Loosing someone forever that drives you mad. Knowing you were more than friends but less than lovers.

We met each other when we were 12. Though, he was closer to 13 than I was. Instantly, we fell in love. Or say-what we thought was love.- Out story began at a young age; but ended when he died because no one cared about his feelings, not even me. Was it my fault? I began digging deep into what our relationship was and looked over all the missed signs of depression. He cared about me and I was selfish. But was I? Did I really not care about him at all?

Izzy never was the competitive type. Standing 5 feet 2 inches tall, with short mousy brown hair and chunky dark rimmed glasses.  A girl in her mid thirty's with multiple talents and multiple personalities and a huge case of imposter syndrome. She was frozen inside. The last thing she needed was a dead body being found at the local grocery market that day. Through all of her therapy sessions, her work to integrate her multiples, she couldn’t put a name to it but someone, something was always lurking around the corner to point a finger at her for something she didn't do. Her therapist called it paranoia. Izzy called it intuition. Thinking about it too much made her feel sweaty and anxious and her heart would race as the nausea set in. She heard Tae giggle in her ear. Not again she thought. Not again..

This is a fake game of bugsnax that starts from a package to a Journey to stop what he started. An apocalyptic world of bugsnax.

What is the river of emptyness? Why is it written as emptyness instead of emptiness? All answers are found here but all new questions flows from here too.

A lost child? A crazy person? Who keeps yelling "MOM"? This is a short story that can be taken in a few ways, is it about how long it will take before you just ignore what's bothering you? Or is it about with time the answer will reveal itself? Let me know what you got out of this story, I am open to tips with writing also this is my first story ever posted.

The crown lay in the dirt, its black thorns coiled like serpents, humming with memory. When his fingers brushed the metal, a vision tore through him— a throne of bone, a mirror screaming, and his own voice shouting, “Run.” And then the voice came, calm and cold: “If you wear the Hollow Crown… you don’t come back.”

Her phone rang with her own number flashing on the screen. When she answered, her voice whispered from the other end: “Don’t go near the mirror.”

In the quiet solitude of the late-night supermarket, the fluorescent lights hummed a steady rhythm, casting stark shadows across the gleaming floors. The aisles were mostly empty, the shelves towering like silent sentinels, holding their stock in neat, orderly rows. The candy-colored packaging and glossy labels were a stark contrast to the muted palette of the store's more mundane offerings. Only a few shoppers remained, their carts echoing through the Then she finds a peacock quill in a small box and She was let on a journey of “the trials of the deserted islands”

This is the first chapter of the story. It is literally just John and Andrea arriving at Frank and Annie's house and bickering.

Her daughter received a music box from a distant relative. It only played at night—and never the same tune twice. One night, it played her name.

The roots recoiled as he brushed them aside, revealing the stone slab buried beneath centuries of silence. A single word was carved there—etched deep, as if to wound the world itself: RHYNE. He whispered it before realizing. And the forest heard. The sigil on his palm flared crimson. The wind screamed through the trees. And from beneath the roots, something slithered forth—pale, eyeless, and bowing. “The forgotten prince returns…” it hissed. But he wasn’t ready to wear that name again.

She was only supposed to drive ten minutes. But the road wouldn’t end. And the longer she drove, the louder the breathing got—from the backseat.

Maya has a gift—five minutes a day to rewind time. But when she walks into a convenience store and finds a gun to her head, she’s already used her power... to save a coffee mug. What follows is a tense, emotional journey through split-second decisions, past mistakes, and the power of doing the right thing—when there's no going back. A thrilling short story about time, choices, and redemption.

He awoke choking on ash—no name, no past, only a brand burning into his palm like a forgotten vow. The forest whispered in a language older than speech. Trees leaned in as if listening. And before him stood a figure in gray, its face a mask of porcelain, cracked where a mouth should be. When the shard of mirrored glass floated before his eyes, it showed him a memory not meant to return: “Seal the gate. Bury the names. If I ever return—kill me first.” And then the voice came. You are Veilborn. The breach begins with you.

He moved into a new house and found an old TV left behind in the attic. It only plays static—until 3:33 AM, when something starts talking back.

Her window was stuck open just a crack. But every night, she swore something was staring in—from the third floor. She lived on the second.

Every night, the same sound. At the same time. The same door. But no one lives in 6 B. Or so they say.

“You best keep away from that thing.” He warned. “He’s not what he used to be, and his hunger is never satisfied. The last thing that you want is that monster staring into your soul. He consumes. He eats, and eats, and eats. Damn thing isn’t human anymore, an encounter with him will leave you a shell of a man.”

Liam, a seasoned tracker, ventured into Blackwood Forest to document a rare fungus but instead encountered an unnerving silence. As twilight deepened, he discovered a mysterious, pulsating azure glow emanating from a circular pit in the forest floor. This strange luminescence swallowed everything, including a pebble he tossed in, and absorbed all sound, creating an unsettling void around it. The pit also emitted a low, resonant hum that Liam felt deep within his bones, making the air around it feel unusually clean and metallic. Fascinated yet unnerved by the unearthly phenomenon, Liam attempted to photograph the pit, but his camera struggled to capture its intense glow. Despite the inherent risks and the sheer impossibility of the situation, his curiosity ultimately overpowered his apprehension. He secured a rope to a sturdy oak and, with a deep breath, lowered himself into the swirling, warm, and comforting azure light, disappearing into the unknown depths of the glowing pit.