Short Story
A Knock at the Door
The knock, when it came, was so soft that Elara almost mistook it for the wind nudging a branch against the eaves. She paused, her knitting needles freezing mid-stitch. The little cottage was silent, save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth. It was a deep, introspective silence she had cultivated for years, a buffer against the noise of a world that had moved on without her.
By Evanthia Giannou12 months ago in Fiction
The Midnight Visitor
Knock, knock, knock. The sound woke me up from an otherwise restful sleep. Who was at the door? Why were they there? Throwing back the covers and grabbing my robe, I swung out my legs and stumbled my way out of my bedroom and toward the front door.
By Amethyst Champagne12 months ago in Fiction
Death's Doorstep. Content Warning.
Laughter filled Mark's ears, drowning out pained cries and begging prayers. The laughter was innocent and familiar, calming him, and forcing him to forget who was crying, and what they were crying for. He wiped tears off of his own face as he looked around, seeing his childhood bedroom. Superhero posters lined the walls and his bed was perfectly made under his flat blue blankets. Cartoons played on his TV and Lego blocks littered his carpeted floor. He hadn’t been home in years, and his mom told him that she’d repurposed his old room, so he didn't understand why it looked how it did when he was young. On his nightstand next to a photo of Mark's father holding him as a baby, sat a colorful spiderman watch. He’d lost that watch years ago. He went to pick it up when he heard a knock at the front door.
By Da’mon-Ahsy Eugene Thompson12 months ago in Fiction
The Wrong Address
The house had been settled for hours. The fridge hummed peacefully as I finished cleaning up the kitchen and preparing to settle in. The streetlight in the cul-de-sac made the living room floor glow softly in it's pale light. I brought my book to the living room, tucking myself in under a soft blanket. Inside the hush of rustling pages as I opened my book, the whole night felt careful, like a child holding a glass of water filled to the brim, trying not to spill a drop.
By Autumn Stew12 months ago in Fiction
The Weight of Light
The first time Saira noticed the crack in her reflection, she was washing dishes at 2 AM, unable to sleep again. In the kitchen window’s dark mirror, where her temple should have been, there was a diamond-shaped opening — not a wound, but a window. Through it, a solitary streetlamp stood against midnight blue, its amber cone of light falling on empty pavement like a held breath.
By Prompted Beauty12 months ago in Fiction
The Bracken Will Wither
What happens when the looking eye notices you? That was a question Donald Finnegan asked himself as he was transfixed, bent over the door to the old cellar of the bar, where a saline-dripping, large iris looked from side to side before focusing on him. Salt crusted the handle as a thin layer of sea mist rose from under the door. As he knew full well the door led to nothing but an old, unused storeroom and then the thick back wall of the bar, he put it down to the whisky. He fell backwards, turned away, and ignored it. Daft bastard.
By Paul Stewart12 months ago in Fiction
Bujang Senang: The White-Striped Marauder
Their bodies were thrown into the river, and legend says that the gods, angered by the injustice, cursed Simalungun and his wife. Simalungun’s spirit transformed into a colossal crocodile, marked with descendants of his enemies. His wife, transformed into a crocodile as well, followed by his shadow. Thus, the legend of Bujang Senang was born – a “Crocodile King” feared along the Batang Lupar River.
By Doveryn Joyce 12 months ago in Fiction
The Painter of Forgotten Faces. AI-Generated.
The town of Windmere was known for two things — its endless fog and its quiet secrets. On the edge of its cobblestone streets stood a small art studio, its windows always glowing softly at night. Inside lived a painter named Jonas Vale, a man both admired and feared for his peculiar gift.
By shakir hamid12 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker’s Secret. AI-Generated.
In the heart of a small European town stood a little clock shop called Teller’s Timepieces. It was easy to miss — wedged between a bakery and a tailor’s store, with a dusty sign that hadn’t been repainted in decades. But those who knew the place spoke of its owner, Elias Teller, as a man who could fix any clock in the world — even those long thought broken forever.
By shakir hamid12 months ago in Fiction
