadily.
By Mohammad Talha5 months ago in Fiction