Fantasy

The Call That Came Before It Happened
Daniel never believed in things he couldn’t explain. Ghosts, premonitions, “signs from the universe” all of it sounded like excuses people used when life didn’t make sense.
By Farooq Hashmi33 minutes ago in Fiction
THE INVENTORY OF THE VOID:
The Great House of Carl sat atop the highest hill in the valley, a sprawling labyrinth of gilded mahogany, reinforced steel, and glass that reflected the sun so fiercely it blinded the peasants in the flats below. For generations, the Carl family didn't just live in the valley; they were the valley. They owned the stream, the air rights above the orchards, and the very shadows cast by the mountains.
By Meko James about 11 hours ago in Fiction
Lifetimes . Content Warning.
Jimmy I watch her walk out the door as Mr. Author tell her, her time is up I drink in her image one last time because I know in my soul I won't see her again. She finally disappears from my view andI break down, my whole world began and ended all at once. I know sleep won't come to me tonight so I sit down in my cell until the sunlight shines through the window burning my tired eyes as I hear footsteps echoing off the walls as I straighten my spine to see Mr. Walker appear around the corner in full military uniform as he takes a deep breath like he wanted to steak his claim on all the oxygen in the room as he says Mr. Thomas, I stand in attention trying to act like none of my confidence has wavered as I say back Mr. Walker.
By cheyenne about 19 hours ago in Fiction
Ra'ad Does Not Dwell in Time . Content Warning.
Ra'ad Does Not Dwell in Time By luccian layth Here collapses a corner of events — purely narrative, risen from the drain of our old house's gutter, seeping into the channels of a despondent city. Dark of atmosphere. Wretched to look upon. Like an old grey woman the ages have ruined, her sides ulcerated, spoiled like dried apple where worms have long since finished their work and moved on to something equally forgettable.
By LUCCIAN LAYTHabout 20 hours ago in Fiction
The silent city
t. The road ended without warning, swallowed by a thick, silver fog that seemed to breathe. I should have turned back, but something inside me whispered to keep going. Each step felt heavier, as if the air itself was watching me. Then, suddenly, the fog parted.
By Ibrahim a day ago in Fiction
The Forest That Remembered
I walked through a forest where the trees whispered names of people who had never existed. The leaves shimmered with memories that had no owner. Each step I took echoed stories untold, and I realized the forest was alive, keeping the world’s forgotten possibilities safe within its roots
By Ibrahim a day ago in Fiction
Bahlool and the Logic of the Roasted Chicken
Bahlool and the Logic of the Roasted Chicken Many years ago, when Baghdad was a bustling center for trade, an Indian businessman arrived with a large caravan full of goods. After a long journey, he stopped at a local inn to rest. Hungry and tired, he ordered a simple dinner: a roasted chicken and a few boiled eggs. However, the next morning, things got complicated. The businessman woke up early to find his caravan already moving out. He looked for the cook to pay his bill, but the cook had stepped out on an errand. Since the caravan couldn't wait, the businessman had to leave without paying, intending to settle the debt the next time he passed through.
By Amir Husena day ago in Fiction
The Whispering Key
I found an old key in the attic, carved with symbols that hummed softly. When I turned it in the lock of a forgotten door, the walls melted into a corridor of floating lights. Each door led to a world that could not be described, only felt. And in that silence, I realized reality is only a suggestion, and imagination writes its own laws.
By Ibrahim a day ago in Fiction
The Lanterns of Forgotten Dreams
In the valley where lost dreams gather, tiny lanterns float in silence, illuminating paths unseen. Travelers never know they are walking among wishes abandoned long ago. One night, I followed a flickering light, and it led me to a door that opened only to imagination. Behind it, the universe whispered secrets no one else had ever heard.
By Ibrahim a day ago in Fiction
The Clock That Writes Futures
In a forgotten workshop, a golden clock did not tick—it wrote. Every hour, it inked moments of people who had not yet lived them. I watched in awe as a story of a stranger unfolded before my eyes. By dawn, the ink vanished, leaving only a sense that time itself had smiled at me.
By Ibrahim a day ago in Fiction
The Moonlit Garden
In the moonlit garden, shadows danced like spirits. Every flower glowed softly, carrying the secrets of the night. I wandered between the glowing petals, listening to whispers that spoke of forgotten dreams and hidden hopes. For a moment, the world outside vanished, leaving only the quiet magic of this enchanted place.
By Ibrahim a day ago in Fiction
Barkcast: Chaos at the Dog Park
The golden hour had arrived in West New York, casting long, dramatic shadows across the pavement of Boulevard East. The relentless roar of the morning commute had been replaced by the heavy, exhausted grinding of the 6:00 PM New Jersey Transit buses, returning the humans from the towering glass spires of Manhattan. The air smelled of exhaust, cooling asphalt, and the salty, damp breeze blowing up the Palisades from the Hudson River.
By Baltizarea day ago in Fiction