Sudais Duranky
Bio
i am a story writer.
Stories (4)
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The Girl Who Kept the Sea
The village of Marrow Bay had always lived by the sea. The sea fed it, carried its boats, cooled its summers, and sang against its cliffs at night. Every family in the village had some story tied to the water—a grandfather saved from a storm, a mother who swore she heard singing beneath the moon, a child who found silver shells after dreaming of them first. For Liora, who was fourteen and restless as windblown grass, the sea was more than part of life. It was the only place where her thoughts grew quiet. She spent hours on the black rocks below the cliff path, watching waves collapse into foam and gulls slice the sky like scraps of torn paper.
By Sudais Durankyabout 13 hours ago in Longevity
The Clockmaker’s Secret
In the narrow village of Alder Row, where every house leaned a little as though whispering to its neighbor, there stood a tiny clock shop at the very end of the street. Its windows were crowded with ticking things—gold pocket watches, carved cuckoo clocks, tiny brass timepieces shaped like moons and swans. The shop belonged to an old man named Mr. Vale, who had hands so steady that people said he could repair time itself if it ever broke. Most laughed when they said it, but Nico, a quiet thirteen-year-old who delivered bread each morning, never laughed. He believed there was something unusual about the shop, especially because the clocks inside never seemed to agree with the rest of the world.
By Sudais Durankyabout 13 hours ago in Art
The Last Lantern in Briar Glen
At dusk, lanterns bloomed along the crooked streets like golden flowers. They swung from porches, shop signs, and shepherd hooks beside garden gates. They glimmered in windows and bobbed in the hands of late travelers crossing the old stone bridge. Even the great clock tower at the center of the square held a lantern behind each of its four faces, so that the village seemed wrapped in a soft amber heartbeat all through the night.
By Sudais Durankyabout 13 hours ago in Fiction
The Phone Call at 3:17
Adil never believed in ghost stories. He considered them exaggerated tales people told to entertain themselves on dark nights. Living alone in a small apartment on the outskirts of the city, he enjoyed the silence. His routine was simple—work during the day, dinner at night, and sleep before midnight. Nothing unusual ever happened in his life, and he preferred it that way.
By Sudais Durankya day ago in Horror
