A 17-year old school boy came to know that her crush committed suicide. Even though he wants to convey his feeling to her, it was too late. One day her ghost came to him and asked for his help, to prove her death is not suicide but she was killed. Note: this story consists the view point of ...

Tranquil is my heart and empty is mind. But no light shows my way through the darkness. No light, but that of the lonely Wayfaring Stranger, who offered to guide me away from this abyss.

A MEDIEVAL DARK FANTASY TALE OF VENGEANCE AND FATE Many years have passed since the fall of the empire that conquered the world due to the return of demons and dark magic. So begins the saga of Lilith – the goddess of Death, and her journey to become the ruler of Earth. A prophecy is told of ...

Nadia wasn't supposed to want or feel anything. Her Creator gave her a purpose, and she will fulfil it! But why is she hesitating to heal herself with Zack's soul? What else is she supposed to do with it? Why... doesn't she want to let him go?

There was a tale of those who, upon seeing Thanatos, leaped into the night. However, there is the tale of those who, upon encountering Eros, ventured into the day.

The revolution has won. The King and Queen are already dead. Only the Princess remains. And tomorrow, she'll die too. Yet she organized one last ball. Amidst all the hate, and in the face of death, she will dance the most beautifully. How to live when you know you'll die ? How to love when you ...

For the realm of mortals, nothing is actually as it seems.

As a virus spreads through the heart of Eros City, Detective Kean is on a relentless quest to unravel a string of mysterious suicides that defy explanation. A short story written for the YOASOBI x Honeyfeed Writing Contest. Feedback encouraged and appreciated.

She was the one I loved most, and her secret nickname was “My Bridge to Life”. “Love?” As contradicting it is to say , this story is not a romantic drama! I could only describe us like this: Our connection at the start was a thread. Every time I made a crack on you, the bridge, ...

See, that’s the curse she placed on me all those years ago. I see it in the hundreds of grotesque butterflies lining the veins along her wrists. But butterflies aren’t pink in nature—it’s ink, and paint, and blood that coats her lips and spills into the shadows. “She looks a lot like someone...