Fan Fiction
[Theater Reddit] Update: The Vanishing Guest
Didn’t think I’d be posting again, but something happened last night that I can’t shake. For the past week, the register’s been quiet — no tickets, no midnight receipts. I figured whatever glitch was happening finally stopped. I even joked with the janitor that our “ghost customer” must’ve found a better theater.
By V-Ink Stories2 months ago in Fiction
Where the Streets Turn Into Freedom
The sun had just begun its slow climb over the skyline, spilling gold across the tops of buildings and washing the long avenue in a warm, gentle glow. It was the kind of morning that felt almost unreal—too calm, too open, too perfect for a city known for noise, rush, and endless motion. But for one morning each week, everything changed. Cars disappeared. Horns went silent. And the streets became something else entirely.
By Hanif Ullah 2 months ago in Fiction
The Golden Bloom
For as long as anyone in the small town of Oakhaven could remember, the Harvest Festival float competition had been a cold war between two factions. On one side was Liam, the artistic, free-spirited owner of the local pottery studio. His floats were bursts of whimsical beauty, all flowing lines and abstract shapes that critics called "ahead of their time" and others called "a bit much."
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
Dial 999 for Your Future Self
Dial 999 for Your Future Self By Hasnain Shah It started with a sticker on the inside of a bus shelter. The kind you usually ignore—cheap print, curled edges, probably someone’s attempt to advertise miracle weight-loss pills or forbidden streaming sites. But this one caught my eye because it said only four words:
By Hasnain Shah2 months ago in Fiction
The Room That Remembered Me
The Room That Remembered Me The house had been silent for so long that even my footsteps felt wrong, like I was waking something that had been asleep for years. Dust curled around my ankles as I walked the narrow hallway, past doors that opened easily, past rooms that had learned to live without attention. One door—that door—waited at the end, holding its breath the same way I had for two decades.
By Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Fiction
The Letters He Never Sent. AI-Generated.
Samuel Graves had not opened the study room in three years. Dust blanketed the shelves like tired snow; the curtains remained frozen in place, trapping darkness inside the walls. The house itself seemed to breathe differently when he stood at the doorway — as if recognizing him with a mixture of relief and sorrow.
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Fiction
The Last Song in the Snow. AI-Generated.
Anton Markovic was known only by the sound of his violin. He played every evening at the frozen train station under the city bridge, where footsteps echoed like ghosts and the cold bit the bones of anyone foolish enough to linger.
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Fiction
Cold Cuts: Chapter 1. Content Warning.
"Faith!" I called for my friend from the other room in the suite we were in. I needed her to tie up my dress and to see when she would be ready. We were both famous for being fashionably late, but we really needed to get to this venue on time tonight.
By scaldingblktea 2 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Sold Tomorrow. AI-Generated.
Gregor Vale had always believed time was not a river, but a marketplace. In the back corner of an old European alley, behind fogged glass and a tarnished brass sign, stood his tiny workshop — Vale & Sons: Custom Clocks Since 1882.
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Fiction
