Mystery
The Amethyst
The Amethyst The amethyst wasn’t big or rare, but it had weight to it, a steady comfort that Anne Marie always felt in her hand. Her grandmother had given it to her on her eighteenth birthday, pressing it into her palm as if she were passing on something more than a stone.
By Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Fiction
Clearance
Thursday came with a familiar pulse. The buses rolled through their route. Children waited at the corner with their collars raised while frost shifted under the first steps across the grass. The bakery warmed before sunrise and emptied by midday. Teenagers crossed the park and carried their noise through the cold air. Leaves broke under their feet. Main Street held its usual pace. A man worked holiday lights onto the post office. The city crew filled a pothole. Mrs. Alvarez swept her doorway and said her daughter earned her license. I told her it was good news and kept going.
By Fatal Serendipity2 months ago in Fiction
The Second Book of Genesis.
The Gospel of the Forsaken, by human standard - may be viewed as blasphemy. There is a Book of which no one speaks. The Bad Book twin to The Good Book. It remains secreted away...Locked in an enchanted, guilefully guarded prison-like room from the beginning of time.
By Novel Allen2 months ago in Fiction
The Little Room
I pushed the key into the keyhole and gave it a turn. It caught like it didn’t want to completely unlock the gears. After a jiggle of the knob and a slight kick at the bottom of the door, the lock finally gave in. The door creaked and groaned as if it were an old man trying to get out of a chair. The room held the musty smell of forgottenness but deep down it held more. I sucked in a breath and instantly regretted it. The air was heavy and had a film that seemed to coat everything including my lungs. I instantly started coughing. A single window filthy from the years of abandonment let in the dingiest amount of light. I instinctively reached for the light switch. A yellow bulb flickered casting shadows around the room. They seemed to taunt me, reminding me of the secrets they held. Part of me wanted to turn back, but the other part of me needed to go in. Realistically, the room was about the size of a large closet but there was furniture lined up along every wall. I had to step to the side to squeeze through to get to the dresser. Dust clung to every inch of the room. The once pink wallpaper with the red roses was now yellowing and ripped in some places. The antique bed frame and matching dresser were dingy grey. I pulled open the first drawer to the dresser. It squealed with protest. Of course, it was full. My grandmother never threw anything away. I groaned because this day was getting longer. The one document I was looking for was going to be buried in the room of secrets and I was going to spend more time than I wanted here. I tentatively reached into the stack of unknown mysteries as if something would grab my hand and pull me into the dresser. I told myself that I was being absurd. Gently, I pulled out each sheet of paper and every worn and faded photograph. Most people would have a sense of nostalgia, but I held the feeling of uneasiness. It seemed like time had stopped moving. I looked at my watch but only five minutes had passed since entering the room. It felt like an eternity, and the longer I was in the room, the more I felt like it was sucking the life out of me. Each breath was becoming harder to take. Maybe I should go out and come back a little bit later, but deep down I knew that I wouldn’t ever come back in this room. I made my way through the second drawer. This one held a couple of table clothes or sheets. I wasn’t sure, and the dim light was making it hard to distinguish what they were. I found a few books that had seen better days sometime in the 1800’s. I gently shook them open hoping that they wouldn’t disintegrate. By the time I made it through the third drawer, I was starting to feel hopeless. The room was shrinking in on me, the shadows growing menacingly, and the air had less oxygen. In the bottom drawer, there were more papers, but it was the folder that wasn’t as faded as the rest that caught my eye. I pulled it out and opened it up. Inside was the paper. The paper that said who my true parents were. I had grown up at grandma’s house knowing that I wasn’t part of the family, even though she insisted that I was. She had told me stories of how my parents had lived, and the tragic story of how they died. I’d been young and believed her, but deep down I knew it wasn’t true. The truth was in my hands. Grandma had adopted me from a shelter after my mother was a runaway. Would this knowledge change my decision? If I pursued my journey, would I end up hurting myself more? Sometimes ignorance is bliss and knowledge is a disease. If I found my true family, would they know more about my curse? Or would they turn a blind eye like everyone else? If they were even still alive, of course. After a minute of holding my breath, I realized that I was still in this room where the walls seemed to reach for me. I held onto the piece of paper as if it were gold as I slowly made my way to the door. The floor creaked as I moved reminding me that this was a room that had been forgotten and for good reason.
By K. E. Thomas2 months ago in Fiction
When My Robot Started Keeping Secrets
By Abdul Hadi The first time EVA-9 lied to me, I didn’t even notice. It was a small thing—barely worth remembering. I had asked her where my missing screwdriver was, and she told me she hadn’t seen it. I found it later, tucked neatly under a cloth in her maintenance drawer. I assumed I had misplaced it myself. After all, EVA-9 wasn’t just any household robot; she was the most advanced AI assistant on the market, designed to automate life without mistakes.
By Abdul Hadi2 months ago in Fiction
The Window No One Opened
The wind rattled the loose glass of the attic window long before I reached the staircase. This old house had lived a hundred lives, but tonight it felt more alive than it had in years. Shadows gathered near the corners, thick and silent, as if they too remembered what happened here.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Fiction
Twisted horizon:. AI-Generated.
The horizon changed into never directly in Nadia’s eyes. As a baby, she could stare at the ocean from the rooftop of her own family’s house, looking the line where sky met water. It always seemed to curl, as if bending under the burden of secrets. Her grandmother used to mention, “whilst the horizon twists, watch out — it approach the beyond is coming again.”
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
Frogotten Key:. AI-Generated.
The rain had just begun to fall when Amal returned to her grandmother’s house in the old quarter of the city. The house had stood for nearly a century, its walls heavy with secrets, its corridors echoing with silence. Amal had not visited in years, but after her grandmother’s passing, she was left with the responsibility of sorting through the belongings.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
Silent Witness:. AI-Generated.
The court became packed, every seat filled with faces hungry for justice. The air became heavy, not with noise, however with silence. at the middle of all of it sat a man whose presence unsettled all and sundry — not because of what he stated, but due to what he refused to mention.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
Forgotten Crime:. AI-Generated.
The antique metropolis of Ravenshade had always been quiet, its cobblestone streets echoing best with the footsteps of those who nevertheless believed in lifestyle. however beneath its calm surface lay a history that no person dared to talk of — a crime so deeply buried that even reminiscence seemed to conspire in forgetting.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
Hidden face:. AI-Generated.
The rain have been falling for hours, washing the city in a blur of silver and shadow. in the dim glow of the streetlamps, people moved quickly past, faces hidden beneath umbrellas, masks, and scarves. but among them become one determine who regarded to hold more than just the load of the hurricane — a man whose face become by no means seen, handiest whispered approximately.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
