Short Story

The Dead World
Another quiet night, just the way Connor liked. It had taken some time but he'd eventually learned to live with it. The silence almost as oppresive as the bleak night. Of course he had to ignore the occasional groan of a passing zombie. But in five years it only now elicitted a slight feeling of dread.
By Joe Harris12 months ago in Fiction
Nothing II. Honorable Mention in A Knock at the Door Challenge. Content Warning.
I wake to a knock. The room is dark, and I am dazed. The rapping is at my bathroom door. Uneasy, I plant both feet on the hardwood floors. I rise and move forward, but there is nothing out of the ordinary on the other side.
By Ashley Lima12 months ago in Fiction
Why My Body Remembers. Content Warning.
The night bus to Bangalore smells of diesel and longing. I press my forehead against the cool, vibrating window, watching the neon signs of Chennai blur into streaks of fuchsia and gold. My phone is dead. My backpack, stuffed under the seat, holds a single change of clothes and a dog-eared copy of a Rumi translation I pretend to understand. This is not a pilgrimage. It’s a flight. A crack in the surface of my well-ordered life, and I have slipped through.
By Chahat12 months ago in Fiction
Three Knocks Below. Runner-Up in A Knock at the Door Challenge. Top Story - December 2025.
Silence has a texture under the sea. It isn’t empty — it breathes. It hums against the steel, curls into the corners, whispers in your skull until you start to hear your own blood. We were two miles beneath the surface when I heard it.
By Thadeus 12 months ago in Fiction
The Lighthouse Between Worlds
The lighthouse had been silent for decades. No ships passed the cliffs of Windmere anymore—no sailors, no storms, just the endless hush of waves against stone.
By Muhammad zahoor12 months ago in Fiction
The Last Message from Earth
The universe was quiet now. Once, billions of stars had whispered with the laughter of life. Now, only the hum of cold, distant galaxies filled the endless dark.
By Muhammad zahoor12 months ago in Fiction
The Last Garden on Earth
The world had forgotten what green looked like. Cities were made of metal and ash, skies were silver with dust, and oceans were mirrors of poison. For thirty years, humanity had lived under domes that filtered air and light — a sterile cage built to protect them from the wasteland they had created.
By Muhammad zahoor12 months ago in Fiction
The Fearless Woman of Dera Ghazi Khan
: The Fearless Woman of Dera Ghazi Khan By Hassan Akhtar In the Saraiki-speaking regions of southern Punjab, names like Tagi and Taga were once common among men and women alike. But with time, they’ve faded away—victims of modernization and linguistic shame. As people began speaking Urdu with their children, their mother tongues suffered. Ancient words and names, once full of meaning, now seem strange and empty to the new generation. But our story is not about language alone. It’s about Tagi, a woman whose name once echoed across the plains of Dera Ghazi Khan—a tall, striking, and fearless figure who lived by her own code. Tagi was, by profession, a bandit. Yet she wasn’t the kind you’d imagine lurking in the shadows to harm the helpless. She had her own rules. The villages surrounding her home were her protected zone. She never stole from her own people. Her targets lay far beyond her native soil, where her name carried both fear and fascination. Legend has it that a young man once fell hopelessly in love with her. He would wander at night, hoping to catch a glimpse of the infamous beauty. Tagi always worked alone, and for many nights he failed to find her. Then one fateful night, their paths crossed. Startled, Tagi demanded to know what he was doing wandering so late. The young man, trembling yet determined, confessed his love and offered to join her in her dangerous adventures. Tagi, however, was already married. She refused him gently—but when he tried to grab her hand, she twisted his arm so forcefully that not only did his passion evaporate, but his bone broke in two places. That was Tagi—beautiful but unbreakable. Some time later, Tagi became pregnant. Even that didn’t stop her from her nightly raids. One night, while passing through a graveyard, labor pains struck suddenly. Alone under the cold moonlight, she gave birth to a baby girl. She cleaned herself and the child in a nearby pond, wrapped the infant in her shawl, and placed her gently inside the hollow trunk of a tree before heading out to complete her robbery. Hours later, the newborn began to cry from hunger. A stray dog, drawn