An emerald known as The Serpent’s Eye was said to contain voices. Every owner reported hearing faint murmurs when they slept.
By GoldenSpeech3 months ago in Chapters
In Victorian London, a man named Mr. Dorran offered “grief photography.” He claimed his camera could capture the moment a spirit left the body.
A century-old vessel drifted endlessly along the Baltic Sea. It had no crew, no flag, and no anchor. Yet its lights were always on.
In Madrid, a painter gained fame for portraits that looked alive — not from realism, but from what they hid. He drew not people, but their shadows. Each painting flickered faintly, as if something behind the canvas moved.
Every full moon, the people of Andel hid indoors. Windows shuttered, mirrors covered. Because when moonlight touched skin, it didn’t reflect — it remembered.
I woke beneath a violet sky, where two suns bled into the horizon— a world neither born nor dying, but waiting. They told me what I sought was gone:
By Takashi Nagaya3 months ago in Chapters
It wasn’t a doorway. It was a stitch coming undone.
A seamstress in Lisbon found a tear in her attic wall. Not a crack — a clean, threadlike rip. When she tugged it gently, it widened, showing glimpses of another world.
Every decade, when thunder rolled over the Appalachian hills, an entire carnival appeared in the rain. Rides spun, lights flashed, and laughter echoed through the mist.
Dr. Emory Vale spent his life mapping constellations that didn’t exist. He claimed they appeared only when people dreamed.
A deaf artist named Clara created portraits that felt alive — so lifelike people claimed to hear faint whispers from the canvas.
In a barren desert stood a rusted lighthouse — hundreds of miles from the nearest coast. It flickered every night at precisely 3:17 a.m.
