Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
How to Practice Magic Without Your Wizard Knowing
How to Practice Magic Without Your Wizard Knowing Crafting Your Wizard’s Schedule Knowledge is key! But just knowing is only part of managing your wizard’s schedule. As the apprentice, it is up to you to help create your wizard’s routine. How, you ask? An excellent question. Let me break it down for you. Beware though! Don’t try implementing all these schedule changes at once or your wizard will become suspicious. Slide them in one-by-one, slowly, with precision.
By J.C. Winter5 days ago in Fiction
Wounded enemy
The Deadly Snake That Wasn’t By: Zargham Raja It was a summer evening, around 7:30 PM, and darkness was slowly settling in. I had been driving for nearly three hours, with another nine to go on my long journey. I parked my car by the roadside to take a short break, stepped out, and sipped some water. The wind rustled through the dense trees lining the road, their branches swaying wildly in the evening breeze. Everything seemed calm—and then my eyes fell upon something that froze me in place.
By Sudais Zakwan5 days ago in Fiction
Desparate Attempts. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
The Failed Writer Aro was born into poverty. His father died young, leaving behind debts and a cracked house where rain leaked through the ceiling. His mother—frail, aging, and slowly losing herself to dementia—was all he had left.
By REalLLy2255 days ago in Fiction
The Dead Princess's Mercy. AI-Generated.
General Wei stared at the pool of black water beneath his feet. In its reflection, he didn’t see his own battle scared face, but the faces of the three thousand men he had burned alive at the Siege of Yan. Their skin was translucent and their mouths were stitched shut with what looked like rusted wire.
By Carolyn Patton5 days ago in Fiction
The Last Message I Never Sen
I typed the message three times before deleting it for good. Each version sounded wrong in a different way. Too dramatic. Too casual. Too late. I stared at the blinking cursor like it was waiting for me to say something brave, but all I could offer was silence.
By Salman Writes5 days ago in Fiction
The Chair by the Window
I didn’t realize how important the chair by the window was until no one sat in it anymore. It wasn’t a special chair. Just an old wooden one with a thin cushion that slid around when you stood up too fast. The paint had chipped near the legs, and one screw was always threatening to come loose. But every afternoon around four, my father would sit there, facing the street, cup of tea balanced carefully in his hand like it mattered.
By Salman Writes5 days ago in Fiction
