Young Adult

Pastel Nightmare
The Johnsons were the quintessential suburban family. Laura, her husband Mark, and their two kids, Ellie and Ben, loved going all out for the holidays. Easter was no exception. Pastel-colored eggs, garlands, and bunny decorations adorned their home every year, but this time, Laura wanted to make it extra special.
By V-Ink Stories12 days ago in Fiction
The Burrow
The Thompsons had planned their Easter weekend months in advance. A family camping trip seemed like the perfect escape from the monotony of suburbia, a chance to bond over s’mores and nature hikes. The secluded Maplewood Campground, nestled deep in the woods, promised tranquility and picturesque views. They had no idea what awaited them beneath the ground.
By V-Ink Stories12 days ago in Fiction
My Dead Father Sent Me a Voice Message at 2:13 AM — And It Exposed the Darkest Secret of Digital Immortality
The last message arrived at 2:13 AM. Not a notification. Not a call. A voice note. From my father. My hands froze. My father had been dead for three years.
By Omid khan13 days ago in Fiction
No Signal
The first thing Lorelei noticed was the sound. Not silence — she had expected silence — but a roaring, ceaseless, all-consuming noise. The surf. It came from every direction, a white static that swallowed everything else, and for a long, disoriented moment she thought she had gone deaf and the world had filled the gap with its own voice.
By Parsley Rose 13 days ago in Fiction
The Lantern in the Fog
The fog settled over the village like a blanket soaked in silence. At first it was gentle, wrapping the streets in a quiet hush. But as night deepened, it thickened into something heavier, almost alive, crawling along the cobblestones and slipping into the cracks of every home. It was not the kind of fog that simply blurred the edges of things. This fog carried a chill that touched the marrow, a weight that pressed on the heart, and whispered doubts in voices that sounded eerily familiar.
By Sound and Spirit14 days ago in Fiction
The Burned Pot. AI-Generated.
"The clock has struck three, the coffee is cold, and the shadows are beginning to speak. Welcome back to the desk of The Night Writer, where the stories are brewed in the dark."
By The Night Writer 🌙 14 days ago in Fiction
Eyes
I was seven years old the first time I got married. I remember the weight of the dress before I remember my own name. It was heavy and white and warm, like it had been waiting for me longer than I had been alive. The fabric pressed against my shoulders with a seriousness I did not yet understand. The room was filled with the aroma of flowers I couldn’t name, their scent thick and unfamiliar; and the walls seemed older than the building that held them as if the space itself had been borrowed for the occasion. There were people there. I remember that much. Their voices softened as I entered, the way voices do when something inevitable is about to happen. No one smiled too widely. No one whispered. They all seemed like a blurry memory; a background character of my story. I am even unsure of the season but I do know I wanted to hold onto the feeling and the intensity of the dream; and take it with me but I couldn’t remember everything once I woke up.
By Cadma15 days ago in Fiction
After the Storm. Top Story - February 2026.
After the storm of winter snow there sat a small bear by the name Ted, of course. He loves the snow and likes to roll around in it making all sorts of trails and whatever he has a mind to do. He wondered where all the people are, but in a way, he is hoping that they are all snug in the homes maybe drinking hot chocolate-one of his favorite drinks with mini-marshmallows and eating something homemade for he likes this winter wonderland all to himself to romp and play and maybe even catch some fish down by the river.
By Mark Graham15 days ago in Fiction
Its Been One Year
It's been one year since you left me for good, one year of heartbreak. I still live here in the house by the beach, the beach you always loved going to. I remember you used to grab my hand, while we ran along this beach as the world faded around us. You were a master with the waves making it seem you had them under your control. I haven't been back to your beach since the day you left me for good, though today I ponder going back. After some time of thinking I put on my black sandals, and put on your favorite shirt of mine, the one you said made me special. As I walk out the door onto the steps down to the beach, the memories come flooding in. Every day, every night, every special moment on this beach comes back to me. I slowly pick up the sand, twist it through my fingers as it falls back to the earth. It’s still as warm and soft as it was the first day we came here though it seems it lost its golden color the day you left me for good. I lie down making the earth my bed and sit there for what seems like hours not caring what happens next, just daydreaming you were back. That's when I saw a golden necklace in the distance, it wouldn't have been enough to get me up from my bed. But this necklace was shining a special kind of gold, I just had to see it. As I get up and dust sand off my shorts and T shirt, I realize what this necklace truly is. It's the one I gave you, the day before you left me for good. It's still got our photograph embedded inside the middle, our agreed favorite one, with the words I love you like you love the waves. I can’t believe I'm holding this in my hands, this feels like some unseen dream but this is real. It's here golden as ever just like the day I first got it for you. They said your stuff was lost, though maybe you left them to the sea, the same sea I once believed you could control.
By Christian Sanchez16 days ago in Fiction
What A Clown. Honorable Mention in Mismatch Challenge. Top Story - January 2026.
I heard of the jokester in town. My staff was afraid to share the tales, for they knew the stories infuriated me and punishment was my expertise. I inflicted many types, and excelled at using sharp objects and heated “instruments.”
By Andrea Corwin 16 days ago in Fiction
Why Does the Tooth Fairy Need Our Teeth?. AI-Generated.
I read the fairy tale "Why Does the Tooth Fairy Need Our Teeth?" on a Ukrainian website and decided to write my own fairy tale.
By Julia Lemon16 days ago in Fiction
Berganashio - Chapter 30
“We’ve almost made it back to the mountain range where the giants live!” Jovie said. She had fluttered down and was hanging onto one of the giant’s large legs. She was near Queen Finyellë now.
By Rowan Finley 16 days ago in Fiction