thriller
Ra'ad Does Not Dwell in Time
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 an hour ago in Fiction
AI Interrupted
Kristin loves AI. Ever since AI became a thing, she has been on the phone or using it on her laptop, uploading photos and stories to her social media. It’s like it was made for her. It’s brilliant and perfect in her eyes. She can escape the daily grind of high school and other trivial matters thanks to AI. She spends her days creating things like an image of a goat eating at a diner with a monkey as a waiter. She proudly shows it to all her friends. Her friends seem to love the wild ideas she comes up with. They even insert their own ideas at times. Anytime there’s a new assignment due, she is thrilled because it’s an excuse to improve her AI technique.
By Meredith McLartya day ago in Fiction
The Door at the End of the Hall. AI-Generated.
The dream always began the same way. Margaret would find herself standing at the end of a long hallway — walls the color of old teeth, carpet the deep burgundy of dried blood, and a single door at the far end that seemed to breathe. Not move. Breathe. The wood expanding and contracting in a rhythm that matched her own pulse, as if the door had swallowed something living and hadn't yet finished digesting it.
By Alpha Cortexa day ago in Fiction
The Midnight Letter
It was a rainy night when Clara sat by her old oak desk, staring at the pile of unopened letters that had accumulated over the past month. Her small apartment smelled faintly of coffee and rain-soaked streets, a combination that reminded her of long-forgotten days spent in her childhood home. There was something strangely comforting about the routine of going through letters, even if most of them were bills, advertisements, or notifications she didn’t particularly care about.
By Fawad Ahmada day ago in Fiction
Imaginary Friend
Chastelin didn’t think she would fit into the small suburban neighborhood. It had given off a robotic hum of small town paradise. The kind of place where the smiles were just a little too wide, but never overly genuine. A place her wilder youth would have called a cult and yet here she was fitting right in.
By Amos Gladea day ago in Fiction
A Chain Is As Weak
I was very uneasy about the new guy. He was neurospicy. That, in itself, is certainly not a bad thing – I’m neuroseasoned myself, and my husband is definitely ensconced in the Scoville Unit area of neurospicy – but there are certain combos that scream Will Not Survive in a Post-Apocalyptal Environment.
By Meredith Harmona day ago in Fiction
L'unico: part 5
That was all, I welcome the new employees, I hope you a good journey with us and thank you.That was the speech given by Mr Tommy Shine, a deep speech and a special face that marked and moved in a weird way the emotions of Jade and awakened some strange emotions in him, a face that he didn’t know will be a life changing face forever in the near future.
By el hariti adil3 days ago in Fiction
