thriller
Night of The Pandas. Content Warning.
Just an FYI: March 16th is National Panda Day! It began like any other night. My husband, brother, and I took our dogs out for a late-night stroll. They did not like being out around our neighbors or their respective pets, and neither did we, so this routine suited us just fine--anything to maintain the peace.
By Rain Dayzeabout 3 hours ago in Fiction
The Apartment in the Middle
It was raining when Mara first saw the building on Myriad Circle. The clouds hung low and gray, like a tired curtain that refused to move. She had come to this city on impulse, chasing nothing but a vague sense of escape and a hope that the world outside her small hometown could somehow understand her.
By Fawad Ahmadabout 13 hours ago in Fiction
The Solitude of The Chupacabra. Top Story - March 2026.
Many say that the Chupacabra is a rather recent and modern tale, a mangy coyote or rabied dog. Some point out that it’s just twisted evolution. But very few know the true backstory of the shapeshifter that led to the bloodsucking legend. And perhaps once you will come to know and understand more, you might “forget” a few cattle out to wander.
By Oneg In The Arctic3 days ago in Fiction
The Story Beneath The Story
People call me Bigfoot and other names and say that I smell horribly. They are afraid of me because I’m not human and have fur. I live where few people do, and the scent I give off is from my rich diet. We live in the wilderness, hiding from humans, and smell like the earth and trees. We rub the raw elk onto our fur and sometimes have nests with carcasses and excrement. Humans don’t find traces of our bodies because, when near death, our fur sheds and eagles take it away. We only die in the spring when wolf and bear cubs are emerging, and our bodies feed their young, while their parents consume our bones. There aren’t many of us left. We think humans stink, and we know when they are near. Human females smell better than males, but sometimes their acrid odor makes me sneeze; it seems to happen once every moon.
By Andrea Corwin 3 days ago in Fiction
The Safety Bell
Pity hung from the funeralgoers' faces. They were something out of a nightmarish painting; not sure what to do with their mouths, some pinching them closed, others looked like they were caught mid scream. Most of the women had watering eyes that they tried to avert from meeting Albert’s. For some reason, it made him feel ashamed.
By Nikki Torino Wagner3 days ago in Fiction
Who's Gage
The cereal went soggy faster than I liked, but I still ate it that way. The house was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking clock in the hallway. Morning light stretched across the kitchen table and stopped just short of the bowl.
By Tifani Power 3 days ago in Fiction
