thriller
Discipulcide
"Excellent work! Just spectacular!" Kristen Boyle's exclamation was in regards to her pupil, Tracey Goodman, who had been under Kristen's tutelage for over a week. Tracey had dreams of becoming an author; she had her first book halfway done, but that was the point where writer's block set in. She learned about Kristen via an online ad, which Tracey answered immediately, as she couldn't pass up the chance of being taught by a famous author.
By Clyde E. Dawkinsabout a year ago in Fiction
Cold-Blooded
"Hello, I am police captain Sabrina Masters. As you know, this case is personal to me, but I have spent 19 years dealing with gripping cases like this, and I see no difference here. The victim is my husband, Richard Masters, who was found dead in the bedroom. The last person to see him alive was this woman, Joyce Randall, who suddenly disappeared without a trace. If you have any information about the whereabouts of Ms. Randall, please contact us."
By Clyde E. Dawkinsabout a year ago in Fiction
Big and Bad Danger
Her footsteps moved quicker and quicker, as did her heart rate. She could her someone calling for her. "Carla..." An ominous tone that brought chills to young Carla Hood, who was donning a red hoodie to hide from sight as much as possible, but despite this, someone was coming for her...someone who had known her.
By Clyde E. Dawkinsabout a year ago in Fiction
A traveler across times
The narrator begins: My name is Adnan. I was born into a Muslim Egyptian family in a village in the south of the country, where ancient traditions intertwined with tales of bygone times. I became aware of the world when I was three or four years old, and my earliest memory is of my elder brother's wedding. I wore bright white clothes adorned with joy and played in the spacious courtyard of our house alongside my brother, who was three years older than me. At the far end of the courtyard, religious singers and musicians gathered, while barbers busied themselves preparing the groom. But they were also there for another purpose—circumcision. This ritual was performed during such occasions, not in hospitals as it is today. While I was playing, I heard a voice say, "The younger one first!" I didn’t realize they meant me until I found myself being carried toward the man who would perform the procedure. It all happened quickly amid the sounds of chants and music. I felt no pain, as if blessings enveloped me. Afterward, they carried me to the second floor, where my mother greeted me with her cheerful face, saying, “Congratulations, and may your wedding come soon.” In truth, I wasn’t circumcised then. My mother later told me I was born circumcised, insisting that angels had circumcised me. Yet, when I drift into my thoughts and memories, I feel that in another era, I had undergone circumcision in a manner different from my brother’s experience. He, being older than me, underwent the procedure as part of the same celebration and suffered greatly, fainting and causing a commotion in the courtyard. Perhaps this moment marked the beginning of my great existential questions: Who am I? I was born into a rural family. My father was a strong and respected man who owned agricultural lands worked by the villagers and those from neighboring areas. He also held a position with the police. My mother was a homemaker with deep religious upbringing, the daughter of one of the village’s prominent sheikhs who served as both a counselor and healer using the Quran. We were ten siblings—seven boys and three girls—and I was the youngest of them all. Despite the comfortable life we led, I always felt I didn’t belong to this place. A mysterious feeling of being an outsider lingered within me, as if I had come to them by an unknown fate. I saw my family as an embodiment of strength and nobility. My father was a man respected by all, yet inside me, there was a struggle I couldn’t comprehend. I often had strong opinions that my family listened to, earning me the nickname “The Sheikh of Justice.” I despised oppression and defended the oppressed, even if it meant standing against one of my siblings. I loved horses passionately; they loved me back, and no one could rival my equestrian skills. My mother had a special affection for me. She would share her stories and songs with me, trusting me with her words. I was the only son she insisted on enrolling in public schools instead of religious ones. Even my elder brother followed the same path because of me. Despite this privilege, the sense of estrangement persisted, as though I had lived another life in another time, with an old story that never left my mind. Deep within, I believed that in a distant era, I was someone else in another place, within a great kingdom. There were vast green lands, rivers, gardens, and flowers blooming year-round. I was the son of a prominent family, with noble parents, warrior siblings, and loyal servants and guards. My elder brother, three years older, and I trained in horseback riding and martial arts, receiving private education in our grand palace. But one day, disaster struck. The kingdom fell to invaders, and the defenders retreated. To protect our lives, our parents decided to send us away with a loyal servant. I vividly remember their farewell, as if they knew they wouldn’t see us again. My father told the servant, “These are your sons now. Take them to the hill and watch from afar. If we prevail, you may return. If not, they are your responsibility.” Despite our protests, the decision was final. The kind servant took my brother and me on horseback, equipped with enough money and provisions to keep us hidden until the danger passed. The journey was arduous. We traversed valleys filled with venomous snakes and scorpions and sought refuge in a cave atop a mountain. When we approached the cave, the servant entered first to ensure it was safe. Inside, he found a human skeleton near the entrance. He lit a pile of dry branches, revealing a giant lizard that he quickly killed with his sword. After ensuring our safety, we settled for the night. Before sunrise, we left the cave, heading to a valley with trees, flowers, and springs to bathe and let our horses drink. The servant had a destination in mind, but he never shared it with us. Throughout the journey, we crossed mountains and rivers and walked through enchanting forests. But fate was unkind. We were ambushed by bandits who kidnapped my brother and fled. The servant fought valiantly against the attackers but fell, drenched in his blood, after killing two of them. I was left alone with my horse and the servant’s mule carrying the provisions. Unsure where to go, I wandered through rugged paths, hoping to find my brother or escape this uncertain fate. As night fell, I rested under a massive tree with beautiful flowers, letting exhaustion take over. Suddenly, my horse’s neighing and a voice saying, “This is the one we’re looking for!” woke me up. I opened my eyes to see two familiar faces—faces resembling my current parents! After that, I saw nothing more… until I woke up in my new home, among my new family. Is this reincarnation? A dream lodged in childhood memories? Or is there a deeper secret I cannot grasp? I do not know… but to this day, I feel I have never truly belonged to this world.
By Ali Sadeek Ahmedabout a year ago in Fiction
A Digital Kuchisake-onna . Content Warning.
In the bright light of their large estate, Asumi adjusted her reflection in the mirror. She traced her finger along the faint lines beneath her eyes, dabbing them with a powder to conceal the years. Picking up a glass spray bottle, she spritzed her hair and fluffed it with a wide-tooth comb, admiring its shine. To conclude, she patted rouge onto her cheeks and slid some gloss over her lips.
By Steph Marieabout a year ago in Fiction
Who is Madison Zhao CEO Instagram
Nowadays, we are surrounded by the world of digits, where one of the principal ways through which we connect with others is with the help of social media websites. One among the prominent of these sites, Instagram, continuously evolved year by year. In the wake of growth, many people grow. Among such influencer figures stands Madison Zhao-the name of the person, in all likelihood has raised some queries for quite a few people. You may be wondering, "Who is Madison Zhao, and what's their role in Instagram's journey?
By Madison Zhaoabout a year ago in Fiction
The Secret to Creating Iconic Comics: Hire the Best Writing Services
Comics are a unique story form because they are both verbal and visual alternatives to a rich world of storytelling formats. If you are starting out as an up-and-coming artist, or perhaps you are a company looking to break into the comic book scene, then a comic writing service is your secret weapon. The trick is having the right mix of great characters, good stories, and beautiful art to make any idea a bona fide masterpiece. If you are up for it, working with a pro writing service might just be how to implement your vision into the world of comic books.
By Authors Publishing Houseabout a year ago in Fiction
