Mystery
He Hurt Her. I Ended Him
She learned early how to hide bruises, how to smile with her eyes while her body ached, how to apologize for things she never did, her fiancé was admired in public, polite, charming, the kind of man mothers trusted and friends defended, but behind closed doors he turned love into control and silence into punishment, his hands never left marks where people could see at first, and when they did, he called them accidents, called her clumsy, called her dramatic, and she believed him longer than she should have because fear has a way of convincing you that survival is love, the night she finally left the apartment in a torn dress and shaking hands, she didn’t leave to escape him forever, she left to breathe for one evening, just one, she went to a classical concert downtown because it was dark and crowded and loud enough to drown her thoughts, she sat in the back row hoping no one would notice her, unaware that someone very powerful already had.
By Diab the story maker 26 days ago in Fiction
I Read My Wife’s Last Text—Three Years After Her Death
In life, there are times that divide time into two distinct periods: before and after. It is a division that is not soft and subtle, or even softly insistent. It simply is. In my story, one such time occurred three years after my wife’s passing when, one quiet evening like so many others, almost nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be about to happen. There would be no compelling sky, and there would be no meaningful calendar notation marking this event as one of specific import. It would simply be me, and my couch, and my phone—a phone I could so easily not answer.
By iftikhar Ahmad26 days ago in Fiction
The Unwanted Package:. AI-Generated.
The package arrived on a Tuesday—a day so painfully ordinary that it felt scripted. It sat motionless on my porch, wrapped in thick brown paper and bound with a coarse twine that looked as if it belonged to a different century. There was no return address, no courier stamp, and no postage marking. There was only my name, Elias Thorne, written in a cramped, shaky hand that felt hauntingly familiar.
By The Writer...A_Awan27 days ago in Fiction
Evergreen
The snow fell in soft, silent waves as the Cooper family’s SUV wound its way up the mountain road. The destination: a remote cabin surrounded by a pristine evergreen forest. Jeff Cooper had booked the cabin for his wife, Diane, and their two kids, Emily and Sam, hoping to rekindle the family’s bond after a difficult year.
By V-Ink Stories27 days ago in Fiction
Frostbite
The forecast had predicted light flurries, nothing unusual for the quiet mountain town where the Bell family lived. But by nightfall, the snowstorm had turned ferocious, battering the windows with icy gusts and blanketing the world outside in a suffocating white void.
By V-Ink Stories27 days ago in Fiction
Home for the Holidys
Snow blanketed the winding road as Nora drove toward the old family estate, her hands tight on the wheel. She hadn’t been home in years, not since the screaming fights and slammed doors that marked her departure. But her mother’s voice on the phone—quivering, pleading—had cut through her resolve.
By V-Ink Stories27 days ago in Fiction
From Beyond Our Sky What Is it
From Beyond Our Sky What Is It This image has been circulating online, and it immediately pulls you in. That long, cigar shaped object drifting silently through space doesn’t look like the comets we grew up seeing in books or documentaries. According to what’s being shared, it’s known as 3I or ATLAS, an interstellar object making a close pass by Earth, and scientists say it has already pushed them to rethink what they believed about comets in a very short space of time.
By Marie381Uk 27 days ago in Fiction
