Fan Fiction
The City Beneath the Silence
In the northern reaches of Europe, where winter stretched long and the sky often wore a pale, endless grey, there was a small coastal town named Eldmere. To outsiders, it seemed like any other quiet settlement—cobblestone streets, flickering lanterns, and houses pressed together as if sharing secrets. But beneath Eldmere, hidden far below its ancient foundations, lay something no map had ever dared to record.
By Iazaz hussaina day ago in Fiction
The Night I Opened My Door — And Everything Changed
The knock came at 11:43 p.m. I remember the time because I had just checked my phone, hoping for a message that was never going to arrive. The apartment was quiet in that heavy way only lonely spaces can be. The refrigerator hummed. The clock ticked. My tea had gone cold beside me — a habit lately.
By imtiazalam2 days ago in Fiction
Virtual Ghost
I noticed her on my third night playing. At first, I thought she was just another NPC. The game—Eidolon Realm—was known for its realism. The characters felt alive, reacting to your choices with unsettling accuracy. But this one… this one was different.
By Mariana Farias2 days ago in Fiction
Sinking ghosts come out to play
Timelines that cross boundaries between the past and the present often fuck me up in the most random ways. I know that I’ve been here before, like this church, but I don’t quite remember how. I remember someone I used to resent that was supposed to be my friend, but he was somehow different.
By Melissa Ingoldsby2 days ago in Fiction
The Weight of a Feather
The sun hadn't yet cleared the jagged teeth of the basalt cliffs when Elias began his morning ritual. He stood before the mirror, checking the leather harness that crisscrossed his chest. It was worn supple by decades of salt and sweat. He adjusted the buckles, ensuring the iron-grey stone fastened to his small of his back was centered. It was the size of a prize-winning pumpkin and weighed exactly eighty-four pounds.
By Edward Smith2 days ago in Fiction
The Last Letter in the Attic
I hadn’t been back to my grandmother’s house in years. Not since the funeral. The place sat at the edge of town, quiet and stubborn against time, like it refused to admit she was gone. The garden had grown wild, ivy swallowing the porch railing, and the front door groaned like it recognized me when I pushed it open.
By Mariana Farias3 days ago in Fiction
