Mystery
THE LAST LIGHT IN WILLOW CREEK
When I returned to Willow Creek after twelve years away, the town looked almost exactly as I’d left it—small, neat, peaceful—like someone had pressed “pause” on time. The wooden houses stood in rows like storybook cottages, the old bakery still filled the street with the smell of cinnamon buns, and the creek ran lazily beside the main road, singing its familiar whispering song.
By Alisher Jumayevabout a month ago in Fiction
Amber Heartbeat
The first time the wall pulsed beneath Aria’s palm, she thought it was a trick of the late-evening light—one of those soft illusions old houses like to play on tired minds. The hallway was already quiet in that peculiar, listening way, its faded wallpaper breathing dust and age. A thin beam of dusk filtered through the cracked window above the staircase, striking the vine-patterned wallpaper like a spotlight trained on forgotten history.
By Jhon smithabout a month ago in Fiction
THE QUIET WOMAN ACROSS THE HALL
I first noticed her on a wet Tuesday morning, the kind of morning when the city felt permanently exhausted. She stood in the narrow hallway of our apartment building, staring at the wall as if deciphering invisible handwriting. A pale woman, tall and thin, with dark circles under her eyes that suggested she hadn’t slept in days.
By Alisher Jumayevabout a month ago in Fiction
The Last Ember of Aravelle
Aravelle had always been a kingdom of fire. Not destructive fire—but living flame. The ancient Emberstone at the heart of the capital city, Solinaris, glowed with an eternal light that warmed crops, filled the sky with a soft golden haze, and kept the darkness of the Netherdeep at bay. Children were taught that as long as the Ember burned, Aravelle would endure.
By Alisher Jumayevabout a month ago in Fiction
I Opened a Door in My House That Should Not Exist
I’ve lived in my house for more than a decade. In all those years, I believed I knew this place better than anyone—every creaking floorboard, every shifting shadow, every cold draft that slipped through the old wooden frames. But yesterday, I discovered something that should not exist in any home.
By Muhammad Reyazabout a month ago in Fiction
PART III — THE SHADOW IN THE LANTERN
The floating platform buckled beneath Kael as the shadow beasts swarmed, their serpentine forms weaving through the shattered walkways like rivers of living night. The air thickened with magic—wild, unstable, electric.
By Alisher Jumayevabout a month ago in Fiction
PART II — THE SKY THAT REMEMBERS
The instant Kael and Elara stepped through the star-lit arch, the ground vanished beneath their feet. Wind roared around them. Colors bled like liquid starlight, swirling in impossible shapes—spirals of violet flame, rivers of gold flowing upward, fragments of constellations drifting like snow.
By Alisher Jumayevabout a month ago in Fiction
