Short Story
The Almanac's Whisper
For generations, the Thornfield Farm yield was the envy of the valley. Their secret wasn’t just skill; it was the Almanac. It wasn’t the mass-produced kind. This was a thick, leather-bound tome, handwritten by every Thornfield heir since 1782. Its predictions were uncanny: “Plant after the oak leaf unfurls, but before the swallow returns,” or “A hard rain will come on the second day when the wind smells of wet stone.” It spoke not in dates, but in signs. It was magic, plain and simple.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
The House Gibson Stayed In. Content Warning.
Nathan was exhausted and the last goal felt impossible. He dashed down the field as two opponents surrounded. The firm ground grew muddy, the air filled with moisture, and sweat pooled on his back. The dark clouds clamped down on the sunlight — reminding him of a church pamphlet.
By zak karriem2 months ago in Fiction
The Classroom That Rearranges Itself:. AI-Generated.
It commenced on an everyday Monday morning. students entered Room 12, watching for the usual neat rows of desks and chairs. as an alternative, the furniture changed into scattered throughout the ground, forming a bizarre spiral sample. The trainer frowned, assuming the janitor had performed a prank. however while puzzled, the team of workers insisted no one had touched the room.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
Heir of the Storm
+CHAPTER ONE — The Debt and the Dawn The Astral had no sky. Just memory wearing the shape of one. Grass crackled beneath Odyssey’s bare feet like burning pages. A wind moved through the brittle field, carrying the scent of distant rain that never fell. Above her, clouds churned like tender bruises under pressure.
By Kristen Keenon Fisher2 months ago in Fiction
The Last Notification:. AI-Generated.
It become eleven:47 p.m. while Ayesha’s cellphone buzzed on her desk. She had silenced all apps hours in the past, decided to finish her essay earlier than middle of the night. yet, the screen lit up with a notification from an app she didn’t don't forget putting in. Its icon was a faint grey circle, nearly invisible against the dark heritage.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
A Christmas Glitch. Top Story - December 2025.
The twins were dead. Our hero knew it, and you may imagine that a little something in him unclenched when he saw the news on his screen. Now, at last, he was truly free of them, and the knowledge was like a sigh. Were he a balloon animal, one segment of his torso (or his neck, or one intestinal-esque limb) would have gently unscrewed itself. His heart and lungs lost a little creak that he didn't even know he'd been carrying.
By L.C. Schäfer2 months ago in Fiction
The Room That Waited
In a quaint little town, in the misty, rolling hills of Ireland, stood a vast castle-like home. It looked like a mashup of medieval and Victorian-era architecture. The greystone was covered in creeping vines, and the archways and windows were adorned with Victorian-era carvings.
By Carolyn Patton2 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Heard the Shadows
In a quiet valley far from busy cities, there stood a kingdom famous for its beauty but troubled by a strange mystery. Every night, the villagers claimed they heard whispers near the mountains. Some said it was wind. Others said it was the voice of spirits. No one really knew. The king often tried to investigate, but his advisors dismissed everything as superstition.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Fiction
The King and the Madman
In ancient times, a kind-hearted king ruled over a small kingdom. He meant well, but he wasn’t very wise. This made him restless, because he was always searching for intelligent and capable people who could help his kingdom grow and protect it from enemies. His current advisors only gave long speeches, took their salaries, and offered nothing useful. Their empty suggestions frustrated him.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Fiction
Whispers in the Attic
I never liked the attic. Even as a child, I felt its weight from below. The narrow stairs creaked when you walked on them, and the door at the top looked older than the house itself. My parents never went up there. Sometimes I heard faint noises scratches, whispers, or maybe just the wind but the room remained a mystery.
By Kashif Wazir2 months ago in Fiction
