The Forgotten Diary The attic had always been Emma’s least favorite place in the house. It smelled of paper, dried wood, and forgotten years. Dust motes floated lazily in the afternoon light that slipped through a single, grimy window. She had avoided it since childhood, but now—after her grandmother’s death—it had become unavoidable. She was sorting through what remained of a life: trunks of clothes no one wore anymore, boxes labeled receipts, letters, miscellaneous. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the creak of floorboards beneath her careful steps. That was when she noticed the diary. ...Read More

Midnight Train The station clock struck twelve with a dull metallic echo that seemed louder than it should have John stepped onto the platform just as the midnight train hissed to a stop, its doors opening like a reluctant mouth. It was the last train of the night—the kind people boarded only when they had nowhere else to be. He hesitated before getting on. The platform was empty. No announcements. No footsteps. Just the hum of the train and the faint flicker of fluorescent lights overhead. John checked his phone. No signal. He slipped it back into his coat ...Read More