thriller
Dreamwalker Protocol. Content Warning.
As he lay motionless on the leather recliner I had invested in to offer my clients more than the usual comfort, I prepared myself. It was never easy walking through another's dreams, no matter how many decades I had been a practitioner of this so-called dark art. I always had a generous two thumbs, forget the fingers, of 10-year Islay whisky to settle my heart and lungs. Then I could begin. As long as I had my subject at the forefront of my mind, it was straightforward in principle. In practice it was like a bad fucking trip. Having this session monitored and streamed online made it even trickier.
By Paul Stewart5 months ago in Fiction
The Devil's Kiss 1
It all begins with a crime. At Marion's birth, her twin sister is declared dead. In reality, Mariona is delivered to the Lodge to become a "ghost" without a civil existence. In these shadow camps, she is nothing but simple laboratory livestock, anonymous flesh used as a breeder for the lodge's rituals, before being shaped to become their most lethal weapon.
By CECILE HEBELLE5 months ago in Fiction
The Box That Bleeds
I didn’t think much of it when they loaded the package. Heavy, sure—but we get those all the time. Industrial parts, machinery, weird custom orders. The label said PRIORITY – DO NOT DELAY, stamped three times in red like someone wanted to make absolutely sure it got noticed.
By V-Ink Stories5 months ago in Fiction
The Couple Who Became One
Marcus knew she was watching him before he ever saw her. It began with the small things. A coffee left on the hood of his car at 6:45 in the morning, exactly the way he used to drink it when they were together—two sugars, no cream. A folded receipt tucked beneath his windshield wiper from the diner they once called “their place.” A song was playing from an unknown speaker somewhere outside his apartment window at midnight.
By V-Ink Stories5 months ago in Fiction
The Green Beer Made Everyone Sick
The house was too big for a high school party. Three floors. Marble counters. A backyard that stretched into darkness. It belonged to Ryan Kessler, star quarterback, golden boy, the kind of guy whose parents were always “out of town.”
By V-Ink Stories5 months ago in Fiction
Messages From the Future
Every message came one day before something terrible happened. At exactly 11:47 PM, Noah’s phone vibrated on the bedside table. Half asleep, he grabbed it and squinted at the screen. A message from an unknown number stared back at him. > Don’t take the train tomorrow. Noah frowned. For a moment, he simply stared at the words, confused. Then he laughed quietly to himself. Probably another stupid prank. He typed back anyway. > Who is this? No answer came. After waiting a minute, he tossed the phone aside and went back to sleep. The next morning, the message barely crossed his mind. The subway station was packed like always. People rushed past each other while rain hammered the streets outside. Noah stood near the edge of the platform, headphones in, scrolling through his phone. Then chaos erupted. A horrible screech echoed through the tunnel. People screamed. The incoming train suddenly jerked sideways before slamming off the tracks. Sparks exploded into the air as metal crushed against concrete. Smoke filled the station within seconds. Noah stumbled backward in shock. His heart pounded violently as he realized something terrifying. If he had stepped forward just a little earlier, he would’ve been standing exactly where the train crashed. That night, he read the message again. And again. And again. --- The second text arrived the following evening. > Don’t let Emma drive home tonight. This time, Noah’s stomach tightened instantly. Emma was his younger sister. He called her without hesitation. “Why are you calling me this late?” she laughed when she answered. “Where are you?” “At Maya’s party.” “Are you drinking?” “A little.” “Emma, listen to me carefully. Don’t drive home tonight.” There was a pause. “You okay?” she asked. “You sound weird.” “Please. Just stay at a friend’s place.” Something in his voice must’ve scared her because she finally agreed. At 2 AM, Noah woke to nonstop notifications on his phone. A drunk driver had caused a massive accident on the highway Emma usually took home. Three people died. Noah sat frozen in bed, staring at the screen while cold fear crawled through his chest. This wasn’t coincidence anymore. Someone was warning him before disasters happened. --- The messages kept coming over the next few weeks. > Avoid the coffee shop on 8th Street tomorrow morning. A gas explosion destroyed it the next day. > Don’t go to work Friday. An electrical fire spread through his office building that afternoon. Each warning saved him. But every message terrified him more. Whoever was texting him knew things before they happened. And Noah was starting to feel like he was losing his mind. --- One night, unable to take it anymore, he finally asked the question that had been haunting him. > Who are you? For the first time, the reply came instantly. > You. Noah stared at the screen. His throat went dry. > What kind of joke is this? The typing bubble appeared again. > I’m you. One year from now. Noah nearly dropped the phone. His breathing became uneven as another message appeared. > I don’t have much time. He sat there in silence, trying to convince himself this had to be fake. But deep down, he already knew it wasn’t. No prank could predict disasters like this. --- Over the next few days, the messages became longer. Future Noah explained that one year later, scientists created technology capable of sending information back through time. At first, it was meant to change the world forever. Then everything went wrong. A disaster destroyed most of the city. Millions died. And somehow, future Noah survived long enough to contact his past self. > I’m trying to stop it before it happens. Noah’s hands trembled as he typed. > Stop what? The answer came seconds later. > Her. --- The next message included an address. An abandoned laboratory outside the city. Noah spent hours debating whether he should go. Every instinct told him this was dangerous. But curiosity finally won. Rain poured heavily the night he arrived. The laboratory looked abandoned for years. Broken windows rattled in the wind while flickering lights glowed faintly inside. Noah stepped carefully through the dark hallway. Then he heard footsteps. A woman emerged from the shadows. She looked exhausted. Pale. Terrified. But Noah recognized her immediately from the news. Dr. Evelyn Cross. The scientist responsible for the time communication experiment. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said quietly. “My future self sent me.” The color disappeared from her face. “You’ve already been receiving the messages?” Noah nodded slowly. Evelyn looked genuinely frightened now. “You need to listen carefully,” she whispered. “The future version of you can’t be trusted.” Noah frowned. “What are you talking about?” Before she could answer, every monitor in the laboratory suddenly flickered on at once. Static filled the room. Then words appeared across the screens. > DON’T TRUST HER. Noah stepped backward in shock. Evelyn’s breathing became panicked. “You don’t understand!” she shouted. “Something happened to him after the experiment!” The lights burst overhead. Darkness swallowed the room. Noah’s phone vibrated in his pocket. One final message appeared on the screen. > She caused the end of everything. Stop her before midnight. Noah slowly looked up. Evelyn reached behind her back. And pulled out a gun. Outside, thunder shook the city. Inside the ruined laboratory, Noah realized the horrifying truth. One of them was lying. His future self. Or the woman standing in front of him. And whichever one he chose to believe… Would decide the fate of the entire world.
By M Uzair Khan (UK)5 months ago in Fiction
Mercy on Maple Street. Top Story - May 2026.
This was now the fifth night I felt it. That tinge in the air. The unmistakable feeling of being watched. Every night for three months, I had no choice but to walk home. That's how long it'd been since Dax left. Three whole months. And now, he was enjoying the college experience while I was still stuck in this shit town delivering waffles and mediocre coffee to bigoted customers.
By SUEDE the poet5 months ago in Fiction
The Last Train to Willowbrook. AI-Generated.
Elara Voss tightened her coat against the November wind slicing through King’s Cross station. The 23:47 to Willowbrook was never busy, but tonight the platform felt unnaturally empty. Only the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like dying insects. She checked her phone again—no signal, no messages from her sister. Just the same unanswered text: I’m coming. Don’t do anything stupid.
By Waleed khan5 months ago in Fiction
