Fantasy

The Book
He came to the city in the evening. The streets were narrow and led always upward. At the top, there was the library. The librarian waited for him at the door. He was very old and thin. Without a word, he turned and walked inside.
By Tom Baker5 months ago in Fiction
The Day I Lost My Family. AI-Generated.
It was a Sunday morning when the world I knew shattered into pieces. I still remember the sunlight sneaking in through the curtains, warm on my face, and the faint smell of tea drifting from the kitchen. For a moment, everything felt normal. My mother humming an old tune, my father tapping his newspaper, and my younger sister chasing our old cat around the living room—it was a picture of peace I never thought could disappear so suddenly.
By Hazrat Bilal5 months ago in Fiction
Eyelens: The World Beneath Sight
The first time Kieran slipped the Eyelens into his eye, he expected nothing more than sharper vision. He had read the promotional tagline—“See the world as it truly is”—and assumed it was just clever marketing. After all, every breakthrough in optics for the last century had promised the same thing.
By Princess Ladly5 months ago in Fiction
Footprints in the Snow
It was the kind of winter morning when the world felt like it had paused. The night’s snowfall had laid a thick white blanket across the city, softening every edge and silencing every sound. The usual noise of cars and chatter was gone; only the crunch of snow under careful footsteps could be heard.
By arsalan ahmad5 months ago in Fiction
The House That Wrote Letters Back
When Lydia first stepped into the weathered seaside house, it smelled faintly of salt and old wood. The realtor had called it charming with potential, but to Lydia, it felt like something else entirely—like the house had been waiting. She had come here after her divorce, tired of the city, tired of voices that promised comfort but carried nothing but noise. The ocean was meant to be her quiet, her restart. But the very first morning, she discovered something that turned her solitude into a mystery: a folded letter on the kitchen table in her own looping handwriting.
By Musawir Shah5 months ago in Fiction
The Secret City That Exists Only at Midnight
I never believed in cities that weren’t on maps. Not until the night I stumbled into one. The Train That Shouldn’t Exist It began with a sound—sharp, hollow, and impossible. A train whistle at midnight.
By Daniel Writes 5 months ago in Fiction
The Pied Sniper
Those fools in the town below thought I would help them and they could simply stiff me on the bill. Oh, I’ll show them. I’ll show them, indeed.
By Stephen A. Roddewig5 months ago in Fiction
Of Ash and Ivy
Elowen despised humans. They carved the very roads through sacred groves, hunted what they did not need, and burned without the thought of what the flames were consuming. Whilst on patrol in the foggy mists of the forest, the patrol became the reason to draw her bowstring fiercely. The man, a trespasser in the Sylvanwood Forest, her home, no less- she took it upon herself to protect the borders herself. She squints with disdain.
By Cinnaminnie6 months ago in Fiction
The Lantern Girl. AI-Generated.
When I was a child, my grandmother often whispered stories by the dim glow of a kerosene lamp. Her voice was soft, almost secretive, as if the walls themselves were listening. One of the tales she repeated most often was about the Lantern Girl.
By Joudy Mohamed6 months ago in Fiction
Roman Rance: The Unyielding Storm
Roman Rance was born on the fringes of the Empire, in a small settlement where the stone walls of Rome’s power were more rumor than reality. His father was a soldier who never returned from campaign, and his mother a weaver who taught him the rhythm of patience, but it was in the wild fields and ruins near his home that Roman truly grew. He was a boy who fought the wind, shouted against storms, and swore that he would one day be more than just another forgotten name.
By Princess Ladly6 months ago in Fiction
The Crimson Hour
🌿 A short story born from this art… The rain fell like accusations against the windshield, each drop carrying the weight of unspoken truths. Maya had been driving for sixteen hours straight, her knuckles bone-white against the steering wheel, following a ghost across state lines that blurred together like watercolors in the storm.
By Prompted Beauty6 months ago in Fiction
How Being a Teacher Made Me Hate the Inner Circle More than a Little Bit
Let me start with a confession: I used to adore the Inner Circle from A Court of Thorns and Roses. They were the “dream friend group.” Loyal, powerful, hilarious, ride-or-die types who always had dramatic entrances and deep trauma bonds. But the more I re-read the series—as a teacher, an adult, someone who deals with real-life power, protection, favoritism, and actual care—the more I realized something pretty alarming:
By Kayla Bloom6 months ago in Fiction