Short Story

Cam's Castle
Cam was just waking up from a cat nap when he heard his mom cry out “Cam, Hoot is here! And he has… something.” Cam bounded out of his room, excited to see what it was.
By Buck Hardcastle2 years ago in Fiction
A Mild Attack of Locusts
"Look, look, there they are!" Out ran Margaret to join them, looking at the hills. Out came the servants from the kitchen. They all stood as a streak of ruse rocky levels, Lothe s. There they cstreak of rust coloured air, Locusts. There they came.
By Tyler Marquis 2 years ago in Fiction
The Dream Weaver
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting an eerie glow over the cluttered sneaker store. Alex, a young, aspiring designer, was lost in a mundane routine, his mind wandering. A peculiar dream, a vivid vision of a futuristic sneaker, had ignited a spark within him. The design was audacious: a solar-powered upper, a spaceship motif, and a pulsating, customizable sole.
By Sunkrith Amerineni2 years ago in Fiction
Whispers in the Woods. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dense forest that surrounded the small, isolated town of Hollow Creek. It was the kind of place where neighbors waved from porches and children played in the dirt roads, but as dusk settled in, it took on an eerie calm. Samantha had grown up in Hollow Creek, but the woods haunted her. As a child, she’d heard whispers from the trees, hushed conversations that drifted on the wind. Her mother had dismissed them as her imagination, but Samantha knew better. The townsfolk spoke of the forest in hushed tones—stories of those who had wandered too deep and never returned. Now, as an adult, she found herself drawn back to the very place that filled her with dread. On this particular evening, with a full moon rising, Samantha felt an inexplicable urge to walk the well-worn path that led into the heart of the woods. She grabbed her flashlight and stepped outside, the cool air brushing against her skin. The forest loomed ahead, dark and inviting, yet somehow foreboding. With each step, the sounds of the town faded, leaving only the rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. The path twisted and turned, and Samantha found herself reminiscing about childhood adventures, but the nostalgia was tinged with an unsettling feeling. As she ventured deeper into the woods, the whispers began anew—not in her imagination, but real, surrounding her, weaving through the branches. "Come closer," they beckoned, soft yet insistent. Samantha froze, her heart racing. She strained to listen, but the words were indistinct, like the static of an old radio. She had heard these whispers before; they had always frightened her. But tonight, she felt an inexplicable connection to them. “Is anyone there?” she called, her voice trembling. Silence enveloped her, then a soft rustle came from the underbrush. The flashlight flickered, casting erratic beams of light across the trees. She turned, aiming the beam into the darkness, but there was nothing there—only shadows that played tricks on her mind. “Stay on the path,” she whispered to herself, the warning echoing in her head. But curiosity tugged at her, urging her to follow the whispers. They grew louder, more distinct, promising secrets and revelations buried within the woods. Ignoring her better judgment, Samantha stepped off the path, pushing through the thickets. The trees closed in around her, their gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal hands. The whispers grew urgent now, rising to a crescendo that sent shivers down her spine. “Help us! Help us!” Her pulse quickened as she stumbled forward, the flashlight beam revealing something glimmering on the ground. It was a locket, half-buried in the dirt, its surface tarnished but still beautiful. She knelt to pick it up, and the moment her fingers brushed against it, a gust of wind swept through the trees, and the whispers turned to screams. “Help us! Save us!” Heart racing, Samantha clutched the locket, her mind racing with thoughts of those who had vanished into these woods over the years. She turned, ready to run back to the path, but the trees had shifted. The familiar route was gone, replaced by an unfamiliar maze of trunks and shadows that twisted in impossible ways. “Join us…” a voice hissed, low and menacing. Panic surged through her as the realization hit: she was lost. She turned to run, but the ground seemed to shift beneath her feet, roots twisting and tangling around her ankles, pulling her down. The locket fell from her grasp, clattering against the stones. “No! Please!” she screamed, struggling against the roots that tightened around her. She