Mystery
Through the Wreckage: Voices of Train Survivors:. AI-Generated.
It was supposed to be a routine journey. Passengers boarded the train with everyday hopes—students carrying books, workers clutching lunchboxes, families sharing quiet conversations. The rhythmic sound of wheels against the tracks promised safety, familiarity, and progress. Yet within moments, that rhythm shattered into chaos.
By The Writer...A_Awan30 days ago in Fiction
The Man Who Vanished at the Bus Stop:. AI-Generated.
It was just another midnight at the bus stop. The air was heavy with the scent of rain, the streetlight above flickered as if struggling to stay alive, and the crowd around me seemed as ordinary as ever. Students with backpacks, office workers scrolling through their phones, and a few faces staring blankly into the distance. Nothing in that moment suggested it would turn into a story I would never forget.
By The Writer...A_Awan30 days ago in Fiction
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_Awan30 days 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 Stories30 days ago in Fiction
Echoes Beneath the Waves:. AI-Generated.
The night was calm, the sea stretching endlessly under a sky scattered with stars. Passengers aboard the RMS Titanic believed they were sailing on a miracle of modern engineering, a ship so vast and luxurious that it was called “unsinkable.” Yet beneath the glittering chandeliers and polished brass, fate was already writing its cruel script.
By The Writer...A_Awanabout 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
The Neighbourhood Christmas Tradition. Top Story - December 2025. Content Warning.
This is Part Two of The Neighbourhood Christmas Tradition. If you haven’t read Part One yet, you can find it here. When I get home, there’s an afternoon breeze, so I decide to eat dinner in my backyard. As I’m sitting at the table, I look over at my empty garden bed and remember that I have to do something about it. It almost looks as though the previous tenant's plants were pulled out and new soil was added, ready for a fresh start.
By Sandy Gillmanabout a month ago in Fiction
The Murder No One Saw
Mere-Evelyn Tavakaturaga-Sinclair realised she’d just watched a man die halfway through her second piña colada. One moment, she was floating in the infinity pool, the warm Bali evening wrapped around her like a damp shawl. The next, she was staring, transfixed, at the villa across the ravine.
By DARK TALE CO. about a month ago in Fiction
The Taj Mahal
The Taj Mahal I did not expect it to feel so quiet. Not silent, just calm in a way that made my chest slow down without asking. The Taj Mahal stood there as if it had been waiting, not for crowds or cameras, but for someone willing to look beyond the shine. White marble catching the light, not showing off, simply being present. I realised then this place was not built to impress the world. It was built to hold a feeling that refused to disappear.
By Marie381Uk about a month ago in Fiction
