thriller
The night everything changed. Content Warning.
As soon as I saw it, I knew what needed to be done. I left without a second thought. I ran straight into the pouring rain and was soaked within seconds. I shivered and pulled my cloak tighter, but the buttons were broken and I couldn’t close it properly. One was missing, and the rest hung from loose threads. A cold draft slipped through, the wind flowing freely.
By Minou J. Linde24 days ago in Fiction
Egg of the End
The excavation had been years in the making. Nestled deep within the sands of an isolated desert, the Temple of Aasha—the so-called “Womb of Eternity”—had long been a legend among archaeologists. Dr. Eleanor Voss and her team finally unearthed its secrets in the weeks leading up to Easter. At the heart of the temple lay the prize that would make history: an egg.
By V-Ink Stories27 days ago in Fiction
Candy Curse
Easter was always the busiest season for Mathias Grayson, the famed chocolatier of the quaint town of Willowridge. His confections were renowned—velvety truffles, delicate pralines, and his pièce de résistance: intricately molded chocolate Easter eggs filled with hidden surprises. People came from miles around to buy his creations, enchanted by their taste and beauty.
By V-Ink Stories27 days ago in Fiction
Nosferotu Zavi. Content Warning.
~ Nosferotu Zavi ~ Backstory Blog ~ Nosferotu - one of the most rebellious of Lord Zavi's children - once he was eight years old, he was always sneaking out at night, many rumors claimed he never slept in their small castle.
By Mel E. Furnishabout a month ago in Fiction
Tuesday at Six . Honorable Mention in Rituals of Affection Challenge.
Insults were her only amusement. If I were to bring anything now, it is the beauty inside me. Within. No? Don’t I bring enough? For a man, it seems not. Yet, still, there’s a bucket in my hand. No toilet that I could flush; yet, without security, I don’t bring enough.
By Caitlin Charltonabout a month ago in Fiction
Tea Time
Like every morning, Ester watched as trembling hands lifted the robin’s egg blue teapot and poured the amber liquid into a matching teacup. Louis’ hands were wrinkled, weathered, calloused from years of work. She still loved holding those hands across the small kitchen table as they talked. She remembered doing it for fifty years, the hands had changed but they felt the same. It was a good day when she could think back over the years. It was better in the mornings. The fog of sleep when she woke up lifted and she remembered his name, but in a couple hours it wasn’t guaranteed.
By Raine Fielderabout a month ago in Fiction
