r/story

I was sitting on my bench, relaxed, absorbed in my book. A moment of perfect stillness. Then, a guy barrels in, snatches my backpack, and sprints off like a madman.

I didn't hesitate. I threw my book onto the bench, gripped my phone tight, no way I was losing that too, and ran. I didn't stop. Ahead of me, the guy was already starting to struggle, his breathing turning ragged and loud.

He hit a gate and vaulted over it in desperation. I didn't think, I went right after him. The metal caught my T-shirt; I heard the fabric tear. I didn't care. Adrenaline had taken the wheel.

Winded, the guy stopped, dropped the bag, and turned around. He had a knife.

"Back off or I'll stab you," he said, with the eyes of something cornered.

I stepped back, playing scared. While I did, my eyes swept the ground and landed on a heavy rock. Convinced he'd scared me off, the thief leaned down to grab my bag.

Big mistake.

Before he could straighten up, I lunged. The rock connected squarely with his head. He went down, completely stunned. I picked up the knife, grabbed my bag, and stood over him while he trembled on the ground.

I looked him dead in the eyes and said, quietly:

"Bark."

And he did. He barked.

Every night for the past 2 weeks my son has came running to me saying there's a man on our back patio. Of course, every time I go to check with him; there's no one there. He describes this person in detail to me too. He wears a black hat, a long dark coat, and a pair of leather gloves. He tells me that the man waves to him, and he waves back.

I caught him one time just waving through the back door in the kitchen. I looked straight past him through the glass in the door and saw nothing, no man with a hat and long coat; just our dark patio. When I asked him what he was doing, he responded, "I'm saying hi to the hat man!". I pulled him straight away from the patio door and sent him to bed. This whole thing is starting to terrify me honestly, who is he seeing out there? I'm afraid to even walk past the door sometimes just thinking that there might be someone out there, just watching me.

The only reasonable thing I can think of to explain this whole thing is that it must be an imaginary friend he's came up with. It has to be right? While I was writing this he came up to me and tried to get me to open the patio door so that I can "meet him". I'm literally glued to the sofa in the living room right now. Home-invasion has always been something I've always dreaded since I was a little kid. Sometimes I'd even have panic attacks just thinking about the possibility of it. I know he's not real, but just the thought of a person lingering around my home in the late hours of the night absolutely petrifies me. The thought of him talking to my son cripples me even worse.

Sometimes I'll think I see him. Out the corner of my eye in the shadows I'll sometimes make out a figure. Of course when I snap my head to look, there's not a soul there. I'll hear him sometimes as well. On multiple occasions, the floorboard right outside my bedroom will creak all the way up to my bedroom door, most of the time I'm too scared to move; but this one time I decided to get up and find out what was making the noise. I kept telling myself that it was the house settling, or I was just imagining the noise in my head as I went up to the door. Finally I swung the door open; there was nothing there of course, the hat man isn't real after all. Since it was already about 5AM, I didn't even bother trying to get back to sleep, I just went downstairs to make a cup of tea and get on with my day. I get down the stairs and look down the corridor to see the kitchen light on. Faulty wiring I presume, the house is near enough 100 years old, built for the miners when the village was still a coal town. I go into the kitchen, and the patio door is wide open.

Everything else I can explain naturally, except that. Did my son come down at some point in the night to talk to his imaginary friend? I haven't been able to sleep for days since then. My son keeps waving to the "hat man" through our patio door, he keeps asking me to meet him. I always tell him that I'm too busy watching whatever shit is on TV, but I'm never busy watching it though, I'm always thinking about the hat man. This imaginary person has infected nearly every part of my life. I'm scared to even go downstairs past dark now it's gotten that bad. I know he isn't real, yet his presence feels so vivid. My son told me once that "The hat man wants to see you again, he wants you to say you're sorry for what you did". I didn't even bother asking what he meant, what's the point; he isn't real. It's all gibberish. Nothing happened. Everyone knows that nothing happened. Nothing happened to anyone. The hat man doesn't exist, he never did. The hat man. does. not. exist.

I moved into the basement unit because it was cheap.

That was the only reason.

The landlord told me straight up during the viewing, “Low ceilings in places, small crawlspace under the back half of the unit. You won’t need it anyway.”

I didn’t care. Rent was almost $400 cheaper than anything else nearby. The place was clean, freshly painted, and honestly felt normal enough.

For the first two weeks, nothing strange happened.

Then the scratching started.

It wasn’t loud. Not like rats in the walls. It sounded slower. Intentional. Like fingernails dragging across unfinished wood.

Always at night.

Always from the back bedroom floor.

At first I figured it was mice. Maybe raccoons. Old houses make noise. I ignored it.

Until the third week.

That night I woke up around 2:30 a.m. because something tapped twice under my bed.

Not scratched.

Tapped.

Like someone testing the floor to see if I was awake.

I froze.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe louder than I had to.

