Alpha Cortex
Bio
As Alpha Cortex, I live for the rhythm of language and the magic of story. I chase tales that linger long after the last line, from raw emotion to boundless imagination. Let's get lost in stories worth remembering.
Stories (107)
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The Clock That Stole Time
The clock arrived in a box with no return address. Jonathan found it on his doorstep one rainy morning, wrapped in wax paper, sealed with a brittle red ribbon. No note. No explanation. Just an antique brass mantel clock with black Roman numerals and fine golden hands that trembled faintly, even when untouched.
By Alpha Cortex11 months ago in Fiction
The Last Message in a Bottle
The tide was low when Anna spotted the bottle. She almost missed it—half-submerged, caught between the rocks, glinting faintly in the last light of day. The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the horizon in hues of burnt orange and violet. She was walking along the shore as she did every evening, chasing the silence that only the sea could offer.
By Alpha Cortex11 months ago in Fiction
The Forgotten Door
The forest had always been quiet, but that day, it was still. Not a single bird called. No branches creaked. The usual rustle of squirrels and wind was replaced with something else—a silence that felt alive. Heavy. Watching. It was the kind of stillness that spoke not of peace, but of anticipation. The trees seemed to lean inward, listening.
By Alpha Cortex11 months ago in Fiction
Fear of Flying
Chapter 1: The Quiet Orders Flight Officer Thomas Merrin received his assignment in the rain. A folded letter. Three stamped words. “REPORT FOR SORTIE.” No explanation, no map—just coordinates and a time. The war didn’t need clarity anymore. It needed obedience. It needed bodies in planes and prayers in engines.
By Alpha Cortex11 months ago in Fiction
The Traveler's Journal
Chapter 1: The Map That Shouldn’t Exist It began with a book that wasn’t supposed to be there. Leona had been exploring the ruins of Astervale’s abandoned monastery when she discovered the journal. Tucked behind a crumbling wall in a sealed niche, wrapped in oiled cloth and sealed with wax, it looked untouched by time. The leather cover bore a compass rose and a single phrase etched in gold leaf:
By Alpha Cortex11 months ago in Fiction
Golden Ratio
Prologue: The Compass and the Curve When Elias found the compass, it was buried beneath a floorboard in an abandoned observatory on the edge of a forgotten forest. The building had no roof, no doors, and no records of ever existing. Time had consumed its stones and swallowed its name. The compass, however, was flawless. Polished gold. Balanced. And warm to the touch, as though it remembered being held.
By Alpha Cortex11 months ago in Fiction
The Eye on the Digital Wall
Chapter 1: Calibration The Eye went online at 03:14 a.m. GMT. There was no announcement. No system-wide notification. Just a quiet boot sequence buried inside the protocol logs of the Global Digital Oversight Network. One blinking cursor. One new process.
By Alpha Cortex11 months ago in Futurism
The Traveler's Journal
Chapter 1: The Map That Shouldn’t Exist It began with a book that wasn’t supposed to be there. Leona had been exploring the ruins of Astervale’s abandoned monastery when she discovered the journal. Tucked behind a crumbling wall in a sealed niche, wrapped in oiled cloth and sealed with wax, it looked untouched by time. The leather cover bore a compass rose and a single phrase etched in gold leaf:
By Alpha Cortex11 months ago in Fiction
Data Corruption. AI-Generated.
Chapter 1: The Glitch The chessboard flickered. It was a minor detail, barely noticeable unless you were watching carefully—which Dr. Isha Maren always did. In the Observation Lab, nothing was accidental, especially not inside Project Mnemosyne.
By Alpha Cortex11 months ago in Fiction
8th Move
Nico had never won a chess game against his grandfather. It wasn’t for lack of trying. He studied openings, memorized gambits, practiced endgames. He watched matches online, read dusty strategy books his grandfather kept on the shelf, and played against AI simulations that didn’t smile when they won. But the old man—silent, sharp, and frustratingly calm—always found a way to counter. Every move Nico made was a lesson, every loss a lecture without words.
By Alpha Cortex11 months ago in Fiction
A Silent Language
The first time Lena saw him, he was sitting alone on the park bench with a sketchpad in his lap. She passed by that bench every afternoon on her walk home, but that day something slowed her steps. Maybe it was the way the sun hit his dark curls, or how still he sat, like the world around him didn’t touch him at all.
By Alpha Cortex11 months ago in Fiction
