Series
The Great Doctor: Chapter 13 I'm dying
In the car. Ye Qiu said, "Mom, I'm sorry, I made you feel wronged today." "You silly child, what are you talking about." Qian Jinglan said, "You encountered so many things in the hospital, but you kept it from me. If you hadn't gone to the hospital today, how long would you have kept it from me?"
By Huaxun Literatureabout a year ago in Fiction
The Unparalleled Divine Doctor: Chapter 12 In Jiangzhou, he is the God
Several security guards quickly surrounded Ye Qiu, rolled up their sleeves, and seemed ready to take action at any time. Bai Bing said anxiously: "Vice President Guo, Ye Qiu is from our surgery department, can you give me some face?"
By Huaxun Literatureabout a year ago in Fiction
Mould
There was never much in his lunch box, but he couldn't eat it anyway. It hurt his throat and made him feel sick. Belly gnawing and gurgling, he watched the other kids biting into their sandwiches, apples and granola bars. He wished he could do that. His lunchbox was made of metal, and painted yellow. It had Asterix and Obelix on it. He peeked inside. The ham sandwich looked thin and dry. It was starting to curl at the edges. His throat was already closing just looking at it. He gulped. It hurt. He shut the lid. Sipped his juice. Winced. She had crackers and grapes. Chunks of cheese, thick juicy slices of real ham. Fudgy squares of homemade chocolate cake, or peanut butter cookies that she shared with her friends. The boy tried not stare. Sometimes a grown-up version of her appeared at the school with a clipboard and a sugary smile. But not really real sugar. No. The horrible kind you get in little pills when you're a diabetic like Gran. Her long fingers sifted through his hair, looking for the little critters that bit and scuttled and itched. She'd pause, and he knew she was pursing her lips, brows drawing together, the same way she did when he stood on the scales. The same way she did when they were close together, and her nose wrinkled.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
Chapter 4:DEAD ZONE EAST
Rain fell like knives. The boy tightened his coat, dust-covered and torn at the shoulder. Behind him, Zair coughed—again, blood. Aya lit a soaked match, and in that flicker, the truth of the old hallway revealed itself. A spiral symbol. Carved deep into the wall. It wasn’t recent. It had always been there. “We found it,” Aya whispered. The Spiral Door. They’d heard stories. A hidden entrance beneath Dead Zone East. Some claimed it led to Sector X. Others said it was the Cradle of Lies. Zair used to joke it was where the world began and ended. Now they were standing in front of it. Rusty steel, blackened by old fire. Chains, thin and loose. Etched words that looked like they’d been written with a nail: Open me only when the sun bleeds. The boy stared. The air vibrated with a low, eerie hum. And then, somewhere far away, a voice came through—like radio static whispering through wind: You are watched. You are warned. The Spiral waits. They didn’t open it. Not yet. Instead, they turned back to prepare. But then they saw something in the dirt. Tracks. Fresh ones. And not boots. Bare feet. That night, the boy asked Aya to stay on watch. But when he woke up, she was gone. In her place, a drawing on the wall in white chalk. A strange symbol: three stacked lines. And below it, written in crooked letters: The crows fly low tonight. Zair was the first to react. His face turned pale. “That’s enemy code,” he said. The boy stiffened. “How do you know?” Zair lowered his voice. “Because I used to write it.” Everything cracked. Was Aya taken? Was she the traitor? Or had Zair been lying since the beginning? Trust snapped like wire. The boy didn’t sleep again that night. The next morning, they moved underground. Through shattered rail tunnels and broken maintenance lines. There they discovered: A tunnel lined with mirrors A room that repeated enemy propaganda on loop And a table holding an old device blinking with blue light Zair recognized it instantly. “This belonged to the old world,” he said. “And it’s sending out a signal.” At the end of the tunnel was no door, no ladder, no map. Just the scent of ash… And silence. To be continued
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Fiction
Eridani Prime Chronicles: Mercy's Shadow Syndicate. Content Warning.
PART : 1 "Shattered Sky" The sun was a blistering, pale orb, obscured by the vast and flickering Solar Shield--Hexodome or Hex, as it came to be called. High above, the illusion of clear blue skies and fluffy white clouds glitched sporadically, revealing the metal panels of the Hex. Below, Ironmarsh surrounded the Eridani Prime Intergalactic Space Station. The city was a mess of rusted buildings and neon lights shrouded in a polluted smog.
