thriller
The Bench Under the Old Tree
Fifteen years. That’s how long it had been since Arman last stood at the edge of that rusted gate, staring into the park where his childhood used to live. The wind still whispered through the branches of the massive old tree in the center, just as it did on that unforgettable evening—the one where everything changed.
By Soul Pages7 months ago in Fiction
Episode 6: What Happens When You Don't Die
I didn’t scream when it bit me. That’s important. Screaming is the beginning of the end. A scream is the part of the ritual where the body decides to surrender. I didn’t. I just looked down at the half-circle of teeth still hooked in my forearm, and I thought: Oh. I guess this is how I find out what kind of story I’m in.
By Paper Lantern7 months ago in Fiction
Midnight Books & Forgotten Kisses
“Moonlight Books – Open Only from Midnight to 4 AM. No one knew who owned the place. Some said the store had no register. No cameras. Just a single keyhole and a creaky floor that remembered every step. But the shelves? They whispered. Not in words, but in warmth. The kind of warmth that touches you when a book falls open to the exact page your soul needed.
By Shakespeare Jr7 months ago in Fiction
Domino Effect
The old coffee machine in the corner of the break room at Sterling & Co. always wheezed before it dripped, a familiar, comforting sound that had punctuated countless hurried mornings. Today, it was the backdrop to Sarah’s internal battle. The quarterly reports were due in an hour, and she’d spotted a discrepancy, a small, almost negligible error in the sales figures from the North division. It was a single digit, off by a mere few thousand dollars, easily missed amidst millions.
By FlammyWrites7 months ago in Fiction
Crowding The House. Content Warning.
It started when the sun went down at nine. I was spotting some strange men outside of my house. All dressed as clowns. Out of all the damned things to be seeing this Summer, this wasn’t what I was expecting. A group of creepy ass clowns outside of my home? Never been on the list.
By Raphael Fontenelle7 months ago in Fiction
The Last Monkey of Emberwood
The sun cast golden shafts of light through the tangled canopy of Emberwood, where ancient trees whispered secrets to the wind. Few dared venture deep into the forest, and those who did rarely returned with the same light in their eyes. Emberwood had earned its reputation—not for beasts or bandits, but for something older, something no one could explain.
By Habibullah. Shoukat Ali7 months ago in Fiction
