Horror
The Silent Patient: A Voice Buried in Shadows... AI-Generated.
The first time I saw her, she was sitting in the corner of the psychiatric ward, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes fixed on something invisible beyond the barred window. Alicia Berenson had not spoken a single word since the night she shot her husband.
By The Writer...A_Awanabout a month ago in Fiction
On The Moors
My dear reader, have you ever come across this situation? You had spent a little time at a pub with a friend. Both of you had a hearty meal together and some good drinks. Then when you leave the pub goers give you cryptic warnings about what to do when you do. Such as not going on the moors and sticking to the path.
By Raphael Fontenelleabout a month ago in Fiction
Update: The Concession Stand Calls
UPDATE: The phone rang today… but this time, it wasn’t just the boy on the line. So, I wasn’t planning on updating because, honestly, I thought people would call BS, but a bunch of you asked for more details. And then something happened today that I can’t keep to myself.
By V-Ink Storiesabout a month ago in Fiction
Borrowed Face:. AI-Generated.
I first observed her on the train. She sat across from me, head tilted slightly, eyes fixed on the window as if the city rushing past was more important than the people inside. At first glance, she seemed ordinary—dark hair, pale skin, a tired expression. But then she turned, and my breath caught.
By The Writer...A_Awanabout a month ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Turning Seasons (part 24). AI-Generated.
Snow whispered against the cabin windows like fingers tapping from the outside. Evelyn sat at the edge of the old, soot-covered crib, gripping the photo the intruder had left behind. Her hands trembled, the edges of the picture digging into her skin.
By Ahmed aldeabellaabout a month ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Turning Seasons (part 16). AI-Generated.
The sheriff’s office felt smaller than ever. Evelyn sat alone in the interview room, elbows on the cold metal table, head buried in her hands. Everything was spinning— the woman, the child, the photos, the impossible familiarity.
By Ahmed aldeabellaabout a month ago in Fiction
The Butler’s Ledger. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
Angela Harrington’s husband Paul had always collected curiosities. Old clocks, Victorian dolls, strange silver trinkets. But the little bell he brought home from a London estate sale was different.
By Mr. Usevolod Voskoboinikovabout a month ago in Fiction
The Echo of Choices. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
In 2045, the world lay in ruins — not from nuclear fire, but from nature's furious rebirth. Cities crumbled under earthquakes, coasts vanished beneath tsunamis, volcanoes blanketed the sky in ash. Humanity survived, scarred but alive, forced to rebuild from the ground up.
By Mr. Usevolod Voskoboinikovabout a month ago in Fiction
Shadows In The Mirror:. AI-Generated.
The reflect had usually been regular. A rectangle of glass framed in timber, hanging quietly on the wall of Sara’s bed room. For years, it had meditated not anything greater than her tired mornings, moved quickly evenings, and the occasional smile she forced earlier than leaving for paintings. however one iciness night time, as the wind rattled in opposition to the windowpanes, the replicate commenced to alternate.
By The Writer...A_Awanabout a month ago in Fiction
