thriller
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
The Price We Pay
The thing I always dreamed about, wished for, longed for, turned out to be the worst thing that ever happened to me. Unfortunately, I realized it too late. I don’t know how it happened, but in a split second I found myself standing in a church in front of the pulpit, trembling, sweat sliding down my spine.
By Amira's thoughts3 months ago in Fiction
The Whispering Heart
No one knew how old the Great Oak was, or who had first discovered its secret. The tree stood at the heart of the woods, a gnarled giant with a hollow in its trunk so large a child could crawl inside. But it wasn't empty. It was a library. Not for books, but for feelings. They called it the Whispering Heart.
By Habibullah3 months ago in Fiction
The Night the Drones Returned
The Night the Drones Returned The night was colder than usual in the small Afghan border village of Sarkha. Winter had already settled into the valley, and people were trying to sleep early under heavy quilts. But on this night, no one would rest. Shortly after 11:43 PM, the familiar and terrifying sound returned to the skies. A faint hum, a trembling vibration, a noise that every villager had learned to fear. The drones had come back.
By Wings of Time 3 months ago in Fiction
The Day Three Borders Burned
When Pakistan Faced Two Fronts Nobody expected the morning of 26 November to become the most frightening day in recent memory. Life in northern Pakistan began as usual—children preparing for school, shopkeepers opening their shutters, farmers heading toward fields still wet with dew.
By Wings of Time 3 months ago in Fiction
Day 4: Closed Circuit Walk-a-bout
I was awakened by Cornman Ron at roughly 06:10; a way of telling time takes too long in the afternoon, since he'd bother me if I wasn't perfectly pretending to be sleep. His spying yielded some reportable gains; one of them involved my events slated for me today. Such a breath to reach beyond my nostrils with such putrid air far eye-watering than I could take. I was on track to ignore the whole of him, but mentioning what post I’d be starting, the heads-up felt needed, even if I couldn’t deduce why in my fugue state. I wonder if he knew I couldn't move for the first six minutes he was talking. I could feel the tears; did he see anything off? Somehow, it had become my duty to report to him since the fire and the second and third hanging, something I wasn’t fully knowledgeable of before searching for my pants for your information. It didn’t take much to make the leap that that was his bias’s aim. Journals are—well, let me make clear the Journaling thing.
By Willem Indigo3 months ago in Fiction
The Keeper of Oakhaven Farm
His name was Jeremiah, though no one had ever called him that. He was just the Scarecrow, a sentinel of straw and old flannel, staked in the heart of the cornfield on Oakhaven Farm. His world was measured in sunrises and storms, in the planting and the harvest. But his purpose, he had come to understand, was far greater than scaring off crows. It was to watch over the family in the white farmhouse.
By Habibullah3 months ago in Fiction
[Reddit Post] Housekeeping found a room that shouldn’t exist.
Posted by u/GraveyardFrontDesk – r/NoSleep I’ve worked the front desk at our hotel for six years. It’s an older place — six floors, seventy-something rooms, built in the late ’70s and “renovated” (poorly) a decade ago. If you’ve ever worked in a hotel, you know the routine weirdness: creaky vents, drunk guests, elevators that ding for no reason. You learn to shrug most things off.
By V-Ink Stories3 months ago in Fiction
[Reddit Post] The hotel pool never reflects properly at night.
Posted by u/NightShiftClerk — r/NoSleep I’ve been working nights at the Fairbridge Suites for almost four years now. It’s not a bad gig — quiet most of the time, good pay, free coffee. I used to think the creepiest part of the job was the occasional drunk guest or flickering hallway light.
By V-Ink Stories3 months ago in Fiction
[Reddit Post] The same guest checks in every Thursday… and dies every Friday morning.
Posted by u/GraveyardFrontDesk — r/NoSleep I work the overnight shift at a small roadside hotel just outside Denver. It’s quiet most of the time — truckers, couples who don’t want their names on anything, salesmen passing through. You get used to the silence, the humming ice machine, the smell of burnt coffee, and cheap disinfectant.
By V-Ink Stories3 months ago in Fiction
Silent Night, Bloody Night
The snowstorm hit with a ferocity none of them had anticipated. Emma, Brian, Lisa, and Todd had been en route to a ski lodge for a Christmas getaway when their SUV skidded off the icy road and into a snowbank. Miles from the nearest town and with no cell service, the group had little choice but to follow a faint trail illuminated by the moonlight. It led to a remote village nestled in the shadows of the pine forest.
By V-Ink Stories3 months ago in Fiction
