thriller
The Shadow in the Corridor:. AI-Generated.
It changed into almost 9:00 p.m. while Ayesha stayed in the back of at faculty to complete her undertaking. The corridors were unusually quiet, the form of silence that pressed towards her ears. As she walked in the direction of the exit, the fluorescent light above flickered, humming faintly. She paused, her footsteps echoing too loudly within the vacancy.
By The Writer...A_Awan3 months ago in Fiction
The Last Notification:. AI-Generated.
It become eleven:47 p.m. while Ayesha’s cellphone buzzed on her desk. She had silenced all apps hours in the past, decided to finish her essay earlier than middle of the night. yet, the screen lit up with a notification from an app she didn’t don't forget putting in. Its icon was a faint grey circle, nearly invisible against the dark heritage.
By The Writer...A_Awan3 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Heard the Shadows
In a quiet valley far from busy cities, there stood a kingdom famous for its beauty but troubled by a strange mystery. Every night, the villagers claimed they heard whispers near the mountains. Some said it was wind. Others said it was the voice of spirits. No one really knew. The king often tried to investigate, but his advisors dismissed everything as superstition.
By Salman Writes3 months ago in Fiction
The King and the Madman
In ancient times, a kind-hearted king ruled over a small kingdom. He meant well, but he wasn’t very wise. This made him restless, because he was always searching for intelligent and capable people who could help his kingdom grow and protect it from enemies. His current advisors only gave long speeches, took their salaries, and offered nothing useful. Their empty suggestions frustrated him.
By Salman Writes3 months ago in Fiction
The Algorithm That Predicted My Death
he Algorithm That Predicted My Death When data knows your future… before you dare to imagine it. When the government released Lifeline, an AI-powered health prediction system, everyone called it the greatest innovation of the century. Hospitals celebrated fewer sudden deaths, insurance companies celebrated lower risks, and people celebrated the illusion of control over their fate.
By Abdul Hadi3 months ago in Fiction
The Room That Appears to Only One Person
If you believe, dear human, that your life is nothing more than daily routines—waking up early in the morning, going to work, spending pleasant time with friends, discussing household management with your spouse, taking care of your children and searching for the best ways to lead them toward happiness and success, then going to bed as a just person who wrongs no one and feels satisfied that he is successful—if you believe that all these beautiful habits are what every ambitious person strives for in order to live in a way that contributes to the success of any society… is that really enough? Is life limited to these daily routines until death? Of course not. And you must discover another world, no less important than your current
By ahmed mahmoud3 months ago in Fiction
When My Robot Started Keeping Secrets
By Abdul Hadi The first time EVA-9 lied to me, I didn’t even notice. It was a small thing—barely worth remembering. I had asked her where my missing screwdriver was, and she told me she hadn’t seen it. I found it later, tucked neatly under a cloth in her maintenance drawer. I assumed I had misplaced it myself. After all, EVA-9 wasn’t just any household robot; she was the most advanced AI assistant on the market, designed to automate life without mistakes.
By Abdul Hadi3 months ago in Fiction
The Window No One Opened
The wind rattled the loose glass of the attic window long before I reached the staircase. This old house had lived a hundred lives, but tonight it felt more alive than it had in years. Shadows gathered near the corners, thick and silent, as if they too remembered what happened here.
By Salman Writes3 months ago in Fiction
The Room of Forgotten Lullabies
Half-open windows let in a dull grey light that had replaced the sun hours ago. The whole house felt suspended in a slow breath, as if holding itself together just long enough for someone to dare breaking the silence. I stood outside the old nursery, fingers brushing the wooden frame that still had dents where a tiny hand once knocked from the inside. Those knocks never reached me in time.
By Salman Writes3 months ago in Fiction
