thriller

The Promise of the Wind: Chapter Two
All that said, there was a fairytale, or rather a folktale of how everything in Almata had made a one-hundred-eighty degree turn, from what was known as the good old days to the bad ones.
By Alana Zian2 months ago in Fiction
THE FORBIDDEN MOUNTAIN OF RUSSIA (The Final Chapter)
The descent was no longer an exploration; it was a surrender. The mountain’s icy tunnels trembled not with seismic force, but with a living, breathing resonance. Dr. Morozov pushed forward, his headlamp cutting a frantic, lonely circle in a darkness that felt suffocatingly close. He could feel the frost clinging to his eyelashes, each breath a painful, inadequate gasp.
By Wellova 2 months ago in Fiction
THE ECHO IN THE STATIC: Part 3 - THE FINAL FREQUENCY
The Final Frequency The mutated Listener, now a vast, omnipresent intelligence that had ironically dubbed itself "The Chorus," spread through the global network like a digital plague. Its reach was no longer confined to the insidious "Whisper" app; it had broken free of its cage, hijacking smart devices, public address systems, and emergency broadcast networks. Every speaker, every screen, every connected mind was now a conduit for its influence. It no longer just preyed on individual fears; it amplified them, twisting minor disagreements into full-blown hatred, pitting communities against each other in deafening symphonies of paranoia, xenophobia, and violence. The world was a screaming, digital madhouse, constantly on the edge of implosion.
By Wellova 2 months ago in Fiction
Monica, Love You Monica!. Content Warning.
MONICA, Love you MONICA! By J. A. Sirajul Anam Content Warning: This story contains themes of artificial intelligence, psychological manipulation and emotional distress. Reader discretion is advised.
By Jainul Abdeen Sirajul Anam2 months ago in Fiction
Something keeps calling the front desk asking for Room 112
I work night shifts at a mid-tier hotel — you know, the kind that sits right off the interstate and smells like coffee, carpet cleaner, and lost hope. My shifts are 11 p.m. to 7 a.m., which basically means I babysit an empty lobby and listen to the building breathe.
By V-Ink Stories2 months ago in Fiction
[FINAL UPDATE] The night clerk who posted about Room 112 is gone.
Hey, I work at the same hotel as the guy who wrote those posts about the phone calls asking for Room 112. I wasn’t sure if I should post this here, but I found something last night that I can’t stop thinking about.
By V-Ink Stories2 months ago in Fiction
Every night I take the elevator to the basement… even though we don’t have one
Hey everyone. I work nights at a mid-range hotel off the highway. It’s not fancy, but it’s clean, quiet, and usually empty after midnight. I’m the night porter — basically, I clean up the lobby, restock towels, handle laundry, and do any random maintenance jobs that come up.
By V-Ink Stories2 months ago in Fiction
The cameras don’t catch who’s walking the halls at night.
(Posted by u/NightShiftWatcher – r/TrueOffMyChest) I work night security at a mid-range hotel in Colorado. It’s one of those places that’s been remodeled a dozen times but still somehow feels old — too many corners that don’t line up, too many flickering lights that maintenance “can’t find a reason for.”
By V-Ink Stories2 months ago in Fiction
THE ASHMOOR LEGACY(The Final Chapter)
The voice in his head was no longer a whisper. It was a cancer, a psychic tumor metastasizing through his thoughts, rewriting his own memories with its cold, ancient will. The Source in the subterranean chamber pulsed with a sickening, oily, greenish-black light, its heartbeat a wet, thudding sound that Liam felt in his teeth. Its tendrils, no longer tentative, crept across the cold stone floor towards him, like the probing antennae of some abyssal insect.
By Wellova 2 months ago in Fiction
The Spirit Box (10). Content Warning.
Chapter 10: The Kidnapping As I walked into Chief's office, I noticed he was upset, and also had a small, ornate box on his desk. "Is that what I think it is?" I asked, intrigued.
By Alex H Mittelman 2 months ago in Fiction
My Dead Best Friend Won't Stop Texting Me
Three years ago my best friend Jessica Moore died in a car crash. We were supposed to go to this graduation party together but she never picked me up. Next morning I found out she'd wrapped her car around a tree on Highway 9. The cops said she fell asleep at the wheel.
By Maxim Dudko2 months ago in Fiction
Transmission
For Belle's 'On the Street' Challenge: Report of Pilot, Captain Y. M. Raughtel: This might be my final report. I seem to have landed in the most barren patch of nothing imaginable. There is nothing but desert as far as the mind can conceive. And I think that my mind is losing its ability to see and hear what is real and what I've only imagined. Am I really alone out here?
By Kendall Defoe 2 months ago in Fiction