Short Story
Symbiotic: Chapter 23
Chapter 23 Before charging forward, Sara spent a moment to fiddle with how the System Notifications were delivered during combat. She figured out how to have the System stop sending her notifications every time she used a skill or ability of what it had costs and what remained.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)10 months ago in Fiction
The Room That Waited
No one spoke of it anymore. At the far end of the old house, past the narrow hallway and the staircase that groaned under every step, there was a door that had not been opened in decades. Its paint was chipped and dulled by time, the brass knob cold and unyielding, as though it had absorbed every winter that passed unnoticed. The family had learned to walk past it, to ignore it, as though silence could erase its existence.
By Ariana Hunter10 months ago in Fiction
Symbiotic: Chapter 22
Chapter 22 Sara knelt in the narrow empty tunnel, the only sound her own breathing. She laid her old spear across the stone floor, its familiar weight suddenly feeling inadequate against the unknown threat ahead. Closing her eyes, she pressed her palm to the shaft and whispered the command.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)10 months ago in Fiction
⟡ We Buried the Sun With Our Hands ⟡
The year the sun stopped rising, we were told not to look for God. Everyone waited anyway. The sky stayed bruised purple for weeks, like dawn was ashamed to show itself. We lit fires in the streets, burning memories instead of wood — trinkets, photographs, journal pages — until smoke tasted like the past. People swore they saw the sun kneeling beyond the horizon, head bowed like something grieving itself.
By Ariana Hunter10 months ago in Fiction
The Argument of Elements
The Almanac of Greenhaven Farm didn’t just predict the weather; it held court with it. For generations, the Rowan family had followed its cryptic, poetic advice. Its pages, penned by long-gone hands, said things like, “Sow the south field when the willow weeps gold,” or “A quarrel is coming when the crows fly backwards.” The weather it described was less a system and more a living, temperamental entity.
By Habibullah10 months ago in Fiction
Chatroom 88AE
Mikhail unpackaged the dead server. It was supposed to be a fun salvage job. Just a weekend distraction to pass the time along. Productively. He had bought the dusty black drive from a University auction, the kind of forgotten tech no one bothered to catalogue. Half the lot was junk; cracked monitors, obsolete GPUs, cables that no modern port recognized. But this drive was different. Heavy. Warm. Even before he plugged it in. Like it had been thinking in its sleep.
By Kristen Keenon Fisher10 months ago in Fiction
Ali Baba and the Forty Riders of Shadows
Ali Baba was a poor woodcutter who lived a simple life on the edge of a dusty old town. His small home was modest, but peaceful, shared only with his gentle and hardworking wife. Every morning, he walked into the forest with his worn axe and his loyal donkey, hoping to gather enough wood to sell at the market. Life wasn’t easy, but Ali Baba never complained. He believed that honesty and patience would eventually bring him something good.
By Salman Writes10 months ago in Fiction
When Everything Beeps. Content Warning.
When he walked through the door, there was a beep. It didn't bother him; maybe it was a security thing. He came in and put the television on, but before it came on, it beeped. Each time he changed a channel, it beeped. This was beginning to grate a little.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred - EBA10 months ago in Fiction
Our Family Home
Noell sat by the gaslit fireplace, picking at the missed dough under her fingernails. Laughter and voices throughout the house reached her ears but didn't penetrate her thoughts. A Christmas carol was playing in the background, adding to the buzz. The timer's bell went off but was ignored. Suddenly someone opened the front door, letting in a burst of cold, wafting the scent of fresh-baked cookies—finally waking her from memories.
By Nikki Torino Wagner10 months ago in Fiction
