Fan Fiction

Seeking The Facts Behind a Myth
Each individual alone judges what they have faith in from what life has taught them. Faith arrives when there is an interplay between mind and body, that forms a strong framework laid on strong foundations. Faith that information, from something larger that can transcend to the depth of the heart and enhance a spirit with confidence in a soul that sees past blindly believing in the causes of wars fought in the name of religious idealism or a way of life that imposes restrictions based on race, caste or the gender one is born into, often stems from the dignity of science, church and community. Through the nature of alchemy, astrology and theory, the brain sorts through what is repressed, unknown or ignored then disassociates preconceived ideas to bring honor and respect to the dead.
By Katherine D. Grahamabout 3 hours ago in Fiction
The Morning My Reflection Disappeared
I thought it was just another Saturday. Alarm at 7:00 a.m., the tail end of some weird dream I’d already forgotten, and that familiar battle between “I could sleep more” and “I’ll hate Monday if I do.” I stuck to the plan, got up, stretched, and let the sunlight hit my face like it always does on weekends.
By abualyaanartabout 8 hours ago in Fiction
The Choices of Silence
Elena had always believed that life demanded action, yet she found herself frozen most of the time. Standing at the edge of the crowded café, she watched strangers talk, laugh, and argue. Their voices blended into a constant hum, a symphony of choices she had never dared to make.
By storiesabout 10 hours ago in Fiction
Shadows of the City
The city never truly slept. Even in the dead of night, the streets pulsed with life, muted and distant, like a dream vibrating just beyond reach. I walked through them, the soles of my shoes clicking against cracked pavement, my shadow stretching long and thin under the flickering streetlights.
By storiesabout 10 hours ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker of Alderwyn
In the quiet northern European town of Alderwyn, time seemed to move differently. The town rested between a dense forest and a cold silver lake, its narrow cobbled streets twisting between stone houses that had stood for centuries. At the very center of Alderwyn stood a tall clock tower, older than any building in town. No one knew exactly who built it, but every citizen depended on its steady ticking.
By Iazaz hussainabout 15 hours ago in Fiction
The Midnight Alley: The Boy Who Called His Killer “Dad”
Lightning cracked overhead as Detective Lena Carter’s boots splashed through the rain-slicked alley. The call had come just moments ago—a child was hurt, and the storm didn’t care. Narrow walls of brick reflected the flickering light from a struggling streetlamp, puddles trembling under each flash. On the wet ground lay a boy, twelve years old, eyes wide in final surprise, blood glimmering in crimson streams across the cracks beneath him. Clutched in his small, trembling fingers was a soaked scrap of paper. Carter leaned close, throat tight: the letters D_A_ smeared by rain.
By imtiazalama day ago in Fiction
Is Saad Punjwani About to Get Married? A Mysterious Instagram Post Sparks Curiosity
A single Instagram post is sometimes enough to start a wave of curiosity online — and that is exactly what happened when Pakistani technology entrepreneur Saad Punjwani suddenly appeared on Instagram after years of silence.
By Jon B. Carroll3 days ago in Fiction
The Woman Who Outstayed the Rain
The sky over the city was not just grey; it was a heavy, suffocating blanket of bruised charcoal. The rain had been falling for a month—a relentless, rhythmic drumming that seemed to wash away the colors of the world. At the corner of the most forgotten street stood Peggy. She was a doddery, fragile figure, looking like a piece of parchment paper that had been left in the sun for too long, now being soaked until it was translucent.
By Noman Afridi3 days ago in Fiction
An In-Depth Story Inspired by Gone Girl
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By Ibrahim Shah 4 days ago in Fiction
Echoes of Resistance
The streets of Bristol were alive that day, though not with the usual hum of buses and chatter, but with the heavy pulse of voices that demanded to be heard. I had not intended to join the protest—I came to observe, to write, to bear witness—but once I stepped into the swell of people, the energy was impossible to ignore. The banners waved above heads, each one a story, a demand, a prayer. The scent of rain-soaked asphalt mixed with the faint tang of chalk from hastily scrawled messages, leaving the air electric.
By imtiazalam4 days ago in Fiction
With Her Final Breath, My Mother-in-Law Revealed a Secret That Changed Everything
The hospital room was quiet except for the soft beeping of machines and the faint sound of rain tapping against the window.
By imtiazalam4 days ago in Fiction
The Shape of the Law From the Man of the Mountain
The man from the mountain did not come down shining but that was how people told it later, after years had worn the terror smooth and made a lantern of him in memory. When I first saw him descending through the dusk, he looked like someone who had been pulled through the inside of a storm and returned only in part. Dust clung to the hollows of his face. His robe was split at the shoulder. His mouth moved once before sound came out as if speech had been thinned by the height and had not yet thickened again in the air below; still the people surged toward him. They always did when fear and hope wore the same face.
By Cadma4 days ago in Fiction