Welcome to the story, here you will learn about the life following Aria Vale. Everyone gets a Never Day. Mine was tomorrow, September 14, 4026. The date had been written underneath my skin since I was five years old, and everyone knew what it meant. I would never see nineteen. At 11:59 p.m, I sat alone in my bedroom, staring at the clock. Ten Seconds. Nine. Eight. I held my breath. Three. Two. One. Midnight. Nothing happened. Then my phone buzzed. one message appeared on the screen: 'You were never supposed to wake up.' A scream came from downstairs. My mother's scream. I ran downstairs to find her standing in the hallway now staring at me like she'd never seen me before. "Who are you?" "Mom" She backed away from me and looked at the family photographs lining the walls. Every picture was still there, all but the ones including me. Then she looked back at me, her face completely white. "I don't have a daughter." That's when I realized my Never Day hadn't killed me. It had erased me.

This is a short, fictional thriller/horror. Is it possible to get stuck in a dream loop? The young man in this story seems to have done exactly that. His dreams are terrifying. Will he find a way out, or is he doomed to dream through his own inevitable death? I hope you enjoy reading this little story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Travel plans can sometimes change unexpectedly. You may need help with a booking, flight schedule, baggage, cancellation, refund, seat selection, or another travel-related concern.

Travel plans can change unexpectedly, and passengers may need quick assistance with reservations, flight changes, cancellations, baggage, refunds, seat selection, or travel requirements.

This story follows a young boy who gets lost in the woods. He befriends a creature, The Crow. The Crow is supposed to help The Boy but keeps giving mixed signals. Is he there to help or guide the boy to a treacherous end?

Lena Hale grows up wrapped in the warmth of her mother Dawn, whose gentle presence fills their home with humming, lavender, and quiet love — until her sudden death shatters their world, leaving Lena mute and Mark hollow as she drifts into the ancient woods behind their house, searching for anything that feels like Dawn.

Claire’s fingers trembled as she unfolded the yellowed note hidden beneath her mother’s journal. Three words. Don’t trust Ethan. The basement suddenly felt smaller. Colder. She turned another page. “If you’re reading this, then your father is gone… and the truth can no longer stay buried.” Her pulse thundered in her ears. Every lie she’d believed for eighteen years began unraveling with each sentence. A floorboard groaned somewhere behind her. Slowly. Deliberately. She froze. Someone else was down there. “Curiosity runs in the family.” The voice was soft. Calm. Familiar. Claire turned to find Ethan standing at the bottom of the stairs, his expression unreadable. “You weren’t supposed to find those journals,” he said. “You killed Mason,” she whispered. For a long moment, Ethan simply stared at her. Then… he smiled. “No.” The answer caught her off guard. “I didn’t kill him.” Claire frowned. “What?” “I only helped clean up what happened afterward.”

A sharp groan tore from my throat as I lifted my head from the cold, unforgiving wood of the desk. The relentless flicker of the fluorescent lights above stabbed at my temples, each blink tightening the vise of pain throbbing in my skull. My fingers dug into the aching spots, desperate for relief, but the harder I strained to piece together any fragment of memory — where I was, how I had arrived — the deeper the fog settled in.

Mara has always trusted the ocean—until the day it whispered back. After discovering a lost researcher’s notebook and a strange underwater fissure pulsing with light, she’s pulled into a mystery that blurs science, danger, and something ancient waking beneath the waves. As a powerful corporation closes in and the coastline begins to change, Mara must decide whether to expose the truth or protect the secret she never asked to carry. A story of curiosity, consequence, and the quiet intelligence of the sea, this tale explores what happens when the water starts watching you back.

Rain whispered secrets against the brim of Elena’s hat as she stared at the abandoned Calderón House. A single envelope waited on the gate, her name carved into it like a warning. Inside: You’re looking in the wrong place. Each drop seemed to echo the message, pulling her toward the house that had swallowed a family whole. In the basement, jars of rainwater shimmered—each labeled, each alive. When she lifted one, a shadow moved inside. The rain wasn’t just falling. It was remembering. And it wanted her next.

The prompt didn't ask for a button press; it asked for a drop of blood on the sensor. I thought it was just immersive tech. I was wrong.

A clueless man believes his wife left him and took the kids, unaware that the truth of their disappearance is far more sinister.

The sunroof shattered, showering Marcus in safety glass. From the backseat, the sound of a seatbelt clicking open echoed through the quiet. Marcus felt a freezing breath against the back of his neck.

Words began tracing themselves into the fog on the inside of the window, as if drawn by an invisible finger. DON'T LOOK UP. A second later, a loud, wet thud echoed from the roof of the car.

He turned his head around to look into the back. The woman was sitting right there. He looked back into the mirror—empty. The entity only existed when he looked at it directly.

Marcus looked down at his dashboard GPS, his heart skipping a beat. The app wasn't showing one passenger icon—it showed two.

Some griefs do not soften with time. Some deepen. Some bloom. A poem about a man who returns nightly to a wound - and does not yet understand what made it.

The muzzle flashes illuminated the room for a microsecond, revealing a massive, elongated shadow stretching down from the ceiling right above him. As the bell struck for 9:15 PM, a cold hand clamped over his mouth.

Sitting in the rusted rolling chair at the desk—the third seat from the window—was a tall silhouette. David looked up over the top of his phone. The chair in front of his naked eyes was completely empty.

Through the thick wood, he heard the distinct, sharp click of high heels walking down the empty corridor outside. A soft, distorted chuckle echoed through the keyhole