Short Story
The Forgotten Room
[By mazkaz] 1. The Old House on Willow Street Ayaan had not returned to Willow Street for almost twelve years. Life had carried him far away—toward college, work, and the noise of a busy city—but the silence of his childhood home continued to echo inside him. When his mother passed away, the house became a shadow he didn’t want to face. And now that his father was gone too, the house waited for him like an unanswered letter.
By Muzzakir Khan2 months ago in Fiction
In the room, in the room..
...In the room, in the room, Long-forgotten room Moss and mushrooms make the floor Daisies bloom... I raise a fittingly bitter wine to my lips toasting the past. The bag is waiting by the door and one glance at it makes my fingers tremble. A tiny drop of red wine bends the curve of the glass and forever imprints on my pristinely white shirt - I watch it happen over and over again.
By Salomé Saffiri2 months ago in Fiction
Winter. Top Story - December 2025.
This is a work of fiction written by Isabella Rose on 12/3/2025. Those who know me can easily understand the truth. His texts were few and far between as the illness slowly but steadily hijacked his mind. She wanted to scream, “Why are you leaving me,” but she knew he was dying and there was nothing she could do, but watch.
By Isabella Rose2 months ago in Fiction
To Dust. Top Story - December 2025. Content Warning.
Cassus stood before the locked and barred tomb. Twenty years before, he laid its inhabitants to rest. It was as tombs made by families of modest wealth tended to be: four columns supporting an angled roof festooned with griffins, unicorns, and humble men seeking their eternal forgiveness from the Crescent Sun. The bards would pack the tavern with that irony. Cassus laughed to himself and the effort turned to a rasping cough that made his knees buckle. He knew he’d receive no such forgiveness when they laid him to rest.
By Matthew J. Fromm2 months ago in Fiction
Duck Blind
Oliver Green was the thirty-second victim of what was called Jodie Syndrome. Just like the thirty-one victims before him, he woke up in the Contagious Disease Department of Bronzeville Hospital. And, just like all the victims before him, he woke up with a splitting headache. He had no memory of his life before he opened his eyes in the hospital. He remembered his name. He remembered how to speak. But nothing that could tell him who he really was—where he was from, who his family was, what his job had been, whether he had money. It was all gone.
By David E. Perry2 months ago in Fiction
Haunt. Honorable Mention in The Forgotten Room Challenge.
Morning. You come awake to dust motes dancing in spots of sun. Your bedroom is exactly as it was the day before- and the day before that, and before that. Your record player by the vanity where you do your makeup, sitting gathering dust, your flower pressings pinned to the wall above the neatly made bed you no longer sleep in. This room is hidden now, walled off, a mystery to the rest of the house, a time capsule in which your life is preserved just as you left it.
By Raistlin Allen2 months ago in Fiction
Shunned
“Peter! Get ready or you’ll be late for school!” Shouted Peter’s mom from the kitchen downstairs. The teenaged boy got dressed quickly, for fear of inciting his mother’s wraith and exited his room, casting a slight glance at the room down the hall. He always wondered what could be inside. It had been locked ever since he was a child, and no one every went in or out. Shrugging off his curiosity, he dashed downstairs where breakfast was just being served. Peter’s dad was reading the local newspaper, as usual, while Mom prepared a breakfast fit for a king.
By Jesse Leung2 months ago in Fiction
Dust and Static. Top Story - December 2025.
Just one more box. Frank thought to himself as he turned back into his childhood home. The loss of his parents was, on paper, a tragedy, a car crash that couldn't have been avoided, but in reality it was no real loss to him. It had been years since he'd spoken to them, and even longer since he'd seen them.
By Liam Storm2 months ago in Fiction
Some Notes for the Project
Memo to Self: The following notes were found at the building site after a search was conducted by the replacement crew. No sign of the original workers hired is available except for the notebook discovered and recorded here. We will keep searching to see if we can discover what happened. And the notes might provide some sort of clue as to what went down. The owner of the original site cannot be contacted and we still have work to complete.
By Kendall Defoe 2 months ago in Fiction
The Dawn and the Moon
The study smelled of old parchment, stained wood, & pipe smoke. Lord Edran Ainsel sat behind his ancient desk, its surface worn smooth by generations of hands that had signed treaties, condemned traitors, and helped pen the future of Goodhollow.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)2 months ago in Fiction
