SHAYAN

Joined June 2025

68 stories

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Stories (68)

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“The Memory House”
The Memory House By [shayan] The house hadn't changed, at least not on the outside. The paint still flaked like old sunburn, the porch still groaned under your step, and the wind still whispered through the cracks like it knew your name.
By SHAYAN6 months ago in BookClub
"The Way You Said Goodbye"
The Way You Said Goodbye You didn’t cry. That’s what I remember most. Not the words. Not the silence that followed them. Just the way you folded your hands and smiled as though you were smoothing over something fragile—a paper bird, maybe, or the final page of a letter no one would ever read.
By SHAYAN6 months ago in Chapters
The Will to Dream
The Will to Dream In the year 2045, the government had solved the problem of productivity—or so they claimed. Dreams, once free and wild, had become taxable commodities. Every night, when citizens closed their eyes, their dreams were monitored, recorded, and assessed for "creative value." Those with high-yield dreams earned Dream Credits; those whose dreams were deemed frivolous or rebellious faced steep penalties.
By SHAYAN6 months ago in Chapters
“The Whispering Walls”:
The Whispering Walls The Miller family was thrilled when they finally moved into the old Victorian house on Maple Street. It had been their dream home for years — spacious rooms, a sprawling garden, and an air of history that spoke to their love of old things. The realtor had mentioned the house had been empty for a while, but nothing about strange noises or unsettling history. At least, that’s what they thought.
By SHAYAN6 months ago in Fiction
“The Reflection’s Curse”
The Reflection’s Curse The old Victorian house had stood at the end of Willow Lane for over a century, its cracked windows like tired eyes watching the world pass by. The Brennans were its newest occupants—Ellen, her husband Mark, and their ten-year-old daughter, Lily. They’d been drawn to the house by its charm and the promise of a fresh start, but they quickly discovered it held secrets far darker than peeling wallpaper or creaky floorboards.
By SHAYAN6 months ago in Fiction
The Sound Beneath the Floorboards
The Sound Beneath the Floorboards It started three nights after she moved in. The apartment was older than it looked in the photos. The real estate agent had called it “vintage,” but Marla knew that was code for creaky pipes and forgotten ghosts. Still, the rent was cheap, the windows were big, and the radiator worked — most of the time.
By SHAYAN6 months ago in Horror
The Sixth Photo
The Sixth Photo by shayan We didn’t mean to take a disposable camera. It was a last-minute addition, grabbed from the dollar store at the edge of town. One of those decisions you don’t think about—“This could be fun,” Anna had said, holding it up like a trophy, “Something retro.”
By SHAYAN6 months ago in Fiction
"The Apartment Upstairs Was Never Rented"
The Apartment Upstairs Was Never Rented By Anonymous Submission I moved into the building on 19th and Hoyt in early November, the kind of cold month that sharpens the edges of everything—especially your nerves. The unit was affordable, almost too affordable for the area, and the landlord, Mr. Carroll, seemed more interested in pocketing the rent in cash than asking questions. That should have been my first red flag.
By SHAYAN7 months ago in Fiction