Fan Fiction

The House That Remembered Rain
I first saw the house on a quiet street, its paint peeling, windows fogged with condensation. The roof sagged slightly, yet the building held a strange dignity, as if it had witnessed centuries of life and refused to crumble. Rain began to fall as I approached, light at first, then heavier, drumming on the pavement. The sound drew me closer.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker Who Stole Nights
The workshop stood at the end of a narrow street, tucked between two crumbling buildings. Its windows were covered with dust, yet faint golden light spilled from the cracks around the door. I had heard whispers in the village: the clockmaker was no ordinary artisan. He did not simply mend time; he manipulated it, capturing moments others would never remember.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Garden That Grew Shadows
I stumbled upon the garden on a quiet afternoon, hidden behind a crumbling stone wall at the edge of town. Its gate was ajar, ivy curling around rusted hinges, and the air smelled of earth, rain, and something faintly metallic. I stepped inside, curious, and immediately noticed how different it felt.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Train That Ran Backwards
I first saw it on a quiet evening, when the station was nearly empty. The platform stretched under dim lamps, mist curling around the tracks. A train approached from nowhere, its engine low and steady, glowing faintly in the fog. But it moved strangely—it ran backwards, wheels turning toward the past rather than the future.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Shop That Sold Memories
In a narrow alley where the cobblestones glistened with rain, I discovered a small shop I had never noticed before. Its windows were fogged with age, and a faint, sweet scent drifted into the street. A faded sign hung crookedly above the door, etched with words I could barely read: Memories for Sale.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Island Where Time Waited
The boat drifted slowly toward the island, fog curling around the hull like fingers of mist. I had been sailing aimlessly, guided only by the stars, when I noticed it: a small landmass, untouched by maps, hidden behind waves and clouds. Its shoreline was jagged, cliffs rising like ancient sentinels, and the trees swayed as if greeting me.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Painter Who Captured Souls
In the corner of a quiet street stood a small art studio, the windows fogged with dust and the smell of oil paint. I had walked past it a hundred times, but that day something drew me in—something subtle, like the whisper of a forgotten memory. Inside, the painter worked silently, brush in hand, eyes fixed on a canvas I could not see.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Town Where Dreams Sleep
I arrived at the town on a gray morning. Mist curled around lamp posts, clinging to windowsills, and the streets were silent except for the distant clatter of shutters. It seemed ordinary at first glance, but the air was thick with a heaviness I could not name. People moved slowly, their faces blank, as if carrying burdens invisible to the eye.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Lighthouse That Saw Tomorrow
The lighthouse stood at the edge of the cliff, battered by storms and kissed by the relentless waves. Its white paint was chipped, the metal railing rusted, yet its light never faltered. I had heard rumors about it in the village below—stories whispered by fishermen of a lantern that shone with visions of what was yet to come. I had dismissed them as superstition. Until the night I climbed the spiral stairs alone.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Forest That Whispered Names
The first time I entered the forest, I thought it was ordinary. Tall pines, soft undergrowth, the smell of earth after rain. Birds called, leaves rustled, and the sun filtered through in golden streams. But then I heard it—a faint murmur, delicate and almost imperceptible, like wind brushing against leaves.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Mirror That Remembered Yesterday
I first saw the mirror in an antique shop at the edge of town, wedged between stacks of yellowed books and tarnished silverware. Its frame was carved with delicate patterns, twisting vines and strange symbols that seemed familiar, yet I could not place them. The glass itself was dark, almost black, reflecting light only faintly. The shopkeeper warned me, though not in words that made sense at the time.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction
The Library That Dreamed in Ink
The library was not on any map. It had no sign, no address, and yet, somehow, everyone who needed it found it eventually. I stumbled upon it on a rainy evening, the kind where streets gleamed like glass and the sky threatened to spill forever. A small wooden door appeared between two buildings, unassuming, almost shy. I pushed it open, and the air inside smelled of old paper, rain, and something else—something alive.
By syed5 months ago in Fiction