Fan Fiction

The Toppings are Screaming
Jason hated his new job at Slice of Heaven Pizzeria. Something about the place didn’t sit right with him. Maybe it was the eerie silence in the kitchen despite how busy they always seemed. Maybe it was the overly cheerful owner, Mr. Carver, whose grin never quite reached his eyes. Or maybe it was the smell—a coppery tang that lingered in the air, stronger than any garlic or pepperoni.
By V-Ink Stories5 months ago in Fiction
Pizza From The Void
The clock on Jason’s dashboard flickered, the LED digits shifting erratically between 11:59 PM and 12:00 AM. It was late, and this last delivery didn’t even make sense. The order had come in through a glitchy phone call, the voice on the other end crackling like static, reciting an address that didn’t appear on any map.
By V-Ink Stories5 months ago in Fiction
One Slice Short
It was Jason’s third week on the job at Hot & Fresh Pizza, and he was already running on fumes. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it paid the bills. He was on his final delivery of the night—a house at the edge of town, nestled deep in a forest. The customer, listed as Ms. Eliza Morrell, had left an unusually specific note:
By V-Ink Stories5 months ago in Fiction
The City of Endless Echoes
No one remembered when the city had first begun to echo. Travelers spoke in whispers, claiming that the streets carried every word ever spoken within their walls. The market squares hummed with laughter long forgotten, alleys moaned with arguments that had been silenced centuries ago, and rooftops trembled under the weight of promises and confessions that the wind could not carry away.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Clockwork Heart
Elias had always been fascinated by machines. Not ordinary clocks or gears, but the intricate mechanisms that seemed almost alive, tiny universes of spinning wheels and interlocking cogs. In his workshop, every device hummed with a quiet rhythm, a testament to human ingenuity. But there was one invention he kept hidden, even from himself, until the day the heart arrived.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Whispering Forest
The forest had always been alive. Not with birds or small creatures, though they existed, but with something older, something that felt like memory itself. Travelers spoke of the whispers carried on the wind—fragments of forgotten dreams, long-lost secrets, and the voices of those who had once walked the paths. Few dared enter. Fewer returned.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Mirror That Refused Lies
In a quiet street of the city, tucked between two tall, abandoned buildings, there was a shop that sold mirrors. Not ordinary mirrors. These were rare, handcrafted, with frames carved from dark wood and glass that shimmered even in dim light. The shopkeeper, a thin man with pale eyes and a crooked smile, welcomed no casual visitors. Only those seeking the truth, he said, could enter.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Girl Who Painted with Shadows
In the old quarter of the city, where alleys twisted like veins and lamplight flickered weakly, lived a girl named Ilyra. She carried no paints, no canvas, no bright pigments to smear across the world. Her medium was stranger. She painted with shadows.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Book That Refused to End
It appeared in the library one afternoon, quietly, as though it had always been there. No librarian recalled cataloging it, no student remembered seeing it before. The cover was simple—black leather, unmarked, except for a faint gold title pressed into the spine: The Last Story.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Moon Wrote Letters to the Sea
The fishermen swore the ocean listened. Not to prayers, not to engines, but to the moon. Each night when the tide rose, the waves seemed to carry words, fragments of sentences that no one could quite decipher. It was easy to dismiss it as imagination—until one boy decided to prove otherwise.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Child Who Painted the Wind
The village at the edge of the desert had nothing remarkable about it. Houses of clay, markets that closed before sunset, people who lived by routine. But in that village lived a child with colors no one else could see. His name was Sami, though people rarely spoke it without a sigh. He was odd, they said. Always drawing in the dust, always staring at the sky, always chasing something that wasn’t there.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The River That Sang in Dreams
It started with a sound. A low hum, soft as a lullaby, threading its way into the dreams of those who lived near the valley. The farmers swore they heard it first, drifting into their sleep after long days in the fields. Children claimed the melodies danced through their minds, guiding them into adventures no waking world could offer. The elders said nothing at all, though their eyes revealed a recognition too deep to share.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction