Short Story

Godzilla x Kong: Supernova Is the Next Monster verse Movie
The Titans are rising once again—and this time, they’re heading for the stars. Legendary Pictures and Warner Bros. have officially confirmed the next installment in their Monster verse saga: Godzilla x Kong: Supernova. The film is currently in production and is expected to hit theaters in 2027, continuing the explosive legacy of the cinematic universe that has thrilled audiences since 2014.
By rokib ahmedabout a year ago in Fiction
When Character is Lost
Ali Rahman was a name that echoed through the city like the roar of a bold, fearless, and admired lion. From humble beginnings in a narrow alley of a bustling South Asian market, Ali rose to build a textile empire that touched international borders. He had the big house, expensive cars, a loyal workforce, and a name synonymous with success. People often asked him his secret, and he would smirk and say, “Success is never ending, my friend. You just have to keep moving forward.” He believed failure was only for those who lacked ambition. But life has a quiet way of humbling even the most confident souls. It all began with an investment. A risky one. Ali was promised massive returns in record time, and greed, masked as ambition, led him to pour millions into it. At first, the numbers looked promising. But within months, the market plummeted. The deal was a scam. Overnight, Ali lost almost everything.
By Hamayun Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
“How to be Normal”
“Get stoned for the rest of your life.” Quinn blinked for a few moments, completely taken aback. “W-what?” Her mentor shrugged as he faced the setting sun.
By Taylor Rigsbyabout a year ago in Fiction
The Cave of Shadows: How One Boy Faced His Fear and Changed a Village Forever
The small mountain village of Eldermere had lived in fear for as long as anyone could remember. High up in the rocky cliffs stood the dreaded Black Hollow Cave - a place every child was warned never to approach. "The Shadow Beast lives there," parents would whisper. "It waits in the darkness to snatch away curious children."
By Hamayun Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
10 Lessons That Each Harry Potter Book Gave Us.
Harry Potter Lessons Title: An 8000-Word Exploration of Magic, Morality, and Maturity: Ten Lessons That Each Harry Potter Book Gave Us Introduction
By Krypton about a year ago in Fiction
3 Impressive Hot Wheels Star Wars Series.
Introduction When two beloved franchises collide, magic happens. Hot Wheels, the iconic die-cast car brand from Mattel, and Star Wars, the legendary space opera from Lucasfilm, have joined forces over the years to create some of the most visually stunning and collectible toy series in history. With their roots deep in pop culture, both brands have fans spanning multiple generations, and the Hot Wheels Star Wars collaboration has become a must-have for collectors, fans, and enthusiasts alike.
By Krypton about a year ago in Fiction
The Weight of Kindness: A Child’s Heart Sees What Eyes Cannot
Once upon a time, in a bustling city filled with towering buildings and hurried footsteps, there stood a grand statue in the middle of a park. The statue was of a mighty warrior, his face stern and his armor gleaming under the sun. It was heavy, unmovable, and revered by all who passed by. People admired it for its artistry, its history, and its imposing presence. But no one ever truly saw it—until one day, a little boy named Leo came along.
By Hamayun Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
"Whispers of Peace". AI-Generated.
The village of Eloria sat on the edge of a great divide—between two kingdoms that had been at war for as long as memory allowed. Smoke from distant fires often drifted over its quiet hills, and the people had long since stopped counting the seasons by harvests, and instead by the length of peace between skirmishes.
By "TaleAlchemy"about a year ago in Fiction
The Kangaroo Who Adopted a Lamb
In the dusty heart of the Australian Outback, where the land stretched wide under an endless blue sky and the air shimmered with heat, there was a small, family-run farm. It wasn’t much—just a scattering of sheds, fields surrounded by battered fences, and a collection of animals tough enough to withstand the harsh climate. But there was one animal on this farm who didn’t quite fit the rugged mold. Her name was Roo, a gentle kangaroo who had lived on the farm since she was orphaned as a joey and rescued by the farmer’s daughter, Ellie.
By Only true about a year ago in Fiction
STARLIGHT PARASITE . Content Warning.
