Horror
The Echo of Choices. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
In 2045, the world lay in ruins — not from nuclear fire, but from nature's furious rebirth. Cities crumbled under earthquakes, coasts vanished beneath tsunamis, volcanoes blanketed the sky in ash. Humanity survived, scarred but alive, forced to rebuild from the ground up.
By Mr. Usevolod Voskoboinikov2 months ago in Fiction
Shadows In The Mirror:. AI-Generated.
The reflect had usually been regular. A rectangle of glass framed in timber, hanging quietly on the wall of Sara’s bed room. For years, it had meditated not anything greater than her tired mornings, moved quickly evenings, and the occasional smile she forced earlier than leaving for paintings. however one iciness night time, as the wind rattled in opposition to the windowpanes, the replicate commenced to alternate.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
All The World. Content Warning.
“The theatre, the theatre, what has happened to the theatre?” - Danny Kaye, “Choreography,” White Christmas 1954 -0- Legend had it that the performance I observed was the first ever recorded with omni-directional camera technology. It would go a ways to explain why the actors always held a prop of some kind. And showing true ingenuity, each prop was meticulously chosen to fit each character. Nothing ever held in their hand, or gestured with in emphasis could be called anachronistic or unfitting.
By Alexander McEvoy2 months ago in Fiction
Silent Room:. AI-Generated.
The room come to be tiled from floor to ceiling, every rectangular a light grey that regarded to swallow mild as opposed to reflect it. No home windows, no doorways seen from the inner—exceptional the faint hum of air that carried no heady scent, no warmth. It changed into a place designed to erase sound, to erase presence. A silent room.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
SHADOWS IN THE LANTERN FOG
The City That Smelled Like Regret Ravenbridge never smelled like rain. Not really. The city smelled like wet concrete, burnt oil, and the kind of smoke that curls out of closed bars at three in the morning when no one remembers what burned. Neon signs flickered in puddles of black water, distorted into eyes that watched you as you walked. The fog settled in the alleys like a warning, thick enough to make even the bravest think twice before stepping too far. I had lived here my entire life—or at least, enough of it to know that nothing in Ravenbridge existed for the good of its citizens. Everything existed for its own amusement. You could call the city alive, if you didn’t mind that it was the sort of life that gnawed at your insides and whispered when you were alone. It was the city that chewed dreams and spat out regrets, and I was one of the few who had made peace with it—or at least tried.
By Alisher Jumayev2 months ago in Fiction
Harlan’s Mill
Harlan’s Mill wasn’t much of a town anymore. Back in the seventies, when the paper mill still ran three shifts and the river stank of sulfur and money, it had been something. Folks had jobs, kids played Little League on the field behind the high school, and the diner on Main Street served coffee strong enough to wake the dead. But the mill closed in ‘89, right after the big layoff, and things just… faded. Houses sagged. Stores boarded up. People left if they could, or stayed and drank if they couldn’t.
By Jason “Jay” Benskin2 months ago in Fiction
Flash Fiction - Infestation
The day he was forcibly removed from his research position, certain words were used that could have been used as grounds for a lawsuit. Insane, unhinged, and certifiable were the pick of the bunch, but rather than lawyering up, Dr. Evan Ballinger decided to continue his work at home.
By John Watson2 months ago in Fiction
“The Door That Wasn’t There Yesterday”
Lila Morgan first noticed the door on a Wednesday morning—the kind of gray, uneventful morning that should have been incapable of housing anything extraordinary. She was padding down the hallway of her grandmother’s old house, still half-asleep, intending only to grab a mug from the kitchen cabinet. But as she passed the linen closet, she stopped.
By Kamran khan2 months ago in Fiction
