Short Story
Cold Moon High
The year was 1987 and Nikki Barnes was walking to school. She clutched a book to her boobs she wished she had. Her blue eyes shone like wet marbles. Her red hair shimmered with a sheen so brilliant it could blind passersby. She wobbled a bit while she walked. She could smell wet leaves as she walked. Orange leaves clung to her tennis shoes.
By DJ Robbins11 months ago in Fiction
The Walk. Top Story - November 2025.
“The boy died three days from internal bleeding. His funeral will be tomorrow. Did you know that?” Father Graham shook his head, keeping his eyes on their steps along the sodden gravel and mud caked road, strewn lightly with damp, limp leaves from the dying autumn. The winter chill had yet to arrive, but a damp heavy air hung over the two men as they continued their walk.
By Conor Matthews11 months ago in Fiction
Something keeps calling the front desk asking for Room 112
I work night shifts at a mid-tier hotel — you know, the kind that sits right off the interstate and smells like coffee, carpet cleaner, and lost hope. My shifts are 11 p.m. to 7 a.m., which basically means I babysit an empty lobby and listen to the building breathe.
By V-Ink Stories11 months ago in Fiction
[FINAL UPDATE] The night clerk who posted about Room 112 is gone.
Hey, I work at the same hotel as the guy who wrote those posts about the phone calls asking for Room 112. I wasn’t sure if I should post this here, but I found something last night that I can’t stop thinking about.
By V-Ink Stories11 months ago in Fiction
Every night I take the elevator to the basement… even though we don’t have one
Hey everyone. I work nights at a mid-range hotel off the highway. It’s not fancy, but it’s clean, quiet, and usually empty after midnight. I’m the night porter — basically, I clean up the lobby, restock towels, handle laundry, and do any random maintenance jobs that come up.
By V-Ink Stories11 months ago in Fiction
The cameras don’t catch who’s walking the halls at night.
(Posted by u/NightShiftWatcher – r/TrueOffMyChest) I work night security at a mid-range hotel in Colorado. It’s one of those places that’s been remodeled a dozen times but still somehow feels old — too many corners that don’t line up, too many flickering lights that maintenance “can’t find a reason for.”
By V-Ink Stories11 months ago in Fiction
The Perfect Match Was a Ghost
Leo’s dating life was a graveyard. A silent, digital graveyard filled with one-word replies, vanished matches, and the haunting phrase “Seen 8:42 PM.” He was considering deleting the “Spark” app for good when a new match notification popped up.
By Habibullah11 months ago in Fiction
The Scent of Rain:. AI-Generated.
Alina had in no way appreciated rain. It reminded her of the night her mom died—Karachi’s skies weeping as if they knew some thing she didn’t. That night time, the heady scent of rosewater and sandalwood lingered inside the air, a fragrance her mom wore religiously. but after her dying, Alina may want to in no way recreate it. She attempted each method, every ratio. not anything felt right.
By The Writer...A_Awan11 months ago in Fiction
Green
It was less a monastery than a squat stone refuge, half-swallowed by the mountain. Inside, the monks’ bones lay scattered across the floor. Skulls cracked open. One skeleton had its bony fingers wrapped around another’s throat. They hadn’t died of old age. Something drove them to madness. Maybe it was the curse tied to the treasure we came for.
By Steve Lance11 months ago in Fiction
The Girl Who Remembered Tomorrow
She woke up on the same street again. Fog covered the old stone road like a ghost, curling around the silent streetlights. The morning felt both too early and too slow. Shadows moved strangely in the mist, and she felt a heavy pull in her chest, the weight of knowing what would happen before it did.
By Wahdat Rauf11 months ago in Fiction
