Mystery
The Tale-Telling Wall
Once upon a time, in a small village, there was a wall that could talk. The wall was a part of a grand old castle that had seen many battles and had heard many secrets. The villagers whispered that the wall had been cursed by a wicked sorceress and that was why it could talk. But the wall didn't mind. It had a tale to tell and was happy to have someone to listen.
By Djan Dickson3 years ago in Fiction
A ghost who was once a famous musician still performs for the living, but yearns for a real audience
The phantom of a once popular performer tormented a little music setting in the core of the city. He had been a rising star in the music world, famous for his remarkable ability on the piano. Nonetheless, an unfortunate mishap ended his life before he could arrive at the pinnacle of his distinction.
By Subash Sugumar3 years ago in Fiction
The Pillar of Adam
Chapter 1 Dear diary, Today was a long and grueling day, much like every other day in our small village of Sheebsville. As I sat at the kitchen table with my parents, I couldn't help but feel a deep sadness for our circumstances. My mother and father work tirelessly to make ends meet, but no matter how hard they try, it never seems to be enough. I often go to bed hungry, my stomach growling in protest, and I can see the same hunger reflected in my parents' eyes.
By Nathan Kontney3 years ago in Fiction
The Silent Witness
"If walls could talk," said the old stone wall of the stately manor house, "Oh, the tales I could tell of the secrets and events that have taken place in front of me. I've been a silent witness to it all, from the grand parties and balls to the hushed whispers and heated arguments, all behind closed doors.
By Dominic Elrond3 years ago in Fiction
A Past Life
A chill rushed through me as I rubbed my crossed and bruised arms in the rain. My torn clothes didn’t help ease the chill of the rain Tears mingled with the rain on my face. I glanced back at the dilapidated brick apartment building. I clutched the locket around my neck wishing for some kind of comfort or release. My father stormed out of our door on the second floor. My heart raced as I looked out to dark open road in front of me. His stomping rang through the parking lot. I bolted into the darkness.
By Ariel Curry3 years ago in Fiction
