Young Adult
The Cog-Boy of Aethel. AI-Generated.
The streets of Aethel's older districts were a maze of copper pipes and crystalline conduits, perfect for an automaton trying to avoid detection. Cogsworth had disabled his external lights and muffled his mechanical sounds as much as possible, moving through the shadows like a ghost of brass and gears.
By Shane D. Spearabout a year ago in Fiction
The Day My Reflection Talked Back. AI-Generated.
The Day My Reflection Talked Back The bathroom mirror was fogged from the shower, yet I lingered in front of it, tracing meaningless circles in the condensation. I wasn’t really looking at myself—just at the blurred outline of someone who looked like me, someone who had lately felt like a stranger.
By Rashid khanabout a year ago in Fiction
Lisa’s Birthday Wish
Lisa sat on the edge of the narrow twin bed, her children bundled beneath a single quilt. Ciara, five years old and already fiercely protective of her younger siblings, clung to Lisa’s arm even in sleep. Liam lay sprawled on his stomach, one chubby hand gripping the battered toy car he carried everywhere. Marie, the baby of the family, was curled against Lisa’s hip, her tiny fingers still sticky from the crackers they’d shared for dinner.
By Rebecca Daughertyabout a year ago in Fiction
The Secrets My Mother Kept
The Morning Light August 19, 2005 The beach stretched endlessly in both directions, a ribbon of silver sand unmarked by footprints or debris. It was that liminal hour just before dawn when the world held its breath, suspended between night and day. The lighthouse at the far end of the bay had already stopped its rotation, leaving only the faintest echo of its beam painting ghosts across the water.
By Parsley Rose about a year ago in Fiction
The Cog-Boy of Aethel. AI-Generated.
Three days later, Cogsworth made his decision. He left the Academy during the lunch period, slipping away while Sarah Chen was distracted by a complex alchemical equation. His brass-shod feet carried him through Aethel's winding streets with mechanical certainty, even as his decision circuits churned with uncertainty.
By Shane D. Spearabout a year ago in Fiction
Final Delivery
The glow of the dashboard clock read 11:47 PM as Jason steered his beat-up sedan down a lonely, tree-lined road. He hated late-night shifts, especially in this part of town, where the houses were spaced far apart and the streetlights flickered ominously. Still, it was a job, and tonight’s order was his last delivery before clocking out.
By V-Ink Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
Pizza From The Void
The clock on Jason’s dashboard flickered, the LED digits shifting erratically between 11:59 PM and 12:00 AM. It was late, and this last delivery didn’t even make sense. The order had come in through a glitchy phone call, the voice on the other end crackling like static, reciting an address that didn’t appear on any map.
By V-Ink Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
One Slice Short
It was Jason’s third week on the job at Hot & Fresh Pizza, and he was already running on fumes. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it paid the bills. He was on his final delivery of the night—a house at the edge of town, nestled deep in a forest. The customer, listed as Ms. Eliza Morrell, had left an unusually specific note:
By V-Ink Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
Delivery After Midnight
Jason leaned against the counter of Midtown Pizza, scrolling through his phone. It was 11:55 PM, and the kitchen was winding down for the night. The “No Deliveries After Midnight” sign hung prominently above the register. Everyone knew the rule—unspoken but sacred. No one asked why, but no one dared to break it.
By V-Ink Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
No Escape Route
Jason tightened his grip on the steering wheel as the GPS directed him farther into the woods. The glowing screen read “3 miles to destination”, but the road ahead was little more than a dirt trail, uneven and lined with gnarled, overhanging branches.
By V-Ink Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