They called it The Eye of Nysa—a rogue star caught drifting between galaxies, flickering faintly like a beacon no one meant to follow. The crew of the long-range explorer Odyssia didn’t go looking for it. The Eye found them. It started with light. A pale shimmer that leaked into the observation deck’s viewports—an impossible glow with no known source, pulsing like a heartbeat. Dr. Vanya Roth, xenobiologist, was the first to see it. She stared at it for five minutes, unmoving, before someone shook her. “Are you okay?” asked Lieutenant Bray. She turned slowly, smile thin. “It’s not a star.” By the next day, Vanya was different. She stopped eating. Her voice came out slow, deliberate, like she had to remember how to form words. When Captain Halverson asked what she thought the Eye was, she whispered: “It’s looking for hosts.” They isolated her in medbay. But the light spread. Not outside the ship—inside. The walls of the Odyssia developed a soft bioluminescent shimmer, pulsing in rhythm. The engineer, Cortes, opened a wall panel and found no power source—just a strange, translucent film spread over the wires, like roots searching for blood. He burned it with a plasma torch. It grew back. Day 3. Vanya vanished from medbay. Security footage showed her stepping into a blank hallway—and vanishing mid-step. The lights flickered, and then she was gone, like the ship had swallowed her whole. Captain Halverson declared emergency protocol and rerouted the ship away from the Eye. The ship didn’t move. Day 4. Bray began vomiting black fluid. Cortes started humming a melody no one taught him, one that made others’ skin crawl. He called it the song from the starlight. When asked how he knew it, he said: “She sings it to me when I sleep.” No one slept much after that. Halverson locked himself in the cockpit, sending distress signals back to Earth, but no one responded. Not because of interference—but because the ship’s log showed no signal was ever sent. Something was rerouting their messages. Erasing their voices before they could escape. Bray died that night. His corpse dissolved into a puddle of black liquid that slithered into the vent system. Day 5. Cortes disappeared. Security found a smear of bloody handprints leading to the maintenance shaft—and a series of symbols etched in the floor, spirals and lines like constellations collapsing into one point. The Eye. Vanya’s voice played over the intercom, though she was still missing. “Stop running. You’ll only make it hungry.” Day 6. They found the nest. In hydroponics, the plants had overgrown, mutated—tendrils wrapping around glowing sacs suspended like lanterns. Inside each, something writhed, half-formed. One of the sacs burst. Inside was Cortes—or what used to be him. His skin was transparent. Beneath it, black threads pulsed, carrying starlight through his veins. He opened his mouth and whispered, “It needs a navigator.” Halverson shot him twice. Cortes didn’t bleed. He collapsed like empty skin. Day 7. Only two remained: Halverson and Nav Officer Elia Chen. They tried to escape in the shuttle. The moment it launched, the light returned—stronger now, like a storm of whispers behind their eyes. Elia screamed and clawed at her face. When Halverson looked, her eyes were gone—burned out, replaced by twin pinpricks of starlight. She whispered, “We’re part of it now.” He ejected her into space. Day 8. The ship changed. The corridors lengthened. Doors led nowhere. Gravity shifted at will. Halverson ran, hiding in supply closets, talking to himself to drown out the constant thrum in his head. It wasn’t words anymore. Just hunger. He found Vanya again—or something wearing her shape. She floated in midair, suspended by threads of light. Her limbs were longer now. Her skin too smooth. Her smile not quite human. “We were never meant to travel this far,” she said gently. “We’re intruders. And it’s lonely out here.” He raised his gun. She tilted her head. “You brought it with you the moment you saw it. The Eye doesn’t move. It waits. It projects itself. Into minds. Into ships. Into you.” He pulled the trigger. Click. Empty. Day 9. Halverson sat in the cockpit, starlight bleeding in through the glass. He had stopped blinking. The Eye pulsed before him—no longer distant. It filled the view. It was the view. He opened the comms, placed a single repeating transmission on loop. “This is the Odyssia. Do not approach the Eye of Nysa. It’s not a star. It’s not light. It’s a parasite. It lives in perception. If you see it, it sees you.” Behind him, the hatch slid open with a soft hiss. Light spilled in. AFTERMATH LOG – DEEP SCAN UNIT 77 Recovered from derelict vessel Odyssia – drifting between sectors. Crew status: None found. Ship systems overwritten by unknown protocol labeled “Vanya”. Primary communication still active. Message on loop: “…do not look at it. Do not chart it. Do not name it.” Final words from Captain Halverson: “The stars are not lifeless. Some are mouths.”
By E. hasanabout a year ago in Fiction
"The Tree That Remembered"
The Tree That Remembered Once upon a time, in the quiet heart of a small village, stood an ancient tree known as the Remembering Tree. It was a towering oak with bark as rough as old leather and branches that stretched like arms embracing the sky. No one knew exactly how old the tree was, but the villagers believed it had been there longer than the village itself. Children played beneath its branches, lovers carved their initials into its bark, and old folks leaned against its trunk to tell stories of the past. But what made the Remembering Tree truly special was a whisper passed from generation to generation: the tree remembers everything. At first, people thought it was just a saying. But then, one crisp autumn morning, a boy named Eli found something strange. As he sat under the tree reading a worn book, he whispered a secret to himself, something he had never told anyone. “I wish I knew what my grandfather was like,” Eli said softly. His grandfather had passed away before he was born, and all he had were faded photographs and short tales. To his surprise, a breeze rustled through the golden leaves, and one drifted down, landing gently on the open pages of his book. Carved into the leaf, as though etched by time itself, were words: "He used to whistle when he worked in the garden. Always wore blue. Loved raspberry jam." Eli stared, wide-eyed. The leaf trembled, then crumbled into dust, but the words stayed in his mind. Somehow, impossibly, the tree had answered. Excited, Eli ran to tell his grandmother. Tears filled her eyes as he repeated what the tree had said. “That’s all true,” she whispered. “He did love raspberry jam.” Word of the magic spread quickly, and soon villagers began visiting the Remembering Tree not just for shade or stories, but for memories. If you whispered something honest and kind into the bark, the tree might share something in return—a detail forgotten, a moment lost to time, a gentle reminder. Years passed. The village grew, yet the tree remained. Children who once played at its roots grew into adults and brought their own children to meet the tree that remembered. But not everyone treated the tree with respect. One year, a man named Crayton came to the village. He was a collector of rare things and didn't believe in "village fairy tales." When he heard about the Remembering Tree, he scoffed. “Trees don’t remember. Trees are wood and leaf,” he said. “It’s all in their heads.” Determined to prove the villagers wrong, Crayton camped under the tree one night with his notebook and recorder. He waited. He whispered nonsense. He laughed when nothing happened. But just before dawn, as the sky turned lavender and gold, a branch slowly bent down and dropped a single leaf into his lap. It read: "You have forgotten what it means to believe." Crayton stared at the leaf. He felt a strange warmth bloom in his chest—a memory of a time when he believed in wonder, when he used to collect fireflies in jars and make wishes on stars. Silently, he folded the leaf and placed it in his notebook. From that day, Crayton never doubted the tree again. As the years rolled on, the Remembering Tree became a part of the village’s soul. It never spoke of the future, only the past, and only to those who asked with an open heart. It held memories not just of people, but of laughter, love, sorrow, and joy. Then, one winter, a storm came. It howled through the village and cracked trees like twigs. When it passed, the Remembering Tree stood broken—its main trunk split, branches fallen, roots torn. The village mourned. People gathered around the fallen giant, laying flowers and whispering thanks. But as the spring sun rose and warmed the earth, something incredible happened. From the heart of the old stump, a green shoot emerged—small, bright, and full of life. The children named it Little Memory, and it grew year by year. Though not as large as its predecessor, it too began to whisper to those who listened. And so, the story continues. Not all trees remember. But some do. And if you’re ever lucky enough to find one, remember this: Speak kindly. Ask gently. And never forget to believe.
By Ammabout a year ago in Fiction
Spontaneous Date
Bri ran through the ice-cold rain, her vibrant red dress; ripped. One strap had been completely removed and left in shreds, revealing a large slash that cut deep into her shoulder. Her feet were covered in thick wet mud as she ran, tears streaming down her cheeks as she struggled to catch her breath. She was in shock, traumatized, confused, and lost in her mind as she tried to understand what had happened. Her body was moving on its own while her mind raced.
By Cattalinaabout a year ago in Fiction