thriller

Wednesday, October 24th, 2012
The courtroom in Kenosha County was brightly lit through the large row of windows along the Southern wall of the building. The antique wooden pews, wooden wall paneling and trim were all faded from many years of use. There was a musty smell that reminded Anton of the loft in his biological father’s garage, were he kept his stash of PlayBoy magazines. Unfortunately, that peaceful familiar aroma was being overpowered by the stench of body odor and weed radiating from the younger guy about ten feet away.
By Anton Mathias Heft 3 months ago in Fiction
Tuesday, October 9th, 2012
“May I speak to Anton Heft, please,” requested the professional voice over the phone. Anton was finishing up another roof for Steve when the phone rang. He was in a filthy pair of ripped-up blue jeans that looked as though they’d been through several years worth of roof jobs. His filthy tank top was rolled and tied around his forehead like Jim McMahon’s headband. The combination of the dirt, humidity and roof tar smeared various shades of black and gray all over his body and clothes.
By Anton Mathias Heft 3 months ago in Fiction
The Silent Climb
In a peaceful village nestled between vast hills and serene lakes, lived a boy named Ayan. He was known for his quiet nature, yet his mind was bursting with dreams. Unlike his peers who were satisfied with routine, Ayan longed for adventure, exploration, and achievement—all synonyms of the ambitions he nurtured silently.
By meerjanan3 months ago in Fiction
The Silent Climb
In a quiet village nestled between green hills and calm lakes, there lived a boy named Ayan. He was quiet by nature, often seen sitting under the old fig tree with a faraway look in his eyes. While others played, he would sketch mountains, write in his worn notebook, and stare at the peaks beyond the horizon.
By meerjanan3 months ago in Fiction
The Lantern in the Attic
There was a house on the edge of the village that no one spoke of, not unless the wind was still and the night felt too long. It stood at the top of the hill, half-hidden by ivy and time, its windows clouded with dust, its porch sagging under the weight of years. The other children said it was cursed. They claimed they’d seen shadows where there should be none, heard laughter when the house had been empty for decades.
By meerjanan3 months ago in Fiction
The Window That Waited
In a quiet corner of the city, where the traffic never quite quieted and the buildings leaned into each other like old friends, stood a weathered apartment block with peeling paint and a rusted fire escape. It wasn’t grand or new, but it had stood for decades, holding stories in its walls.
By meerjanan3 months ago in Fiction
The Silent War the World Is Already Fighting
The Silent War the World Is Already Fighting When people think about war, they imagine soldiers, tanks, and explosions. But today, some of the most dangerous battles are happening quietly—without gunfire, without borders, and often without the public even noticing. This is the age of cyber warfare, and it has already changed how nations compete for power.
By Wings of Time 3 months ago in Fiction
𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖙 𝕺𝖋 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒
Intruduction I wrote a haiku based on this painting, which you can read here I thought it deserved a story as well. I found it on The Enchanted Booklet here:
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 3 months ago in Fiction
The Prison That Didn’t Release Its Dead
Chapter 1: The Sentence Eternal Blackridge Maximum Security Facility, perched on the barren cliffs of northern Maine, had a reputation whispered among inmates across the country: once you entered, you never truly left. Not even in death.
By HearthMen3 months ago in Fiction
Blackridge: Cellblock Silence
Chapter 1: The Scream That Wasn’t Blackridge Penitentiary sat like a concrete scar on the frozen hills of northern Connecticut, its walls gray and unyielding under the January 2026 sky. Maximum security, supermax wing—Cellblock D, where the worst of the worst were kept in permanent isolation. No visitors, no yard time, no sound but the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional clang of a tray slot.
By HearthMen3 months ago in Fiction
Silence. Top Story - June 2024. Content Warning.
I don’t remember the day the world ended. But I do remember the day I noticed. That photo was it, but I did not know what it meant until I sat in my darkened bathroom, staring at the newly developed film. The street was neither empty, nor abandoned. It was dead. The colours of the flowers wrapped in that red ribbon caught my eye, and as I crouched to take that photo, I could hear only the lonely silence of a graveyard after dark.
By Alexander McEvoy3 months ago in Fiction
THE REMARKABLE CASE OF DAVIDSON'S EYES
I. — The transitory mental aberration of Sidney Davidson, remarkable enough in itself, is still more remarkable if Wade's explanation is to be credited. It sets one dreaming of the oddest possibilities of intercommunication in the future, of spending
By Amelia Miller3 months ago in Fiction