Fan Fiction

THE CLOCK THAT REMEMBERED ME
The clock began as an apology. Dr. Mara Ellison built it in the basement of her childhood home, beneath the creaking floorboards that still remembered her mother’s footsteps. The house sat abandoned on the edge of Greyhaven, a town that had learned to live around grief instead of through it. The neighbors said the place was cursed. Mara called it unfinished business.
By Alisher Jumayev2 months ago in Fiction
Amo Te Semper
The cobweb stretches across the door like it alone holds the room closed, a testament to how long it has succeeded. Yet, a web is nothing more than an illusion of time. It could be a century old, or only a day. I know precisely how long it has been since anyone last crossed this threshold.
By Luna Vani2 months ago in Fiction
The Rooms Between
She enters the room. The door has always been there — unpainted wooden panels, a brass knob, no keyhole — standing between her bedroom and the bathroom every morning and every evening, and yet she cannot remember if she has ever stepped inside.
By LUNA EDITH2 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker’s Window
Every town has a place where time moves a little differently. In Briar Hollow — a quiet valley town with more trees than people — that place was Harlon’s Clock Shop.
By Zidane2 months ago in Fiction
Japan's Stand Against the Unknown Quake
Japan has long been known as a country shaped by discipline, preparedness, and unshakable resilience. But in this fictional account, the nation faces a new kind of threat a mysterious seismic pattern that behaves unlike anything ever recorded. What follows is a story of rapid action, national unity, and the strength of a nation that refuses to stand still.
By Akmal95Jr2 months ago in Fiction
The Halazia Chronicles - Chapter 2
Spring had come quietly to the Han River. Not the bright, loud kind. The kind that arrived in small changes Wooyoung only noticed because he spent so many evenings here.
By Guia Nocon2 months ago in Fiction
DAUGHTER OF THE UNBROKEN THREAD
In every version of the old myths, the Fates are three: Clotho spins, Lachesis measures, and Atropos cuts. Three sisters weave the destiny of gods and mortals alike.
By Alisher Jumayev2 months ago in Fiction
THE IRON SILHOUETTE
The Eastbridge River had seen many things—mostly the wrong things—but nothing like the night Luca Varrano’s body floated to shore.
By Alisher Jumayev2 months ago in Fiction
THE LAST SANCTUARY OF NEON SKY
No one alive remembered the real color of the sky. Official history, as recorded by the Ministry of Perspective, stated that Earth’s atmosphere had always shimmered in neon hues—pulsing blues, electric greens, and streaks of violent pink that twisted like serpents across the heavens. Anyone who questioned it was, by definition, “Factually Distorted,” and removed for “Cognitive Rehabilitation.”
By Alisher Jumayev2 months ago in Fiction
THE QUIET WOMAN ACROSS THE HALL
I first noticed her on a wet Tuesday morning, the kind of morning when the city felt permanently exhausted. She stood in the narrow hallway of our apartment building, staring at the wall as if deciphering invisible handwriting. A pale woman, tall and thin, with dark circles under her eyes that suggested she hadn’t slept in days.
By Alisher Jumayev2 months ago in Fiction
When We Found the Sky Again
The first day the sun returned to Crestfall Valley was the day Aiden met Liora. For ninety-three days, the valley had been swallowed by winter fog — a thick, silver curtain that dimmed every morning and turned every night into a blur of shadows. The people of Crestfall called it the Long Haze, the kind of phenomenon that only happened once every few decades. Crops froze, windows stayed closed, and most folks kept their heads down, counting the days until the sky reappeared.
By Zidane2 months ago in Fiction
Broken Wings
Sasha "Sash" Torres stared at her phone, heart hammering in her chest. The news flashed across the screen—Mara "M" Williams found dead in alley, overdose suspected. The words hit like a physical blow, and she felt the room tilt around her, the floor beneath her feet becoming a distant memory.
By Aarsh Malik2 months ago in Fiction