Psychological
Echoes of room 313
It was supposed to be just another hotel stay. Adeel was a travel writer—his job was to observe, experience, and move on. He had stayed in over 80 cities, written about rainstorms in Kerala, food markets in Morocco, and forgotten railways in Eastern Europe. But this time, he found himself in a lesser-known Pakistani town, Mehrabad, where his editor asked him to cover a story on “the cultural soul of small places.”
By Muhammad Abbas 7 months ago in Fiction
Lights Over London . Runner-Up in The Summer That Wasn’t Challenge. Top Story - July 2025.
“Madam, you should come below.” Elizabeth took a long drag on the cigarette tucked neatly in the ornate silver holder. She ashed it in the ivory tray sitting beside an untouched glass of brandy. “You know Dickie, I still remember the fireworks at old Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee. Sat right in this spot. I was sixteen, fresh from New York. Archie and his father lined the streets that day, and god knows what they did once the fireworks started,” She watched the horizon alight with activity while the tendrils of discarded cigarette ash swirled into the night through the open sitting room window. It was odd to see her London street all alive yet silently empty at the same time.
By Matthew J. Fromm7 months ago in Fiction
Where the Waves Remember Us. AI-Generated.
Some loves are not lost—just carried away. The sea did not keep time as humans did. But he did. Every year on the same day—August 17th—he returned to the shoreline where the cliffs curled like question marks and the wind never remembered to rest.
By Ahmet Kıvanç Demirkıran7 months ago in Fiction
The Emotion Simulator. AI-Generated.
In the year 2047, emotions were no longer abstract. They could be packaged, stored, replayed—felt again. All thanks to the E-Synapse: a neural interface allowing users to fully experience someone else’s recorded emotions.
By Ahmet Kıvanç Demirkıran7 months ago in Fiction
The Mirror Doesn't Lie, But It Forgets
The Mirror Doesn't Lie, But It Forgets By Hamza Khan It started with something small. A necklace—gold, delicate, with a tiny blue stone. Ada had never owned one like it, yet there it was, around the neck of her reflection as she brushed her teeth. For a moment she froze, staring. The real Ada, in her cotton T-shirt and tangled hair, was bare-necked. But her reflection wore the necklace like it belonged.
By Hamza khan7 months ago in Fiction
Where the Silence Slept
Silence had a home here. Not the kind of silence that follows loud noise—the pause in conversation, the hush of an empty room—but a deeper, heavier kind. The silence that settles into the bones of a place, wrapping itself around the walls and the furniture, curling in corners like a sleeping animal that refuses to be disturbed.
By Jawad Khan7 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker's Garden
There was a village at the edge of the world where time stood still—not metaphorically, but truly. The sun always hovered in the same place. The shadows never grew longer. The leaves on the trees were forever green, and not a single wrinkle ever touched the faces of the people who lived there.
By Lucien Hollow 7 months ago in Fiction
