Fable
NOT ALL HOMES WELCOME YOU. Content Warning.
My friend Mr. Sinha had always believed in logic. A retired forest officer with a stern face and a steady voice, he laughed off the idea of ghosts and curses. When he bought a sprawling but decaying zamindar house in a remote Bengal village, he felt like he had found peace at last.
By Isabella Wood7 months ago in Fiction
The House That Waited
The House That Waited It had been thirty years since Evelyn had last stepped foot on the porch of the house on Windmere Lane. The gravel crunched beneath her boots the same way it had when she was nine years old, clutching her father’s hand as they left in the dead of night. She’d always believed the memory was distorted by fear and sleep, but now, as her fingers brushed the flaking paint of the porch railing, she realized—some memories didn’t fade. They only waited.
By waseem khan7 months ago in Fiction
Cat Nights Are Coming
Introduction Cat Nights begin on August 17. This term harks back to the days when people believed in witches. A rather obscure old Irish legend said that a witch could turn herself into a cat eight times, but on the ninth time (August 17), she couldn’t regain her human form. This bit of folklore also gives us the saying, “A cat has nine lives.” Because August is a yowly time for cats, this may have prompted the speculation about witches on the prowl in the first place. Also, nights continue to get longer. Cats, crepuscular creatures, are nocturnal hunters. Their superior night vision means that the nights belong to them.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 7 months ago in Fiction
She Disappeared from Our School Overnight and No One Talks About It
You think stories like that are made up. I wish I could tell you mine. Her name was Lila Harper. We weren’t best friends or anything. But she sat right next to me in English class, third period, by the window. She always wore matching socks, doodled in the margins of her notebook, and hummed softly when the teacher wasn’t looking.
By Echoes of Life7 months ago in Fiction
I Was Reborn in Flames but Never Left the Fire
Let Me Tell You a Story You’ll Never Forget I was born for the third time on a night of red skies and black screams. In my village, we do not fear death. We expect it. Welcome it, even. Because here, death is never the end. We are reborn through fire every hundred years. It's our curse. Or blessing. It depends on who you ask.
By Isabella Wood7 months ago in Fiction
Her Voice Note at 2AM
Story: It was exactly 2:07 AM when Hadi’s phone buzzed on the nightstand beside his bed. He blinked awake, squinting at the bright screen. Maybe another food discount message or a pointless app notification. But what popped up made his breath catch:
By Aman Ullah7 months ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Tide: A Story Told in Shells
At first glance, the image is simple—serene, even. A ceramic bowl, resting gently on the damp sand, cradles an exquisite collection of seashells. They sit nestled together like quiet thoughts, each one shaped by time and tide. Beyond this peaceful arrangement, the shoreline stretches toward a glowing horizon, golden with the touch of evening light. A lighthouse stands distant and steady, a silent witness to the sea’s ever-shifting moods.
By Fazal Malik7 months ago in Fiction
Underwater Cities Don’t Have Traffic Jams
I once read a silly-sounding line in a science magazine: “Underwater cities don’t have traffic jams.” It was part of a speculative piece about futuristic civilizations—utopias under the sea with clear domes, no air pollution, and no honking horns. At the time, I laughed. But strangely, that line stuck with me.
By Fazal Hadi7 months ago in Fiction
The Unseen Language: A Novel of Love Beyond Words
(Prologue: The Weight of Words Unspoken) The city breathed its usual cacophony – the bass thump from a passing car vibrating through the soles of worn trainers, the staccato rhythm of high heels on pavement, the fragmented symphony of overlapping conversations drifting from cafe terraces. Elara Vance moved through it like a ghost, insulated by her headphones and the invisible, yet palpable, wall she carried within. At twenty-eight, she felt profoundly alone amidst the millions. Her world was one of meticulously curated silence, a self-imposed exile born from the shattering echoes of words once trusted, promises that turned to dust in her hands.
By Muhammad Abbas khan7 months ago in Fiction
Digital Ghosts: How AI is Changing the Way We Grieve
Introduction: When Grief Meets Code In an age where artificial intelligence is integrated into every facet of human life—from personalized shopping recommendations to autonomous vehicles—it was only a matter of time before it began to shape the most intimate parts of our experience: love, loss, and mourning. We now live in a world where grieving doesn't necessarily end with a final goodbye. AI-powered "digital ghosts" of loved ones are giving people a way to continue relationships that should have ended with death.
By Muhammad Abbas khan7 months ago in Fiction
The Ghost Yacht: Curse of the Salt-Mummified Sailor
Opening Hook: "Fishermen called it ‘The White Ghost’ – a yacht adrift off Mindanao, its decks silent as a tomb. Inside, they found Captain Manfred frozen at his radio, hand clutching his heart, skin turned to salt-cured leather. His last words still hissed through static: ‘They’re coming...’"
By Ahmed Abdeen7 months ago in Fiction
