Sudarsan

Joined February 2023

19 stories

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Here, you'll find tales woven with mystery, darkness, and pond poetic beauty.

Stories (19)

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A Girl in the Basement
When her family moved into the old house at the end of Waverly Street, the real estate agent had laughed off her concerns. "Creaks, cold air — that's just character!" he said. But Anna felt it the moment she crossed the threshold: the heavy, sour feeling clinging to the walls.
By Sudarsan9 months ago in Horror
Girl Who Spoke to Shadows. Content Warning.
It started on the third day of winter. Mira always thought shadows were silent. Until one whispered back. “You're late,” it said.
By Sudarsan9 months ago in Horror
Inside Out
Yo, your body’s a marvel, no need to pretend, It’s science in motion from start to the end. Behind every blink, every breath that you take, Physiology’s working—make no mistake!
By Sudarsan9 months ago in Fiction
The Mirror of Psyche
In a forgotten town, inside an ancient mansion, Sophie sat before an old, dust-covered mirror. She couldn't shake the feeling that something about the mirror was watching her, studying her every move. She wasn’t alone, though. David had come with her, though he seemed distant, preoccupied by the strange atmosphere of the mansion.
By Sudarsanabout a year ago in Psyche
Phantasmal
In the quiet town where shadows breathe, Where the moon’s cold light weaves, There stands an old, forgotten house, Its windows empty, like a dead man's mouth.
By Sudarsanabout a year ago in Poets
Echoes. Content Warning.
**The Hospital of Lingering Shadows** The hospital stood silent, forgotten by time. Its windows, now shattered, gazed out like dead eyes into the surrounding mist, where the trees bent unnaturally, as if bowing to some unseen terror. Rumors had spread for decades about the place—a facility once used for medical experiments long buried by history. No one entered the building willingly. Not anymore.
By Sudarsanabout a year ago in Horror
Alone with My Reflection
I stand before the mirror, gaze soft and slow, A reflection of myself I think I know. The features gentle, the lines so neat, A face that feels complete, sweet, and discreet. But the moment I turn to the camera’s stare, The calm shatters into sharp despair.
By Sudarsanabout a year ago in Poets
Mnemonic
The first thing I noticed was the coldness. I was lying on the floor, and the chill from the concrete seeped through my clothes, sending shivers up my spine. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog in my head. The room around me was dimly lit, casting long, eerie shadows on the walls. Panic surged through me as I realized I had no idea where I was—or worse, who I was.
By Sudarsanabout a year ago in Horror
Gorefest
In a town where shadows crawl and creep, Beneath the stars that seldom sleep, Lies a tale of hunger, deep and dark, A story sparked by a curious lark.
By Sudarsanabout a year ago in Horror
The Wreck of the Essex
On the chilly morning of November 20, 1820, the American whaling ship *Essex* sailed resolutely through the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean. Her wooden hull, stained with the salt of countless voyages, cut through the water as her crew prepared for another journey into the whaling grounds. The men aboard the *Essex* were seasoned sailors, hardened by years of battling the unforgiving sea. Among them were Captain George Pollard, a man of steady resolve, and First Mate Owen Chase, whose keen eyes and experience were relied upon by all.
By Sudarsanabout a year ago in History
Eldric Thornecroft
In a town forsaken by the sun’s embrace, Where shadows fell like a silken lace, There lived a girl with raven hair, Whose eyes reflected depths of despair.
By Sudarsanabout a year ago in Horror
Silent Transformation: The Unstoppable Shift of a Nation's Identity. AI-Generated.
Silent Transformation: The Unstoppable Shift of a Nation's Identity Imagine living in a country with a history as deep and rich as the soil beneath your feet, where every cobblestone street whispers tales of centuries past, and every monument stands as a testament to the struggles and triumphs of generations. This is a place where tradition is not merely a word but a way of life. A polite and respectable society, grounded in shared values, common language, and a collective memory that ties the people together in a fabric woven with threads of honor, duty, and pride.
By Sudarsanabout a year ago in Journal