Fan Fiction
🌙 I Want the Best for You
There are moments in life that glide in so quietly you barely notice them at first. Then one day you turn around and realize they’ve rearranged the entire architecture of your heart. That was you for me. You slipped into my world without fireworks or grand entrances, just this steady presence that felt like a warm chair pulled up close in winter. And maybe that’s why it took me so long to recognize what was happening. You never demanded attention. You simply held it.
By Karl Jackson2 months ago in Fiction
The four walls changing of time
The marred door is heavily made of wood. A handle smooth made of opal and cold to the touch. I look at this door full of grace in wonderment and without ease. I slowly grab the handle, feeling the smoothness, looking at the changing colors with astonishment. I turn the colors while I look at the flaws of the door. The door has cracks and pictures marred in the dark oak wooden frame. Opening the door wide I feel anxious in the pit of my belly at what I will find. I see four walls full of moving scenes. On the floor are beautifully done ceramic tiles. I walk in to investigate loving the clicking of my heels on the tile, a beat to my destination of the room.
By Tabitha Hinkley2 months ago in Fiction
SEASON 8 - Whispers from the Lantern: The Keeper's Lament
Chapter 15 The silence was a palpable thing, a heavy blanket that settled over the entire coast. Aris and his team stood in the now-calm lantern room, a profound sense of exhaustion washing over them. The Keeper was gone. The drowned were gone. The mournful lament was gone.
By Tales That Breathe at Night2 months ago in Fiction
THE BUTTON THAT REMEMBERS
But Lena loved it because it was his. Felix, who saw the world in pastels and spoke in poems, had worn it every day until he didn't. When he was gone, Lena kept it folded perfectly in the cedar chest. Six months later, folding laundry, she noticed a tiny detail she’d missed: one of the silver buttons on the left sleeve was loose. She picked up a needle and thread, threading it carefully. As the needle passed through the final stitch, a warmth bloomed beneath her thumb. The silver button pulsed with a faint, deep-blue light. When the glow faded, a memory rushed into her mind, sudden and vivid: Felix, laughing in the rain, pulling her close under a single umbrella. Lena gasped. She touched another button, the one on the collar. The blue light returned, brighter this time. A second memory: The morning they moved in together, painting the kitchen wall a disastrous shade of yellow. She realized these weren't just buttons. They were anchors, tiny repositories of their shared joy, somehow holding the residue of his love. Every button held a different, perfect moment—a first kiss, a silly fight, a quiet night on the porch swing. Lena didn't need the whole jacket, or the chest, or the memories from the future they wouldn't have. She just needed these small, silver keepsakes. Every night, she would touch one button before bed, watching the blue light flicker, experiencing one perfect minute of him all over again. Grief was still heavy, but now, it was lit by tiny, electric stars.
By Awa Nyassi2 months ago in Fiction
The Forgotten Room
[By mazkaz] 1. The Old House on Willow Street Ayaan had not returned to Willow Street for almost twelve years. Life had carried him far away—toward college, work, and the noise of a busy city—but the silence of his childhood home continued to echo inside him. When his mother passed away, the house became a shadow he didn’t want to face. And now that his father was gone too, the house waited for him like an unanswered letter.
By Muzzakir Khan2 months ago in Fiction
The Room at the End of the Hall
(A son returns home after five years to open the room his father left behind. The door was closed out of grief, but what he discovers inside changes the way he sees love, loss, and family. This emotional story explores how memories can stay frozen in time, waiting for the courage to be unlocked again.)
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Fiction
The Argument of Elements
The Almanac of Greenhaven Farm didn’t just predict the weather; it held court with it. For generations, the Rowan family had followed its cryptic, poetic advice. Its pages, penned by long-gone hands, said things like, “Sow the south field when the willow weeps gold,” or “A quarrel is coming when the crows fly backwards.” The weather it described was less a system and more a living, temperamental entity.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
True Peace for Soldiers
Old white men, they were, their bodies a rolling landscape of skin pulled tight and fallen loose. Pockmarked with moles and freckles, splotches of red, white, blue, and green, colors and shapes that hide behind the skin and fat of younger men. When they smiled, their eyes would become lost in the wrinkles and cracks of their brow.
By Devang Vashistha2 months ago in Fiction
The Friend I Tried (and Failed) to Hide 🌑🕊️
I’ve always lived my life like it came with instruction manuals. I follow rules, I read labels, I sort my socks by color. If you’d asked my family to describe me, they would’ve said words like dependable and organized and maybe just a little too predictable.
By Karl Jackson2 months ago in Fiction
