Horror
The Lantern Beyond the Dust
The old village slept beneath a veil of dust and silence. Houses made of clay stood shoulder to shoulder, breathing out the weight of years. The scent of earth and forgotten dreams floated in the still air. Every evening, as the sun sank behind the hills and shadows stretched across the narrow road, a single lantern came alive — hanging by the door of a small, crumbling house.
By Riaz Hamkar4 months ago in Fiction
The Map That Drew Itself Part 1
Some maps don't like being drawn--they prefer to hold the pen. 🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭🧭 The Head Historian had approached Elias Mapps that morning with a task that those in the archives shunned---to restore a fading map.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin4 months ago in Fiction
The Apparition of Recognition. AI-Generated.
The gilded cage of her existence, though adorned with smiles and nods, had long been transmuted into a prison. Each year refined the artifice, polished the sepulchre, until no trace of her true self was permitted to emerge. The wound—that wound inflicted by that man—bled unseen, festering in silence, its venom consuming marrow, thought, and spirit alike.
By Carolyn Patton4 months ago in Fiction
The Vanished Village Beneath the Lake
On a crisp autumn morning in 1950, the people of Dana, Massachusetts, gathered in silence as bulldozers rolled into their streets. Children clutched their mothers’ hands, old men leaned on canes, and the echo of church bells rang for the last time. Within weeks, their homes, schools, and memories would be gone—buried beneath a vast man-made lake. The government called it progress. The people called it betrayal.
By Shohel Rana4 months ago in Fiction