by the sound, managed to pull the baby out of the hollow. Meanwhile, Tagi successfully completed her heist and rushed back to retrieve her child. What she saw froze her in place—the dog was carrying the infant away in its mouth. She screamed, chased the animal down, and rescued her daughter. The child was alive. Tagi nursed her there under the stars and took her home. That little girl would grow up to be Tagi’s only child—the one pure light in her otherwise dark world. Years passed. One day, a wandering Pathan tribe camped near Tagi’s village. Their leader possessed two large jars filled with gold coins, guarded day and night by two fierce hounds. The Pathan, full of pride, announced to everyone, “If Tagi or any other thief can steal my gold, I’ll forgive them. But I know they can’t. My dogs never fail.” Tagi, hearing this, sent a polite message: “You’re in my territory, and as my guest, I won’t trouble you.” The Pathan laughed mockingly. His scorn stung Tagi’s pride. Weeks later, after the tribe had moved to a new campsite, Tagi decided to teach him a lesson—not out of greed, but to settle the score. Her clever mind devised a daring plan. She captured a female dog from a nearby village and, under the cover of darkness, approached the Pathan’s camp. Long before she reached the tents, the Pathan’s dogs picked up the scent of the female and bolted toward it, barking wildly. Tagi quickly set the captured dog down and slipped silently into the camp. Inside, the Pathan slept deeply, confident in his dogs’ vigilance. Without making a sound, Tagi lifted the two heavy jars of gold, balanced them on her head, and began her journey back. On the way, she picked up the female dog again, ensuring the two male hounds followed her all the way home. At dawn, the Pathan woke to find his gold and his dogs gone. Furious and humiliated, he followed their tracks straight to Tagi’s village. There he found his dogs calmly tied outside her house. He confronted Tagi, his pride shattered. “At least tell me,” he pleaded, “how did you do it?” Tagi smiled. “Your dogs weren’t guarding your gold—they were guarding their hearts. I simply gave them something they loved more.” The Pathan couldn’t help but laugh, admiring her wit and courage. He said, “You’ve beaten me fair and square. Keep the gold. Just promise me one thing—leave this life behind.” Tagi agreed. True to her word, she gave up banditry and lived the rest of her life in peace, raising her daughter with the strength and honor that had defined her own wild youth. In the villages of Dera Ghazi Khan, her name still lingers in whispers—Tagi, the fearless woman who outsmarted men, beasts, and fate itself.
By Khan 12 months ago in Fiction
EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED
My name is Alan. I inherited my auntie's house, 'Ivy Cottage', six months ago. Since my childhood, I have been there many times with my parents. I knew the place inside out. I just moved in and started reorganizing the rooms to my taste. It is a house in a suburb of the city, near the national park. It is a little isolated house. I only have two neighbors, separated by the large garden of mine, making it very spooky when it is pitch black in the evenings. On the ground floor, it has a large two reception rooms, a modern kitchen with a downstairs toilet. Upstairs, there are three bedrooms and a bath. The typical nineteenth-century detached property needed little upgrading. I installed a video ring bell with intercom for security, allowing me to see who is at the door on my laptop or mobile, which has put my mind at rest. I thought these new gadgets had killed childhood games; Auntie's shouting to mum,
By kayhan egeli12 months ago in Fiction
ChronoSeed
Dr. Aris Thorne was a botanist of the absolute. Her laboratory was a sterile, silver bubble clinging to the side of a dying world. Outside, the air was a toxic haze, and the soil was a gray, lifeless dust. Her life’s work, Project Verdant, was a failure. Every genetically engineered super-seed she planted withered within days, unable to cope with the poisoned earth.
By Habibullah12 months ago in Fiction
The Day I Learned to Let Go. AI-Generated.
I still remember the way the sunlight spilled across my bedroom floor that morning. It should have felt warm, comforting… but all I felt was empty.
By Tosif Hadair12 months ago in Fiction
The Knock that Woke Me. Content Warning.
*Trigger Warning: Home Invasion and Death of a Pet * A knock. Was it really a knock? Could it have been merely a left over fragment of a dream mistaken for reality?
By Penina Pohl12 months ago in Fiction