Fan Fiction

THE CONE
The night was hot and overcast, the sky red-rimmed with the lingering sunset of midsummer. They sat at the open window, trying to fancy the air was fresher there. The trees and shrubs of the garden stood stiff and dark; beyond in the roadway a
By Faisal Khan2 months ago in Fiction
THE JILTING OF JANE
As I sit writing in my study, I can hear our Jane bumping her way downstairs with a brush and dust-pan. She used in the old
By Faisal Khan2 months ago in Fiction
The Phone Call That Came After the Funeral. AI-Generated.
The voicemail arrived at 6:12 p.m., three days after the funeral, while Mara was standing in the kitchen deciding whether grief counted as an excuse for cereal at dinner.
By faheem akbar2 months ago in Fiction
🕯 The Lamp That Stayed On
The lamp had been on for so long that no one remembered when it was first lit. It stood in the corner of the living room, near the window that looked out onto Willow Lane. Its shade was a soft yellow, slightly tilted, with a thin crack along the rim that caught the light in a gentle way. At night, when every other house on the street went dark, the lamp continued to glow.
By Zidane2 months ago in Fiction
💐 The Space Between Applause
Weddings have a strange gravity. They pull people together who would never otherwise cross paths. Old friends, distant relatives, coworkers dragged along out of obligation. Everyone dressed slightly better than usual, everyone pretending not to check their phones during the vows.
By Karl Jackson2 months ago in Fiction
✈️ The Terminal That Wouldn’t Let Go
The airport clock said 11:47 p.m., but time had stopped behaving like time hours ago. Every screen glowed the same word in different fonts and languages. CANCELED. It stacked down the departure boards like a quiet chant. New York. Chicago. Denver. Paris. Tokyo. Gone. All of them gone, grounded by a storm that had rolled in from nowhere and refused to move on.
By Karl Jackson2 months ago in Fiction
OPERATIONAL MANUAL: 'COLD CASE' PROTOCOLS
If you are reading this paper under the dim streetlamp, it means you are still conscious. The bottle of Scotch in your hand is almost empty. That is good. You need to sedate yourself.
By Fathi Jalil2 months ago in Fiction
The Christmas We Forgot to End. Content Warning.
December descended like a thief in snow, wrapping the small town of Ashwood in a cloak of white. For Emma, it was the kind of winter that smelled like fresh cookies and forgotten dreams. She’d spent the morning baking with her grandmother, the same rituals they’d performed every year since she was a child – sugar cookies cut into stars, hot cocoa laced with nutmeg, the scent of orange and clove wafting from the simmering potpourri.
By LUNA EDITH2 months ago in Fiction
The Doorbell That Rang Once More 🛎
The doorbell had not rung in eleven years. Not once. It sat beside the front door of the narrow house on Brookfield Road, its small metal button dulled by weather and time. Dust gathered around its edges. A spider once tried to build a home beneath it, but even the spider eventually left, as if sensing there was nothing left to announce.
By Zidane2 months ago in Fiction
How We Stay Lit
Winter arrives without apology. It closes its hands around the hours, tightens the air until even silence shivers. The world grows careful. Footsteps soften. Voices lower. Everything essential learns how to last. In this season, warmth is no longer loud. It does not roar or demand attention. It survives in fragments— a candle steady on the sill, its flame no bigger than a thought, yet brave enough to stand against the dark. That small light gathers the room gently, pulling shadows closer, teaching them how to rest. It does not banish the cold. It negotiates with it. Small heat lives in the pause between breaths fogging the window, in the way hands linger around a cup long after the tea has cooled. It hums quietly in wool scarves, in coats that still remember yesterday’s body. There is warmth in presence, too— a shoulder leaned into at a bus stop, a shared silence that does not need words. Two breaths syncing, creating a fragile pocket of mercy inside the frost. Winter compresses the world, but small heat resists by expanding inward. It teaches patience. It teaches listening. It teaches that survival is not always grand— sometimes it is careful and deliberate, a decision made again and again to stay lit. A lamp left on in an empty room becomes a promise. A quiet reminder that someone will return, that absence is temporary, that darkness does not own the final word. How we stay lit is not by overpowering the cold, but by softening its edges. By holding space for gentleness when the season insists on hardness. And when spring finally loosens winter’s grip, it will not remember the storms first. It will remember the lights that stayed on. The hands that held. The flames that refused to go out.
By Awa Nyassi2 months ago in Fiction
The Second Sunset Protocol
Kaleb dropped the wrench. It hit the metal bench with a clatter that echoed too loud in the empty bay. He dragged a sleeve across his forehead, smearing black hydraulic fluid into his sweat.
By The Quiet Hustle2 months ago in Fiction
Gentle & Healing
We learn how to care for others, how to show compassion, patience, and understanding—yet when it comes to our own hearts, we become harsh critics. Healing begins the moment we decide to speak to ourselves with kindness instead of judgment. Gentleness is not weakness. It is strength wrapped in softness. It is choosing peace over pressure and progress over perfection. ealing Starts With Awareness Many emotional wounds are not visible. They live quietly in our thoughts, shaped by past disappointments, unmet expectations, and words that once hurt us. Often, we carry these wounds without realizing how deeply they influence our daily lives. Healing begins when we become aware of our inner dialogue. Ask yourself: How do I speak to myself when I fail? When I feel tired? When I fall behind? If your inner voice is critical or unforgiving, it may be time to replace it with gentler words—words that heal instead of harm.
By Awa Nyassi2 months ago in Fiction