Horror
“An Apple a day..”
No one could remember when the apples became part of daily life. They began appearing in office kitchens, arranged neatly in bowls beside the coffee machines as though they had always belonged there. Someone must have brought them in, but no one claimed responsibility. It felt like a harmless health trend, another small correction in a culture that was always trying to improve itself.
By Natasha Collazo11 days ago in Fiction
Endless Memories
Based on the Endless Memories Server for Endless Online Chapter One – Tutorial Island In the beginning Merlina had been skeptical of playing a virtual reality version of her favorite mmorpg Endless Memories, but as she created her character she compared how the different hair styles actually felt. This simulation was made to be realistic. Players could feel, taste and smell their way through the whole game. She picked a long hair style and made her hair purple. The bedroom she spawned in when she signed in seemed comfortable. There was a chest she spotted as soon as she signed in. Opening the wooden container she found a dagger. She was completely naked except for underwear and a bra. There was no option to take the bra or underwear off. Of coarse. What kind of admin would want players streaking everywhere you might ask? Ahem. Well that was enough of that idea Merlina thought as she remembered something she'd perhaps not want to mention in this story. She passed by a bathroom and pondered on the fact that she wouldn't have to use it while playing this game since she they put all players in an underwater virtual reality chamber to make the game work properly. She wasn't sure how it all worked, because they put her to sleep to hook her body up properly to the artificial intelligence. Players had to make it to level thirty before they would be allowed to logout. They did explain that as she signed the agreement, but she thought nothing of it since she had made it to level thirty before. How hard could it be right?
By Eris Willow11 days ago in Fiction
The Baby in the Break Room
At 9:00 a.m., the siren sang its polite two notes—ding, ding—and the building returned its practiced silence. Mara set her mug on the corner of her desk where the ring stain had been carefully outlined with a thin strip of tape. She’d done it on her first day, back when she thought it mattered.
By Flower InBloom12 days ago in Fiction
Made for Love. Content Warning.
2086 — Tokiton, Eurasia. I open my eyes for the very first time. I take a look around. I can assume I am at a laboratory — pale white walls, big screens emitting blue light while displaying codes all over, at least five holo-boards with calculations written on them. And many, many silvery robot arms like a spider queen hovering above my face. What's a spider?
By Carolina Drouven15 days ago in Fiction
The Forest That Waits
She frowned at the ground around her. Surely there had been a trail just seconds ago; she had been following something to be this deep in the Forest. But now only sparse patches of dirt showed between thick tangles of weed and bracken, and she could neither find the path nor entirely remember if there had ever been one. A slow unease crept through her. She had come here for a reason. Hadn’t she? Everyone knew entering the Forest was a terrible idea. She was certain she had believed that once. Or had she? There had been a Before. She felt it faintly — lines carved into the ground, walls made of trees but not of trees, voices carried on wind instead of leaves. Something important hovered just out of reach. She gasped. “Ezra!” The name struck like lightning. She ran. Branches scraped her arms as she pushed forward, heart pounding, breath tearing from her chest. No need for a trail now. She remembered the child running — small footsteps disappearing into green shadow, laughter turning to silence. “Ezra!” The word burned in her throat. Not the first time she had shouted it. Her aching legs told her she had run for miles. Her drifting thoughts suggested she had been running longer than a day. The Forest did not answer. A clearing opened before her, sudden and perfect. She stumbled into it and fell to her knees, gasping. The air felt different here — too still, too calm. She sat where she had fallen, trying to gather fragments of memory. A town. A home. Raised voices. The child running. Running into the Forest. She squeezed her eyes shut. In stories, clearings brought answers. She wanted very badly to leave this one. When she opened her eyes again, the space felt almost rehearsed. The clearing was perfectly round. Sunlight fell in deliberate shafts through the canopy above, illuminating jewel-bright birds darting after insects. Wildflowers spread in careful arcs, drawing butterflies in flashes of impossible colour. Everything was beautiful. Everything was wrong. Sweat beaded on her skin despite the gentle breeze. Ezra was not there. But a narrow trail broke through the bushes at the far edge of the clearing. Hope surged through her — sharp and painful. She moved toward it. Then she saw the light. Off to one side, beyond the trees, a brightness shone — harsher than the clearing’s glow, like early morning breaking through fog. The edge of the Forest. Her breath caught. If she stepped toward it, she could leave. She felt it — freedom waiting just beyond the trees. Had Ezra already escaped? Was the child waiting there, safe? Or had Ezra gone deeper instead? The clearing held its silence. The same birdcall rang out — clear, identical, as if repeating a note long practiced. She hesitated. If she left now, she might never return. But if Ezra waited beyond the trees… She bit her lip, gazing toward the light. Then she turned back toward the trail. A few steps beyond the clearing she stopped again. Footprints marked the mud. She crouched. They overlapped each other — worn deep into the earth, not one path but many, layered together as if walked again and again. Her breath faltered. Slowly, she placed her foot into one of the prints. It fit perfectly. They were hers. And they were old. A cold understanding brushed against her mind — something vast and terrible and almost clear — but it slipped away before she could grasp it. The trail stretched ahead, waiting. She swallowed and stepped forward. The trees closed behind her with quiet patience. Moments later she paused again, uncertain. She frowned at the ground around her. Surely there had been a trail just seconds ago… Somewhere deeper in the Forest, the same birdcall echoed once more — unchanged, unhurried. And the Forest waited.
By Mina Carey16 days ago in Fiction