could hear laughter now, high-pitched and mocking, echoing through the woods. As her grip on sanity slipped, the trees seemed to come alive, their bark shifting, faces forming in the twisted limbs, eyes glaring down at her. Memories flooded back—stories of those who didn’t heed the warnings, who ventured too far and became one with the forest. The laughter grew louder, an echo of those lost souls. “Help us!” they cried, their voices merging into a cacophony. “Join us! Forever!” With a surge of adrenaline, Samantha fought against the grasping roots. She could see the path ahead, faintly illuminated by the moonlight. Summoning her strength, she tore herself free and bolted toward the light. The forest seemed to writhe in anger as she sprinted, branches clawing at her clothes, trying to drag her back. She broke through the underbrush and stumbled onto the path, gasping for breath, her heart pounding in her chest. But the whispers followed her, trailing behind like a dark cloud. “You can’t escape. You can’t forget us,” they taunted, fading into the night. Samantha didn’t stop running until she reached the edge of Hollow Creek, the warmth of the streetlights comforting against the chill of the night. She turned back to look at the woods, shrouded in darkness. The trees stood silent now, but she felt their wa
By ba bi2 years ago in Fiction
More Mischief
In that moment between sleeping and waking, there are two ways of being. Either all is well in the world, or something is wrong. You can feel it when you've overslept, or when Someone is in the house.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
Hideout
“They’ll never find us here.” I looked down at the child by my side. Poor kid was exhausted, hungry, and scared, but she was doing her best not to show it. She sighed, and blinked back what looked suspiciously like tears. Then, with an effort I could see, she straightened her back, dug deep, and hitched a smile onto her face.
By Laura DePace2 years ago in Fiction
The Whispering Council. AI-Generated.
The Whispering Council Brookmoor was, in its time, secrets clutched to the air like morning mist. But a newly elected mayor by the name of Eleanor Vance believed she could break that spell. Her campaign motto—"Truth. Transparency. Trust."—had resonated with the people who were tired of the shadow-dealing and the whispers. However, change is a very dangerous ambition, Eleanor will soon learn.
By Tridib Borah2 years ago in Fiction
The Benefits of Regular Exercise for Mental Health
People are told it's good to exercise because it boosts physical health but its effects on mental health are just as great. Simple things like exercising increase moods and lessen stress besides helping in boosting one’s ability to think.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharing2 years ago in Fiction
Shattered Shadows. Content Warning.
I was heartbroken, scared, I had a lot of anxiety, I was worried, I felt weak, and had no idea how I was ever going to come up with the strength. But I just closed my eyes and took a blind leap. I knew I had to get out of there."
By Jennifer Onyemobi 2 years ago in Fiction
The Song of the Sea
Long ago, in a small fishing village nestled by the ocean, there was a legend passed down through generations. It was the tale of a mermaid named Adanna, who was said to live in the depths of the ocean, her beauty unparalleled, and her voice so sweet that even the sea itself would grow calm to listen.
By Jennifer Onyemobi 2 years ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker's Secret: Time Lost and Found
In the small town of Eldridge, nestled between rolling hills and dense forests, there was a quaint shop that seemed to exist outside the bounds of time. The shop’s weathered sign read Ephraim’s Clockworks, and its owner, Ephraim Garrick, was as enigmatic as the ticking treasures he crafted. For as long as anyone could remember, Ephraim had been repairing and creating clocks of every kind, from ornate grandfather clocks to delicate pocket watches. Yet, his most captivating creation was a large, mysterious clock that stood at the back of his shop, draped under a velvet cloth.
By Author kelechi2 years ago in Fiction
The Devil's Revenge
Damon Turley sat behind his desk. He had just finished working a very long day and was now ready to relax. He walked over to his bar, dropped a couple of ice cubes into a glass and pulled a bottle of Jameson Irish whiskey from the shelf. He poured himself a generous amount and walked across his office to a bank of large windows overlooking the city. The night view was fantastic from his 60th floor vantage point.
By Scott A. Gese2 years ago in Fiction