When the barrier fell, the sound it made was not heard but felt—a tremor beneath consciousness, like a heartbeat suddenly shared by every living thing.

For the first few hours, nothing seemed to change. The sky was the same gray-blue, the streets still thrummed with traffic, people still woke, scrolled, and hurried through their days. But the air felt thinner, as if the world had exhaled and ...

In that world, mirrors are not reflections—they’re doors.

No one knows who made them first. Some say they were born the same moment light itself learned to bend. Others whisper they’re the scars left behind from when two realities brushed too close and tore apart. Whatever the truth, everyone learns as a child never to stare too long into one.

Each mirror hums faintly with a frequency only the...

The envelope is black—charred around the edges, as if it had passed through fire. Your name is written in your own handwriting, only slightly off, the strokes sharper, more deliberate.

When you unfold the letter, the paper hums faintly in your hands. It’s warm, pulsing like something alive.

To: Me

From: Me

If you’re reading this, the barrier is failing. The echoes have begun crossing ov...

Laughter ricochets across the room,

plastic cups, spilled light,

a blur of faces daring joy

to last a little longer.

Truth hides in the corner,

counting breaths like marbles.

Someone throws a word too sharp,

and silence catches it midair.

The music keeps pretending

nothing happened.

We keep pretending

we’re still playing.

But the air has changed—

a note bent out of tune.

It’s all fun and games

...

In another aisle of the Midnight Library, Lucas discovered a book chronicling a life where his sister never drowned. With trembling hands, he read of family dinners, laughter, birthdays filled with joy—a world so vivid he could almost hear it. Then, the final chapter warned: “You may enter, but you cannot return.” As he stood before a door shimmering between the shelves, he faced an impossible cho...

Elena stumbled into the Midnight Library after chasing a flickering light through the fog. The shelves stretched endlessly, each spine whispering a name she knew—friends, family, strangers. Then she saw a book with her name, but unlike the others, its pages were blank. As she flipped through the emptiness, a sentence slowly appeared: “This is where you were never meant to be.” Terrified, Elena rea...

The elevator groaned as it carried Mira to the rooftop, past thirty-five floors of flickering lights and muffled televisions. When the doors slid open, the noise of the city thinned to a distant hum.

She stepped into the night air, the wind tugging at her coat. Below, the city stretched like an endless circuit board—streets glowing with rivers of headlights, windows burning like tiny stars. Up he...

The night was quiet except for the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Amelia crouched down, a rag in her hand, scrubbing furiously at the stain spreading across the wooden boards. The smell of iron filled the air, sharp and metallic, clinging to her skin like guilt.

She paused, her breath hitching. A nervous laugh slipped from her lips.

“Gosh, I have to stop getting blood all ...