thriller

The Silent Visitor
One day, a man jumped out of a box.. Suddenly, the woman's husband came home.. The woman put on makeup and powdered her all over and told her to stand in the living room and not to move....
By Rohitha Lanka10 months ago in Fiction
When the Chickens Stop Clucking
" Have you given up social work now? " " These days I am taking care of the family. " " What is that? " " Suddenly the chickens in the house have changed. There is not much talk. They are getting tired and flying around like bunnies. "
By Rohitha Lanka10 months ago in Fiction
Red rivers
My throbbing headache wakes me from my sleep. It’s 3 PM. I’m lying on my right side. Slowly, I turn onto my back and rub my eyes. Ouch. I sit up straight and slowly get out of bed. My head is pounding, causing me to lose my balance for a moment. I manage to collect myself and walk to the bathroom. I look in the mirror. I’m silent. So silent, just looking at myself. I get angry. My eyes are swollen and red. I hit the sink with my hands, step back, and put my hands in my hair, pulling at it. I let go. Enough is enough. I step into the shower. I think I was in the shower for an hour. Thinking. I’m so unbelievably angry that I don’t think I can even put it into words. Anger is an emotion I don’t usually feel easily, but my bucket is full. It’s been two months already. But it still hurts so much. The more I think about it, the more things I realize. This makes me angry again. But I’m also angry at myself. If you look at it, I did this to myself. Wait, what… No. No, that’s nonsense. I wasn’t the problem. I’m the victim. I run to my bedroom and put on the first clothes I see, grab my bag and keys, and head out. I arrive at the house. The door creaks open. Exactly as I remember. The blue door that was slammed shut so many times. I walk inside. The smell hits me. It makes me nauseous. I look at the kitchen and see the empty vase on the table. I visualize flowers in it. I shake my head. I try not to think about the memories and shake the smell off me. I have to keep going. I look at the living room, and nothing has changed in the past few months. Everything is exactly the same. I’m not surprised.
By Ames 10 months ago in Fiction
Waking Up
If you have not read part 1 and 2, please do so via the following link: By Rowan Finley: -------------------------------------
By Komal10 months ago in Fiction
Mary had a little lamb
The chapel was gone. In its place, a field of ash stretched into the gray horizon—windless, breathless, still. Mary stood at the center, her palms glowing faintly, threads of golden light weaving from her fingers into the sky. Ash knelt beside her, quiet, reverent. Sebastian… lay collapsed. His body was no longer shifting. He was no longer transforming. The wool had peeled away entirely now. His hooves were hands. His face—delicate, human, eerily angelic—stared up at her with wide, black eyes filled not with hatred… but fear. Not for her. For himself. Mary stepped toward him, her voice hoarse. “Who were you… before?” Sebastian shook his head. Ash, watching silently, finally spoke: “He wasn’t always this. You deserve to know what they did.” And then the world began to remember.
By E. hasan10 months ago in Fiction
The Town That Forgot How to Sleep
No one knew when it started. One night, the people of Elmbrook simply didn’t fall asleep. It wasn’t insomnia—no tossing or turning, no restlessness. It was as if the act of sleeping had been erased from their bodies, like a song they once knew but could no longer hum.
By Muhammad Rehan10 months ago in Fiction
The Quiet Ant
The Ant Who Carried Too Much There once lived a small ant in a thriving ant colony beneath the roots of an old tree, neither the fastest, the strongest, nor, by far, the cleverest of her kind. She did not construct the tallest towers or plow the deepest tunnels. She did not race or solve puzzles. Still, she had something lost that never, ever went away.
By Rohitha Lanka10 months ago in Fiction
The Harvest of Silence
In the secluded town of Whispering Pines, where fog lingered low and the trees whispered secrets to those who dared listen, there existed a ritual older than any written history. It was called The Harvest of Silence.
By Fawad Ali 10 months ago in Fiction
Wings of Kindness
On one fall day, a strong wind went through the woods, covering the sky with clouds, as trees were bending and flying in the gusts. The storm raged on, a crow soaring overhead, lost before it was caught on the branch of a gnarled old oak tree, shrieking as its body tumbled to the ground with one wing dragging uselessly behind.
By Rohitha Lanka10 months ago in Fiction
Through the Streets. Content Warning.
Day 1 Debra anxiously waited in a hard wooden waiting room chair. Her parents, Stacey and Marvin Taylor, sat on either side of her. Debra's demeanor was almost as dark as the sky outside. Her partial knee replacement was scheduled for 8:30 a.m. and she was nervous. It was her first major surgery, despite it being minimally invasive, and she was apprehensive going forward. A new nurse came over and informed them that a room was ready. The family followed and ended up in a semi private room. Debra was asked to remove her clothes and put on a paper robe. Before leaving, the nurse told them the doctor would be in shortly to go over the procedure. Still nervous, Debra started pacing.
By Colt Henderson10 months ago in Fiction
Melody of Chaos. Content Warning.
"The melody of chaos, Etched onto the stars, Hidden behind the clouds, Of the ever-raging storm, Ever in sync with the crashing waves,
By Rey Thorne10 months ago in Fiction
The Clock That Stopped at Midnight
It was a stormy Tuesday when Leo’s grandmother died. She had been his last family—his rock, his warmth, his bedtime stories, and the only person who believed in magic. Everyone else called her “eccentric.” Leo called her home.
By Rahul Sanaodwala10 months ago in Fiction