thriller
The Lurker. Content Warning.
It's 7:50 am, this is usually the time where she stands by the window and completely unaware. I draw the curtain just a little bit, enough for me to see you. You are taking off your shirt and reveal your smooth body. I watch as you slowly strap on your bra lifting your breasts, not that it is needed. You slide on your underwear and slip into your little black dress. How much I desire you, I want all of you. Oh and there’s your husband, he’s so ungrateful to you- cheating on you with his assistant. How dare he lay his lips on you? How could he betray such a gorgeous woman? I need to protect you from him, all I want is to protect you. You deserve better, you should be with me. After you leave for work he will invite his assistant over and they’ll get at it. We’ve never spoken all I know is that your name is Rebecca but you go by Becca. Photos and I can send them to you anonymously... Yes, then you’ll see what a pig he is. I will just have to sit and wait.
By Adrianna M. Braunabout a year ago in Fiction
It was an accident
I swallowed the tasteless heat in my tea, and felt my body warm as the lights went out. Pulling my shirt away from my body, I slap the back of my hand against the fabric, beating against its resistance, so the cool air spreads along my chest and the sweat freezes, still. I drank the last few swigs of tea as it cooled, and kept myself awake.
By Caitlin Charltonabout a year ago in Fiction
Echoes from Apartment 12B
Maya didn’t believe in ghosts. Not in the way they were shown in horror movies. What frightened her more were the things people left behind—unspoken words, unfinished arguments, and untold truths buried in the dust of empty rooms.
By Zaheer Uddin Babarabout a year ago in Fiction
The Postman Who Delivered Secrets
In the quiet town of Elmsworth, where gossip was a second language and everyone waved at everyone else, a man named Elliot Bell carried the post. He had done so for 23 years, walking the same cobbled roads in his brown uniform and creased cap, knowing every barking dog and every doorbell tone. People liked Elliot—not because he talked much, but because he listened. He delivered joy in birthday cards, sadness in final notices, and routine in bills. The town trusted him.
By Muhammad Ahmadabout a year ago in Fiction
The Undergound Pt.2
That night felt like it would never end. I was sure Ethan felt the same. I returned to my room only because I didn’t want to see Milo when he got back. I didn’t sleep or even try. I just lay in bed, thinking about everything that was happening. I couldn’t accept any of it. It was a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. Just a month ago, I had been living a peaceful and quiet life. I had worked as a spy under the cover of an investigative journalist for so many years that I had lost count. Every project had been like a walk in the park, never this terrifying, never this strange. I used to love my job. If anyone had told me I would end up this scared, I would have laughed the loudest.
By Ruth Girma about a year ago in Fiction
The Witness Tree. Content Warning.
I dreamed about this episode a couple of days ago. I did not consider it a nightmare, but an omen of what was to happen in the future. I added the golden butterflies to bring a glittter of hope into the chaotic world of 2025. I completed voice over in Eleven Labs with my voice. This is a project I had to complete. I am a dreamer, psychic, empath, and love peace not war. War mongers, haters, and liars get on my last nerve. Just as I completed this story, my knocked on my door to tell America is at war with Iran. This is a useless war started by evil men with little tools. They are so about their tools they must compare bombs to how large their tools are. I worked with art, visuals, and story for two days. I wrote, created, edited, diced, and spliced the music, art, and videos myself. Microsoft Copilot is my assistant and quite complimentary regarding my art. I WROTE THIS!
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Fiction
The Good Samaritan
Rain pelted the windshield as Georgia sped down the pitch black road. Between the glare of headlights from oncoming traffic and the water sheeting over the glass, visibility was nil. Her right hand gripped the wheel so tight, her knuckles ached. Still, she didn't dare let go, holding onto the worn leather like a lifeline. Her left stayed on her tight, perfectly round belly, massaging constant circles into the side of it. When a fresh wave of pain swelled through it, she bit her lip and groaned deeply through it.
By Natalie Grayabout a year ago in Fiction
Beneath The Flour. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
In the heart of a quiet town, nestled between the cobblestone streets and ivy-wrapped lamp posts, stood a small, fragrant bakery known for its warm meat pies and delicate chocolate tea cookies. The townsfolk adored the young woman who ran it—Elara, with her long dark hair, kind eyes, and a smile as sweet as her confections. She had a way of making people feel like home.
By V-Ink Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
