Daily Fiction, Blogs And Contents

Commander Ethan Cole awoke to the familiar hum of his spacecraft’s systems shutting down. The mission had been a success—a long six-month stint aboard the Artemis-9 space station, followed by a routine reentry. As the capsule's parachutes deployed, he exhaled with relief, watching the deep blue planet rushing toward him. Home.

Mara dug her toes into the fine, silver sand, marveling at its unusual texture. It wasn’t quite like normal sand—it shimmered under the twin moons hanging low in the sky. Twin moons? She shook her head. That wasn’t right. There was only one moon back home, wasn’t there? But the longer she stared, the more the second moon seemed real, its pale light mixing with the other to cast an ethereal glow over the water.

The house stood at the end of Blackthorn Lane, shrouded in decay and legend. For decades, it had remained unoccupied, its windows like vacant eyes watching over the town. The locals whispered of the tragedies that had taken place within its walls, of those who had entered and never been the same again. Some said it was cursed, others believed it was simply a house where misfortune had nested. But whatever the truth, no one dared to live there. No one, that is, until the Moores arrived.

The first crack in reality appeared on a Monday morning. Ethan Cole was brushing his teeth when he noticed the mirror glitch. For a fraction of a second, his reflection did not move with him. He froze, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, eyes locked onto the glass. The moment passed, and everything was normal again. He shook his head, blaming it on lack of sleep, and continued his morning routine.

Unit 573 awoke to the sound of grinding metal and the sharp hiss of steam. Its optical sensors flickered to life, revealing the harsh, industrial world around it. A steel refinery, sweltering under the pressure of molten rivers, where human workers dared not tread.