thriller

Light Starvation
FIELD NOTES — UNDATED I don’t know when I got here. Time doesn’t behave normally. My watch stopped on entry. My phone battery died before I thought to conserve it. The lights, though—those I can measure.
By V-Ink Stories2 months ago in Fiction
Someone Else’s Footsteps
RECOVERY LOG — AUTHOR UNKNOWN I don’t know who will read this. I don’t know if anyone will. I’m writing because writing fixes things in place. It gives the room's edges.
By V-Ink Stories2 months ago in Fiction
The Banyan That Whispered My Name
In India, we grow up hearing one rule again and again — “Suraj dhalne ke baad kuch jagahon par nahi jaate.” Some places are not meant to be visited after sunset.
By Gaurav Gupta2 months ago in Fiction
The Island That Refused to Stay
Lately, she has been trying to look at her life the way a stranger might. Not kindly, not cruelly. Just honestly. As if objectivity could soften the sharp edges of memory. As if stepping outside herself might make the weight easier to carry.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Fiction
The Million Dollar Paperweight
The Ferrari was red. Or at least, it used to be. Now, it was the color of the dunes. A thick, matte layer of beige dust coated the hood, turning a $300,000 machine into a ghost.
By The Quiet Hustle2 months ago in Fiction
Creep . Runner-Up in Nothing But Voices Challenge. Content Warning.
Fuck me, that was a rough shift I mean, I could if you wanted me to lol Ha ha. No, seriously. We started out with 32 on the board and patients just KEPT. CHECKING. IN.
By Sandor Szabo2 months ago in Fiction
Peas in a Pod. Top Story - December 2025.
"Hello?" "Finally! Where the fuck have you been? It’s the fifth time I’ve called!" "I’m a very busy man. I had things to do."
By Cristal S.2 months ago in Fiction
The Funeral
“Thank you. Yes, thank you. Maggie, it’s good to see you, yes, it’s a tragedy. Mr. Hall, thank you for coming. Thank you for your condolences.”
By Sandor Szabo2 months ago in Fiction
He Only Asked for a Name
The rain was relentless that night. Thunder cracked the sky open again and again, and the road ahead shimmered under the headlights like a black mirror. Zayan drove alone, far from the city, his GPS blinking uselessly before going completely dead. His phone showed No Service.
By Anas Khan2 months ago in Fiction
Broken Safe Haven - Chapter 2
Click here to read Chapter 1 The light of the morning sun gently brought Katelyn into consciousness. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, then looked around the room. In her groggy state, the mess of the room felt emotionally draining. She sighed, then forced herself out of bed. A shiver made her realize she had slept in her swimsuit. Luckily, the men who came had left her clothes, though they were scattered about the room. She changed into some jeans and a punk rock t-shirt. She also changed the bandages on her feet. They were swollen and ached from the cuts she had endured the day before. Unable to get shoes on them, she settled for a pair of brown fuzzy slippers that looked like dogs.
By Eric Boring2 months ago in Fiction
I Read My Wife’s Last Text—Three Years After Her Death
In life, there are times that divide time into two distinct periods: before and after. It is a division that is not soft and subtle, or even softly insistent. It simply is. In my story, one such time occurred three years after my wife’s passing when, one quiet evening like so many others, almost nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be about to happen. There would be no compelling sky, and there would be no meaningful calendar notation marking this event as one of specific import. It would simply be me, and my couch, and my phone—a phone I could so easily not answer.
By iftikhar Ahmad2 months ago in Fiction
The Unwanted Package:. AI-Generated.
The package arrived on a Tuesday—a day so painfully ordinary that it felt scripted. It sat motionless on my porch, wrapped in thick brown paper and bound with a coarse twine that looked as if it belonged to a different century. There was no return address, no courier stamp, and no postage marking. There was only my name, Elias Thorne, written in a cramped, shaky hand that felt hauntingly familiar.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction