Short Story
Echoes of Yesterday
The year is 2077. Mumbai’s skyline, a jagged tapestry of skyscrapers piercing the ever-present smog, hummed with the electric thrum of a city that never slept. But in Elara’s small apartment in Bandra, a heavy silence reigned. The only light came from a holographic projector casting a ghostly blue glow on the cluttered room.
By hiteshsinh solankiabout a year ago in Fiction
My Coffee Mornings: 5:00-5:30
I love those early mornings when it's just me and my coffee. God, there's something magical about waking up at 5 AM when the whole house is quiet. No kids running around, no texts or emails buzzing - just me in that peaceful bubble between night and morning.
By Subhasri Devarajabout a year ago in Fiction
The Garden Blooms
The Garden Blooms by Kabir Ahmed Chowdury Flowers have bloomed in the garden. That’s only natural—flowers 'will' bloom in a garden, so what’s there to fuss about? They’ll bloom, spread their fragrance, attract bees, and draw butterflies! Oh, wait—why would bees come? Is there a honeycomb tucked away in the garden for bees to swarm to? Maybe not, but what’s the harm in imagining it? A passing traveler might suddenly pause, struck by the sight.
By Chowdhury Kabirabout a year ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker’s Daughter
Chapter 1: The Thirteenth Chime The fire alarm screamed at 3:33 a.m. Evelyn jolted awake, her heart slamming against her ribs. Smoke curled under her bedroom door like ghostly fingers. She stumbled to the window, but the latch—rusted shut for years—refused to budge. Behind her, flames licked the walls of her father’s old clock shop, devouring decades of gears, pendulums, and handwritten repair logs.
By Sanchita Chatterjeeabout a year ago in Fiction
The Library of Forgotten Words
The first time Clara stumbled into the library, she wasn’t looking for answers. She was running from the silence. It had been six months since the accident—since the screech of tires and the hollow ring of a phone call had cleaved her life in two. Her husband, James, was gone, and with him, the sound of his laughter, the cadence of his voice, the stories he’d scribble on napkins and slip into her coat pockets. Now, their apartment echoed with absence. So Clara walked. She walked until her feet blistered, until the streets of London blurred into a maze of rain and stone. That’s when she saw it: a crooked building wedged between a pawnshop and a boarded-up café, its sign hanging by a single chain.
By Sanchita Chatterjeeabout a year ago in Fiction
“The Forgotten Town That Doesn’t Exist on Any Map – A Chilling Urban Legend”
The Discovery It began like any other road trip. Jenna and Marcus were driving cross-country, taking the scenic route through old backroads of rural Pennsylvania. Their GPS signal had been weak for hours, but the road was clear, and they weren’t in a rush. As the sun began to dip below the treetops, a faded wooden sign caught their attention: Welcome to Dry Hollow – Pop. ??? The sign was old and splintered, the paint barely visible. It wasn’t listed on any of the travel apps they were using. Curious and a bit spooked, they decided to explore. They turned off the main road and entered a place that seemed suspended in time. A Town Stuck in Another Era The houses were Victorian in style but dilapidated, as though untouched for decades. Overgrown weeds swallowed front porches. Streetlamps flickered with a dim orange glow, despite the sun not having fully set. An old diner stood at the corner of what looked like Main Street, with a neon sign that blinked “Open” even though there was no one inside. What was most unsettling wasn’t the state of decay—it was the silence. Not a bird, not a dog barking, not even the wind. Just absolute, eerie stillness. Yet the town didn’t feel abandoned. It felt… watched. The Locals Who Shouldn’t Be There Just as they debated turning back, they saw her. An elderly woman, dressed in a faded floral dress, sitting on a rocking chair. She smiled, but there was something strange about it—like her face was remembering a time her soul had long forgotten. “Not many folks come through Dry Hollow anymore,” she said. Jenna asked how long she had lived there. “Oh, all my life, dear. Since 1924.” Marcus laughed nervously. “You look great for a hundred.” She didn’t laugh. “Time moves different here.” Before they could ask more, a man stepped out of the shadows. “You should get going before dark,” he said firmly. “Roads get hard to follow at night.” They didn’t need more convincing. They got back into their car and took off. The Town That Disappears Back on the main road, the GPS came back online. Jenna tried searching for Dry Hollow—nothing. No results. They backtracked the way they came, trying to retrace their steps. But the turnoff was gone. The old sign? Vanished. It was as if the town had been swallowed whole. They checked historical maps and online databases when they got home. No mention. They even asked locals in nearby towns—none had heard of Dry Hollow. Theories and Whispers Urban explorers and Reddit threads occasionally bring up similar stories. A handful of users claim to have visited towns with similar qualities: people dressed in out-of-date clothing, silence too deep to be natural, and a strange sense of timelessness. Some think these towns are echoes—residual energy from tragic pasts, like entire towns caught in spiritual loops. Others believe they are slips in reality, where the veil between dimensions thins. A few even whisper about government experiments, towns erased from the grid for reasons better left unknown. One popular theory says Dry Hollow was quarantined after a mysterious illness in the 1930s. Rather than letting the infection spread, the town was wiped off every official record—and perhaps something else kept it going. Why You Shouldn’t Look for It It’s tempting to think of Dry Hollow as just a myth—a creepy campfire story for the digital age. But if Jenna and Marcus’s story is real (and they stick by it to this day), then perhaps some places aren’t meant to be found. After all, some maps leave things out on purpose. Final Thoughts Whether Dry Hollow is a figment of overactive imaginations or a sliver of an alternate reality, stories like this keep our fascination with the unknown alive. They remind us that even in a world of satellites and surveillance, mystery still has its hiding places. So next time you’re on a lonely road and you see a turnoff that wasn’t there before—ask yourself: do you really want to see where it leads?
By GadgetGroundabout a year ago in Fiction
My Toothbrush Doesn't Talk to Me
All day, at work, I tinker with things to make them ever more fancy. Every item in your home can be switched on or off with a clap, or a snap of your fingers, or else a tap of a button. Everything is synced to your phone, computer, laptop, T.V., tablet, and smartwatch.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
I Don’t Owe You Nice
Age 6: The First Cut I learned early that silence gets you nothing but crumbs. At my cousin’s birthday party, my aunt handed me a slice of cake half the size of everyone else’s. “You’re too chubby for more,” she smirked. The room laughed. My tiny hands shook, but I looked her dead in the eye: “Then I’m too chubby to hug you.” I left the cake uneaten and hid in the backyard. She never portion-shamed me again.
By Kratika Saxenaabout a year ago in Fiction
🔥 The Bridge of Hands 🔥
🌄 The Divided Valley In the remote valley of Thornshollow, men and women lived apart for centuries. Men forged tools on the eastern cliffs 🔨, while women healed and farmed in the western forests 🌿. A myth warned: “Work together, and the river will vanish.” Fear kept them divided—even as the river dried, thirst tightening its grip on both sides 💧.
By Kratika Saxenaabout a year ago in Fiction
