Mystery
The Stranger's umbrella. AI-Generated.
It changed into a rainy nighttime in Karachi, the form of downpour that makes the streets shimmer under flickering streetlights. Ayesha had just again domestic from her university lessons, shaking off the dampness from her Stolen as she stepped indoors. Her circle of relatives’s rental was quiet, her mom resting after dinner, her greater younger brother glued to his smartphone. the whole thing regarded everyday—till she observed the umbrella.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 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
THE TEAPOT THAT KNEW MY NAME
Willowfen was the kind of village that forgot the meaning of hurry long before I was born. It sat between a river that sang softly to itself and a meadow that smelled of honey even in winter, stitched together by cobblestone lanes worn smooth by centuries of unimportant footsteps. Nothing legendary had ever happened there—no dragons, no chosen heroes, no prophecies scribbled in fading ink. Instead, Willowfen specialized in the ordinary miracles: bread that rose perfectly every morning, lamplight that glowed a little warmer when someone walked home alone, and gossip that traveled faster than the wind but never meant any harm. It was the sort of place where people waved even if they didn’t know your name, and somehow, by the end of the week, they did.
By Alisher Jumayev2 months ago in Fiction
THE SILENCE BETWEEN LATIN VERSES
Blackthorn University did not rise from the earth so much as loom over it. Its spires pierced the fog like accusations, its stone corridors soaked in centuries of whispered ambition. Founded in 1649, Blackthorn prided itself on tradition, rigor, and an unspoken belief that mediocrity was a moral failure. The walls were lined with oil portraits of scholars whose eyes followed you as you passed, their painted gazes heavy with judgment. Students learned quickly that this was not a place to find yourself—it was a place to be reshaped. Knowledge here was not neutral; it was sharp, elitist, and alive. And like anything alive, it demanded something in return.
By Alisher Jumayev2 months ago in Fiction
lost Viens:. AI-Generated.
The medical institution room turned into tiled in pale ivory squares, each one sparkling beneath the fluorescent lighting. To all and sundry else, it'd have appeared sterile, everyday. however to Mara, the tiles seemed to pulse faintly, as although they carried veins below their surface—veins that had lengthy because vanished.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
THE VILLAGE THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST
Sometimes the strangest mysteries don’t come from legends, old books, or lost diaries. Sometimes they come from satellites quietly orbiting Earth at 17,000 miles per hour — cameras clicking, grids updating, pixels shifting.
By The Insight Ledger 2 months ago in Fiction
The UFO
Millie rolled her eyes when she heard her little brother Jack knock on her door and yell her name. She was right in the middle of binging music videos on Youtube. Being interrupted was annoying, especially for what would probably be something stupid. She got up from her bed and went to the door. When she opened it, she asked, "What?" in a somewhat annoyed tone.
By Leah Flesher2 months ago in Fiction
