Fan Fiction

Hollow Light
The town had never known true darkness. Streetlamps glowed softly at every corner, windows flickered with warmth, and even the river reflected light as if it were afraid to sleep. Yet, in the heart of the old district, there was one alley where lamps refused to shine. People avoided it. Children whispered stories of shadows that moved without bodies, and grown-ups simply crossed the street.
By syed4 months ago in Fiction
The Last Train at Midnight
M Mehran Ethan was the kind of man who always missed things by a minute. He missed the bus by a minute, the elevator by a minute, even his father’s last phone call by a minute. Life had taught him to live with regret like a second skin.
By Muhammad Mehran4 months ago in Fiction
The Painter of Memories
M Mehran Elena lived in a small town where life moved quietly, like the slow river that curved through its center. She worked at the post office, sorted letters, and stacked packages. To most, she was invisible, a pair of hands behind the counter. But at night, she painted.
By Muhammad Mehran4 months ago in Fiction
Hunger of the Stars
The night sky had always been beautiful to Jonas. A vast quilt of scattered lights, steady and eternal. But beauty often hides truth, and Jonas was the first to sense the change. It began subtly—stars seemed closer, brighter, hungrier. He told himself it was his imagination. He was wrong.
By syed4 months ago in Fiction
Keys Without Doors
Adrian found the first key on a rainy afternoon, glinting in the gutter like something misplaced by time. It was small, brass, unremarkable at first glance. Yet when he turned it over in his hand, it hummed faintly, as though aware of his touch. There was no lock in sight, no chest, no door. Just a key with nowhere to belong. He pocketed it, half amused, half unsettled.
By syed4 months ago in Fiction
The Silent Orchard
There was a path few dared to walk. Not because it was long, not because it was treacherous, but because silence itself seemed to guard it. The orchard lay at the end of that path, a stretch of land abandoned by time, where rows of ancient apple trees grew without care, their roots tangled like secrets. People said no bird sang there, no wind dared to whistle, and if you stepped inside, the hush would fall upon you like a cloak too heavy to shake off.
By syed4 months ago in Fiction
The Data Stream Shepherd
Leo’s world was a river of light and sound, a ceaseless, chattering current known as the Data Stream. His title was Senior Stream Analyst, Third Shift. Most called him a glorified janitor. His office was a dim cubicle on the 214th floor, and his purpose was to watch the flow—endless lines of code, consumer metrics, communication packets, and digital debris—and ensure the weirs and filters were clear. It was a job of profound loneliness, surrounded by the noise of seven billion people.
By Habibullah4 months ago in Fiction
The Rivalry of Titans: Elon Musk and the New World’s Richest
The Rivalry of Titans: Elon Musk and the New World’s Richest When wealth, innovation, and vision collide, history is written not just in fortunes but in ideas.
By WAQAR ALI4 months ago in Fiction
The Secret: Unveiling the Power of Thoughts and Intentions
The Secret: Unveiling the Power of Thoughts and Intentions How a Simple Idea Sparked a Global Movement of Hope, Manifestation, and Debate
By LONE WOLF4 months ago in Fiction
Ashes of Tomorrow
The city had no sky anymore. Smoke swallowed it decades ago, turning daylight into a dim, endless dusk. Towers leaned like broken teeth, their glass eyes shattered, and the streets pulsed faintly with the hum of machines that had outlived their makers. People whispered about leaving, about finding someplace untouched, but no one had ever returned with proof such a place existed.
By syed4 months ago in Fiction
The Mirror That Spoke
When the will was read, I expected nothing but fading trinkets. My grandmother had lived quietly, collecting antiques and silence in equal measure. Yet the solicitor’s voice carried one peculiar detail: I was to inherit her house and everything inside it. The house was old, leaning against time, and filled with the smell of dust and lavender. But what captured me most wasn’t the crooked stairwell or the drafty parlor. It was the mirror.
By syed4 months ago in Fiction
Beneath the Willow
The willow tree had stood at the edge of the lake for as long as anyone could remember. Its branches swept the water like long fingers, whispering secrets to anyone who would listen. As a child, I played beneath it, imagining that the rustling leaves told stories of distant lands. Adults warned me not to linger, claiming it was “just a tree,” but I knew better.
By syed4 months ago in Fiction