By Stephanie Wrightabout a year ago in Fiction
Chapter 3 :Dead Zone East
They moved fast now. Quieter. Deeper. Every sound was sharper. Even their own breath felt like it echoed too loud. The older boy led them through a collapsed train tunnel, once painted white, now burned black. Graffiti smeared every surface. Half of it looked fresh like someone had been tagging messages in the dark. “We shouldn’t be here,” Rook whispered. “This is Sector B. No one came out of here last winter.” The girl with the slingshot didn’t slow down. “That’s the point,” she said. “No one expects us to come this way.” The tunnel opened into a large underground space. Abandoned platforms, torn seats, and silence so heavy it pushed down on their lungs. And then they saw it the Black Wall. It stood at the end of the chamber, thirty feet high, covered in scorch marks. No doors. No handles. Just a single red handprint, fresh and dripping. The boy stepped forward slowly. He pressed his palm against the cold steel. A low click. Then silence again. Suddenly a flash of light. A camera. Someone was watching. The boy didn’t move. “We’re not ghosts,” he said aloud. “You know that. We’re still breathing. And we came for answers.” A speaker crackled from the ceiling. Static. Then a voice deep, mechanical, filtered. “Four entered. Four silent. Four marked. Step back or disappear like the rest.” The girl raised her slingshot. “Say that again,” she muttered, “I dare you.” The boy stepped in front of her. “We’re not turning back,” he said clearly. “You left us out there. You shut the gates. Now we walk through, or we tear this wall down ourselves.” There was a pause. Then the wall made another sound Clank. Whirr. Drag. A narrow doorway opened. Not enough for all. Just one. “One may enter,” said the voice. Rook stepped forward. The boy stopped him. “No. It’s me.” He turned to the others. “If I’m not out in ten minutes, go back to the checkpoint. Wait three hours. If I’m still not there burn the map.” He stepped inside. Darkness swallowed him. Then the door sealed shut with a metallic slam. Inside the Black Wall… The hallway was narrow. Lit only by flickering red lights above. The air smelled like oil and dust. And fear. He walked straight, hands ready. Footsteps light. Then voices. Low. Muffled. He reached the end of the corridor and pushed open a door. And found them. Five men sitting around a table. Each in black coats. Faces scarred. Eyes like broken glass. In the center of the table: a binder. On its cover his photo. His face. And three stamped words: “Target: Incomplete Termination.” “You finally came,” said one of the men. “Just like your brother.” The boy’s jaw locked. He hadn’t heard that name in two years. “You know where he is?” The man smiled. “No one knows where ghosts hide. But we know what he left behind. And now, it’s your turn to carry it.” The boy stepped forward. “Tell me what this is.” The man slid the binder across. “This is everything. Your past. Your mission. And the truth about who really lit the first fire.” The boy opened it. What he saw made him freeze. A name. A location. And a list of codewords he thought were myths. Behind him, another voice whispered in the shadows: “Welcome back, kid. Dead Zone was waiting for you.”
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Fiction
Broken S:1 E:1 Left Behind
4 weeks before Christmas... Makayla get home at 10:57pm from Christmas shopping with Liv. She shuts the car door and waves as Liv and her mom drive off. She picks up the ton of shopping bags she has. She walks up the porch and unlocks the door and struggles to get her house keys.
By ShaeWritesabout a year ago in Fiction
Chapter 2 : Dead Zone East
They moved before the smoke changed color. No talking. No questions. Every step measured, every corner treated like a loaded gun. The older boy led. No name. No nickname. Names were stolen the day the city collapsed. Behind him, the girl with the slingshot stayed sharp. Her eyes scanned rooftops. She walked like someone who had already dodged bullets in her sleep. The group reached a half-burned checkpoint. Concrete walls, barbed wire melted into spirals, and a faded symbol on the gate a red circle with a jagged X through it. It wasn’t just a warning. It was a message: Anyone beyond this point is already dead. They stepped through anyway. The twitchy boy everyone called him Rook paused beside the wall. He stared at the old security booth. Its glass was shattered. A boot lay inside, still tied. No foot inside. Just the boot. “This place smells wrong,” he muttered. The older boy turned. “Everything smells wrong. Keep moving.” They passed a truck flipped on its side. A trail of dried blood ran from its open door into the cracked pavement. No body. Just streaks. Like something had been dragged. They reached a wall that had once been part of a school. Now it held only one thing: a spray-painted map, drawn in thick red lines. The girl stepped closer. “That wasn’t here last week.” The boy scanned it. Red X’s. Circles. Arrows leading underground. His eyes narrowed. “This is fresh.” Rook dropped his bag and pulled out a lighter. He burned the edge of a nearby poster to see how fast the paper caught fire. “Ink’s still wet,” he said. “Somebody just did this.” They all stepped back. Then the youngest his name still unknown pointed to a small symbol in the corner. A triangle inside a circle. Etched in black. The girl’s face went pale. “The Signal Division.” No one replied. That name was supposed to be extinct eliminated two winters ago in a raid that burned half the city. But here it was, freshly marked. Suddenly, a noise. Click. From the wall itself. A stone shifted slow, sharp, deliberate. The boy shoved them all down, just as POP shhhhhh Gas hissed out of a tiny hole in the wall. They scrambled back, coughing, shielding their faces. The gas smelled like copper and rotting sugar. It wasn’t smoke. It was something else. Designed to make you slow. To make you weak. The boy dragged the youngest behind a rusted bin, ripped a shirt sleeve, doused it in water, and pressed it over the kid’s mouth. “Stay low. Don’t breathe too deep.” The girl had already pulled out two tiny black pills from her sock— antitox. She handed one to Rook, swallowed the other. They waited. Minutes passed. The gas drifted toward the rooftops. Silence returned. Then the boy stood. Eyes locked on the red map again. “They’re watching,” he said. “How do you know?” Rook asked. The boy pointed to a nearby building. A shattered window. And the faintest movement behind it gone before you could blink. “Because this wasn’t a trap,” he said. “It was a test.” “A test for what?” the girl asked.
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Fiction
