Holiday
Moon’s Gift to the Blind Girl
Elara’s world was not dark. People called her blind, but that was their word, born from their own fear of the absence of light. Her world was built of sound and scent and texture. The rough bark of the old oak was a story of strength. The scent of rain on dry earth was a complex symphony. But the one thing that remained an abstract concept was the Moon.
By Habibullah5 months ago in Fiction
The Devil’s Revenge
Three Halloweens had come and gone. The Devil was ready it was time for revenge. He had been sifting through the ashes of Devil’s Manor and had been able to renew enough of the house to give him the will power to go on. However he was hungry and he needed to feed on blood before his big debut on Halloween. Oh, yes you betcha he was ready and chomping at the bit.
By Rasma Raisters5 months ago in Fiction
The Sound of Rain That Never Falls. AI-Generated.
No one in Hollowbridge could remember the last time it had rained. The clouds gathered every evening, dark and heavy, but no drop ever touched the ground. People called it The Dry Storm, a strange curse that made thunder echo but never bless the soil.
By shakir hamid5 months ago in Fiction
UPDATE: The hotel laundry that runs itself after midnight
Hey everyone, It’s been about a week since my last post. I honestly didn’t plan on updating — I thought maybe I’d just scared myself too much, or imagined half of it. But things have gotten worse. Way worse.
By V-Ink Stories5 months ago in Fiction
[FOUND FOOTAGE UPDATE] About that hotel laundry post… the one that ran itself after midnight
Hey, I didn’t think I’d ever post here, but this feels important. I work at the same [REDACTED] Inn the last guy posted about — the one with the laundry that supposedly “runs itself after midnight.”
By V-Ink Stories5 months ago in Fiction
What's Wrong with Jack
I gather my sisters for our annual fall ritual. Just three single pumpkin spice girlies getting lost in a corn maze, eating cider donuts, and bumping along on a hayride to the pumpkin patch. We search for a healthy specimen that’s perfectly round with no blemishes and the complexion of a traffic cone. Eventually we find him. He’s large enough to carve, but light enough to carry back to our wagon.
By Leslie Writes5 months ago in Fiction
Devil’s Manor
Fall had come to Oakdale in all of its colorful glory. The town of 1,000 people lay in a sheltered valley. Entering the town you came in past the brand new shopping center and once having driven all the way down Main Street you left the town driving past a large hill with an eerie looking mansion upon it. There was no drive to reach the house oddly enough but there were steep stone steps leading up to it. One could also go straight up the side of the hill. It stood there looking down upon the town and the people living there silent, shuttered and still. It had been that way for a good number of years it had even withstood the turn of the century.
By Rasma Raisters5 months ago in Fiction
The Ink of Fate. AI-Generated.
The sun hung low over the crooked trail that wound up the side of Mount Aster, its orange glow spilling over the sharp rocks and whispering pines. On a small ledge halfway up stood a wooden stall, barely held together by rusted nails and hope.
By Ghanni malik5 months ago in Fiction
The Star That Disappeared — A Story About Choices and Redemption. AI-Generated.
The Star That Disappeared — A Story About Choices and Redemption There was once a boy whose laughter could light up even the darkest nights. His name was Adam, and among his friends, he was known as the star. Not because he was perfect, but because his spirit shone brighter than anyone else’s. He dreamed big, helped everyone, and believed that every choice could shape a better future.
By Sultan Alkhyeli5 months ago in Fiction
The hotel laundry has been running itself after midnight
I work laundry for a mid-range chain hotel — the kind with fake marble floors, “continental breakfast,” and carpets that smell faintly like wet dog no matter how often they’re shampooed. My shift’s usually 4 p.m. to 1 a.m., but I’m often the last one here. Nobody wants to be the person closing down the laundry room at night.
By V-Ink Stories6 months ago in Fiction
