Fantasy

The First Night. Content Warning.
As she drove up to the hospital, she was a little nervous. This was a new job for her, and she didn’t really know what to expect. And it was the night shift. In a hospice unit. She figured the patients would be asleep. What she wasn’t banking on was the emotions she would be feeling by the time the shift was over.
By Pamela Dirr6 months ago in Fiction
I Followed the Moonlight Into the Forest… and Found a Door to Another World
The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and wet earth. I had no reason to wander beyond the edges of my backyard—at least, not until I saw the moonlight.
By Vincent Otiri6 months ago in Fiction
Death’s Intern
If you had told me at the start of summer that I’d be working for the Grim Reaper, I would’ve laughed. Then again, I also laughed when Dad said sunscreen was important — and now I’m still peeling.
By Zulfiqar Khan6 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Knew When You Were Lying. AI-Generated.
He didn’t work in the police. He wasn’t a lawyer. He was just the guy who sat at the same corner table in a small tea shop every evening, watching people.
By MUHAMMAD MUIZZ6 months ago in Fiction
Yippie-kay-yay, Mother Crustacean
It all started one fateful day when I was searching the Great Coral for interesting trinkets to show my mother and father. I happened across something so intriguing that I had to fight a literal frogfish. You don't know what a frogfish looks like? Well, brother, you're in for a shock. They don't actually look like frogs at all—and they're nasty omnivores.
By Paul Stewart6 months ago in Fiction
Someone Is Living in My Dreams
Every night, as darkness settles outside my window, I feel a strange presence with me. It’s not terrifying, but it’s undeniably real. The dream world I slip into is no longer empty – someone else has moved in. At first, I thought it was a trick of the mind, maybe the echo of a story I read too late. But as the nights wore on, the feeling grew too vivid to ignore. Someone is living in my dreams, whispering to me in the silence between sleep and waking.
By Hamid6 months ago in Fiction
Kingdom of Winged Lies - The Scribe
The fire crackles in the hearth behind him. He twitches a hand. The sound, however subtle or falsely comforting it may be, disturbs him, and he shifts slightly in his upholstered chair, straightening. He sets down the pen in his hand, being sure not to dot the precious paper with any splatter of misplaced ink, and turns ever so slightly toward the bookcase. The wall behind it is drenched in shadow cast by the fire, but even so, he can see, in the darkness, the vague figure of someone sitting in the lounge and reading, one leg crossed over the other, a book open wide in one hand, the opposite placed lightly against the armrest.
By Chloe6 months ago in Fiction
The Window That Waited
In a quiet corner of the city, where the traffic never quite quieted and the buildings leaned into each other like old friends, stood a weathered apartment block with peeling paint and a rusted fire escape. It wasn’t grand or new, but it had stood for decades, holding stories in its walls.
By meerjanan6 months ago in Fiction
Below the Throne
Flinching shadows obscured ancient tapestries of forgotten glories. The King sagged in his throne like melting wax. His captain was a statue at his side in polished armor, unmarred by battles never fought for land already lost. Silence gripped them like the icy air of the empty chamber, broken suddenly by slamming doors. A ragged and breathless figure stumbled in. "Majesty, the outer gates have been breached. The enemy is flooding the streets."
By Levi Grey6 months ago in Fiction
The Memory Weaver of Willow Creek
Elara didn’t have a shop with a sign. The people of Willow Creek knew where to find her small cottage, tucked away behind a canopy of ancient willows that dipped their long, green fingers into a slow-moving creek. They came to her not for mended shoes or fresh bread, but for something far more delicate: their memories. Elara was a memory weaver, and in a town where the past weighed heavy on every soul, she was a quiet, necessary comfort.
By Jack Nod6 months ago in Fiction
The Macabre Terror Of Boogie Night 79. Content Warning.
Lori looked in the mirror, gave her hair one last fluff, and spun around twice. She thought to herself, “once for style, once for luck.” Tonight was going to be a night of glitter, glamour, and maybe a little trouble. She grabbed her gold clutch, the one that squeaked when it closed, and strutted out into the hallway. This would be the big party night before heading out to a Toronto suburb and her first nursing job.
By Bruce Curle `6 months ago in Fiction
The Weaver of Yesterday
Elias was a tailor of ghosts. In his dimly lit workshop, nestled in the chrome and neon canyons of Neo-Alexandria, he didn't work with fabric and thread, but with the gossamer strands of synaptic data and raw emotion. He was a Mem-Weaver, an artisan of the highest order in an age where genuine experience was a luxury few could afford. For the right price, he could stitch together a memory of a first kiss under a star-dusted sky, the triumph of summiting a mountain that existed only on a server farm in the Pacific, or the simple, quiet joy of a childhood that never was.
By Alpha Cortex6 months ago in Fiction