Short Story

The Cafe's Empty Chair. AI-Generated.
The small brass bell above the door of the café always rang twice when the wind blew. Every Tuesday afternoon, I sat at my usual table, drank my coffee, and stared at the empty seat near the big window. It was a simple dark wood chair with a small notch carved into the back.
By M.Fiazabout a month ago in Fiction
The Last Passenger. AI-Generated.
The 11:45 PM train out of the city was always quiet, but tonight felt different. Rain was heavy against the window, blurring the yellow streetlights outside into long streaks of soft light. I leaned my head against the cold glass, feeling the hum of the engine beneath my feet. I was completely exhausted—not just from a long day at work, but from months of feeling like I was living a life that wasn't really mine.
By M.Fiazabout a month ago in Fiction
Noise. Top Story - May 2023.
Unknown Noises The house was quiet. He was alone. He wanted to be alone, he wanted quiet, no television, no radio. He switched off his phone. He wanted peace. He wanted to rest, He would have it.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about a month ago in Fiction
KNOCK, KNOCK, WHO'S THERE pt 2
KNOCK, KNOCK, WHO’S THERE? Pt 2 Is that me or is it you? ** Anora stood on the concrete city sidewalk and looked up at the tall building.
By Margaret Brennanabout a month ago in Fiction
My Neighbor Left Me a Key With One Strange Warning. AI-Generated.
Old Mr. Henderson was the kind of neighbor who kept his lawn immaculate and his interactions brief. For six years, our relationship consisted entirely of polite nods over the fence and the occasional wave while taking out the trash. So when he knocked on my door on a rainy Tuesday evening, holding a heavy silver brass key, I was completely caught off guard.
By M.Fiazabout a month ago in Fiction
Every Night at 2:17, Someone Knocked on My Door. AI-Generated.
The first time it happened, I brushed it off as a half-asleep delusion. It was a cold, sharp Thursday in mid-November, and the wind outside was howling through the bare oak branches in my front yard. I woke up abruptly to three heavy, rhythmic knocks on my front door. Knock. Knock. Knock. I rolled over, blinked at the glowing red digits on my alarm clock— 2:17 AM —and assumed it was a lost neighbor or a confused delivery driver. But when I pulled back the window curtain, the porch was empty. The street lay dead silent under the amber glow of a single streetlight.
By M.Fiazabout a month ago in Fiction
Somewhere Special. Content Warning.
“Erica, you can do this. This is what you want. Remember?” Talking to myself again, out loud, in the mirror. But I was right. It was everything I wanted. Not having the burden of what I was born with. I could finally have freedom from the expectations and wouldn't have to feel bad about saying no so goddamn much.
By Paul Stewartabout a month ago in Fiction
MORGAN BLACKHAND: THE MAN WHO OUTLIVED THE LEGEND
2077. Night City remembered Morgan Blackhand badly. That suited Morgan just fine. Most famous Solos eventually became drinks at the Afterlife. Their names survived because their bodies didn’t. Stories became bigger than the people inside them. Details changed. Witnesses lied. Drunks improved the endings.
By Alejandro Arangoabout a month ago in Fiction
Call of War
Thunderous, beast-like roars echo across the landscape, creating a terrifying symphony—a war ensemble. The Celts unleash their battle cry deep within the forest, blowing their horns and igniting a primal fear within their enemies. What instils this fear of the unknown? Who are they? How many are there? Where are they? The beastly trumpets continue to sound.
By Aoife’s stories about a month ago in Fiction
Stir the Blood 🐺
The man is stark naked, but that's not the first thing you notice about him. Not even if you might have had a lifetime of longing and whatifs trailing out behind you like an unused wedding train. To the point any romantic or lustful tendencies long since atrophied, and your greatest satisfaction is ensuring every strand of hair in your tight bun is placed with military, even geometric precision.
By L.C. Schäferabout a month ago in Fiction
How Silence Helped Me Reclaim My Life. AI-Generated.
The quiet hours of the early morning have a distinct way of stripping away the noise of the world. Long before the city wakes, before the rush of traffic and the relentless ping of notifications take over, there is a sacred pause. I sat by the narrow window of my apartment, watching the dark sky slowly soften into shades of muted violet and pale gold. In my hand, a mug of coffee grew cold as I stared at the blank page in front of me.
By M.Fiazabout a month ago in Fiction
One Missed Call. AI-Generated.
It was a calm evening in Shanuou, a small town. Sarah , a young college student, sat at her desk, studying for her final exams. Her apartment felt cozy as she flipped through her textbooks.
By M.Fiazabout a month ago in Fiction