William Ebden.
Bio
I’m a storyteller at heart, weaving tales that explore emotion, mystery, and the human experience. My first story, blending honesty with imagination.
Stories (13)
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Robbers who?. AI-Generated.
It was late in the evening when four men gathered in a small apartment. The air smelled faintly of rain, and the streets outside were quiet. Inside, the room was lit by a single overhead light, and a table in the center was covered with papers, maps, and coffee cups. The men had been preparing for days, but tonight, everything would come together.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Fiction
Countdown. AI-Generated.
Part One: The Plan The city streets were quiet as the four men gathered in a cramped apartment above a laundromat. Outside, the hum of streetlights and distant traffic was the only sound. Inside, the table in the center was covered with maps, printed schedules, and diagrams of a large suburban house.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Fiction
The Heist that Never Happened. AI-Generated.
They said he was the best. Not in newspapers and not in small bars where criminals traded stories, but in the quiet circles that mattered. People whispered his name, and the whispers always followed him into every room. He liked that feeling. It gave him confidence when he sat alone with his map, pencil tapping, tracing possible routes the way someone might trace the outline of a lover.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Fiction
Bella Ciao.. AI-Generated.
The village of Monteverde slept at the foot of the mountains, wrapped in soft mist that drifted between the trees. It was early morning, a pale and gentle hour when the world had not yet decided to wake. Only one window glowed with light. Inside, a girl named Rosa stood at a small wooden table, tying her worn boots with slow and steady hands.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Fiction
Shadows of the City. AI-Generated.
The streets were wet from a light evening rain, the kind that made the neon lights shine brighter but also made the whole city feel colder and more empty. Ren walked slowly with his hands in his pockets, his coat collar pulled up against the mist hanging around the streetlamps. He didn’t know why he was wandering like this, only that something was pulling him forward. Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was guilt. Either way, his feet kept taking him deeper into alleys he didn’t remember ever walking through.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Fiction
Black Tape.. AI-Generated.
When I moved into the apartment, I thought it was a fresh start. Fresh paint, new floors, a little balcony that caught the afternoon sun just right. I unpacked my boxes slowly, half listening to music, half just enjoying the silence that wasn’t mine yet. That night, I couldn’t sleep. The mattress was stiff, the air felt different. I kept telling myself it was just new place nerves, but when I turned over and saw the faint outline of the window blinds on the ceiling, I felt eyes on me, though I was alone.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Horror
Lines of death.. AI-Generated.
It was a rainy Thursday when Haruto found it. The sky hung heavy and gray, the streets smelled of wet asphalt, and his shoes squelched with every step. On a park bench, half-hidden under a soaked newspaper, lay a black notebook. No title, nothing marking it as special, but something about it drew him in. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands, noticing the weight. He opened it and found blank pages except for a first page that contained rules. Rules that made little sense, at first, about writing names and consequences.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Fiction
The Silence on Hawthorne Street.. AI-Generated.
It was the kind of evening that made people lock their doors a little tighter. Rain had been falling steadily since morning, slicking the streets and coating the sidewalks in a reflective sheen. James Whitaker pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders and walked slowly down Hawthorne Street, the collar brushing the back of his neck. His footsteps echoed in the otherwise empty street, the sound swallowed almost instantly by the rhythm of raindrops hitting the pavement.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Fiction
The Crimson Horizon.. AI-Generated.
The wind tore at the sails, snapping them sharply, and the salt stung James Calder’s face as he leaned over the railing of the Sea Serpent. The waves rose and fell like restless giants, each one threatening to toss the ship into chaos. He tightened his grip and squinted at the horizon. Somewhere out there, hidden among the fog and endless water, lay the treasure that had driven men mad for centuries.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Fiction
Ashes of Tomorrow. AI-Generated.
Mara Whitman crouched behind a crumbling wall, the ash-coated wind stinging her face. The city, once alive and vibrant, now lay in twisted ruin. Rusted cars leaned into cracked sidewalks, and buildings rose like jagged scars against the gray sky. She pulled her jacket tighter, the fabric damp from mist that carried the faint, metallic scent of decay. The streets were eerily silent except for the occasional gust of wind that rattled broken windows and sent litter skittering across the pavement.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Fiction
Shadows on Ashwood Lane.. AI-Generated.
Detective Jonathan Hale parked his car at the edge of the cobblestone lane, the soft hum of the streetlamps reflecting off the wet asphalt. Rain had fallen intermittently, leaving puddles that shimmered under the dim lights. The old Miller estate loomed ahead, its windows dark and shuttered, yet the faint glow of police lanterns flickered through cracks in the boards. The house had been abandoned for years, its reputation whispered about in town, and now it had become a crime scene.
By William Ebden.2 months ago in Fiction
