Daily Fiction, Blogs And Contents
Disconnected
Posted by David Kim on
The camera flicked on, the small red dot lighting up the corner of the screen, marking the beginning of another livestream. Alex sat in front of it, adjusting his headphones and checking his setup one last time. The room around him was neat—decorated with posters of his favorite games, shelves lined with action figures, and his meticulously organized desk. The soft glow of LED lights illuminated the space in a calming blue, but his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts.
Shane's Channel
Posted by David Kim on
Shane Miller’s camera blinked its tiny red light as it captured his every move. Standing at the edge of the Whispering Woods, he turned to face the lens, his trademark grin plastered across his face.
"Alright, folks, welcome back to Shane Explores! Today, we’re diving into the infamous Whispering Woods. Legends say it’s haunted—people hear voices, see shadows, and some never return. Let’s find out if there’s any truth to it, shall we?"
The Veil of Evermore
Posted by David Kim on
It started on an unremarkable Tuesday evening. Elliot was heading home from work, a backpack slung over his shoulder, the soft glow of streetlights flickering overhead. The air felt heavier than usual, thick with a strange, electric charge that raised goosebumps on his arms. He chalked it up to an approaching storm.
The Future
Posted by David Kim on
Jeremy sat up, rubbing his temples. His last memory was of a rainy evening in 2024, an uneventful Thursday night spent binge-watching his favorite show. Now, he was lying in a sleek, pod-like chamber that emitted a faint blue glow. The walls around him were made of smooth, reflective metal, and strange symbols flickered on screens nearby.
I'm A Ghost
Posted by David Kim on
The house had been mine once, a warm, bustling place filled with laughter, the smell of baking bread, and the golden light of afternoons spent reading by the window. Now, it stands like a hollowed shell, a relic of time forgotten, perched at the edge of the woods as though the land itself seeks to reclaim it. It has been years—decades? Centuries? I cannot be sure anymore—since I last felt the comforting weight of time. The living often speak of eternity as though it’s a gift, but I know its curse.