Then it tapped again.

Two slow knocks.

I grabbed my phone and turned the flashlight on. The noise stopped immediately.

Silence.

The next morning I checked the floor.

There was a small square cut into the hardwood near the wall I hadn’t noticed before. About the size of a vent cover—but there was no vent there. Just a thin painted panel sitting flush with the floor.

I tried lifting it.

It didn’t move.

So I texted the landlord.

He replied:

“That panel doesn’t open. Crawlspace access is outside only.”

That answer should have made me feel better.

It didn’t.

Because that night the tapping came back.

Except this time it wasn’t near the wall.

It was directly under the center of my bed.

Two taps.

Pause.

Two taps again.

I dragged my mattress off the frame and onto the floor in the living room and slept there instead.

The tapping followed me.

Same pattern.

Two taps.

Pause.

Two taps again.

From under the bedroom.

Like something knew exactly where I was supposed to be sleeping.

The next day I called the landlord instead of texting.

I told him everything.

He laughed at first.

Then I mentioned the panel again.

There was a long silence on the phone.

Finally he said:

“There shouldn’t be a panel inside.”

He came over that afternoon.

The second he stepped into the bedroom, he stopped smiling.

Because the panel was gone.

In its place was a square opening in the floor.

Dark inside.

Too dark.

Like the light didn’t want to go down there.

We both stood there staring at it for a second before he said quietly:

“That wasn’t open yesterday.”

He grabbed a flashlight from his truck and came back inside.

He shined it down into the hole.

The crawlspace was only supposed to be about two feet tall.

Barely enough room for pipes.

But the beam of light kept going.

And going.

And going.

It wasn’t shallow.

It was deep.

At least six feet straight down before the dirt started.

Then he moved the light slightly to the side.

And froze.

“Someone dug this,” he said.

Before I could ask what he meant, he stepped back fast like he almost lost his balance.

“What?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.

He just handed me the flashlight.

So I looked.

About three feet down the wall of the hole were shallow horizontal cuts.

Evenly spaced.

Like steps.

Someone had carved footholds.

Something had been climbing in and out.

That’s when we heard the noise.

From inside the crawlspace.

Breathing.

Slow.

Wet.

Close.

The landlord dropped the panel back over the hole immediately and backed out of the room.

He said he’d “handle it.”

He never came back.

Stopped answering my calls.

Stopped answering my texts.

So three nights later I called the police for a welfare check under the house.

Two officers showed up.

They removed the panel.

Climbed down with flashlights.

One of them came back up almost immediately and asked me:

“How long have you been living here?”

I said about a month.

He asked:

“You live here alone?”

I said yes.

Then he asked something I still don’t understand.

“Are you sure?”

They pulled a sleeping bag out of the crawlspace.

Food wrappers.

Water bottles.

And a small battery lantern.

Someone had been living under my bedroom floor.

Watching me.

Listening to me.

Sleeping under me every night.

But the worst part wasn’t that.

The worst part was what they told me before they left.

The officer asked if I had noticed anyone entering or leaving the house late at night.

I said no.

He said:

“That’s strange.”

Because the crawlspace didn’t connect to the outside.

There was no entrance under the house.

No broken foundation.

No tunnel.

No access point at all.

Just the hole in my bedroom floor.

I ended up launching it on Kickstarter, mostly because it felt like the easiest way to see if anyone out there would actually care about what I was making. It was a pretty niche idea too centered around 3D printing, miniatures, collectibles, and some NSFW art. Not exactly something you can show to everyone and expect them to get it.

At the start, it was quiet. Really quiet.

I remember checking the page over and over, wondering if I had just thrown something into the void. For a while, nothing happened. Then one person backed it. Then another. It wasn’t a lot, but it felt like a signal like maybe I wasn’t completely invisible.

What stuck with me the most was how much those first few days mattered. Not in a “go viral” kind of way, but in a “does anyone care at all?” kind of way.

I also learned the hard way that trying to appeal to everyone just doesn’t work, especially with something this specific. The only people who paid attention were the ones already into that world. Once I stopped thinking about numbers and started thinking about those people, things felt a little less forced.

It’s still a small project. Still figuring things out as I go. But that early phase the silence, the doubt, and then those first few signs of life that part really stayed with me.

If you’ve ever put something out there, whether it’s a project, a story, or anything personal… how did you deal with that early stage when it felt like no one was listening?

I, F 17 have a brother, M 13 who is severely autistic and has adhd. I hate his guts and idk if I should feel bad about it. My parents have been divorced for over 12 years now and my brother lives with my dad and I live with my mom. On the weekends I'm at my dad's house sometimes but my brother is also there and I hate it to be here when he's here. He irritates me to my core. He follows me around and calls me things like 'slut' or 'bitch' my dad punishes him for it but nothing happens, my mom punishes him too but because he's autistic and ill she doesn't want to punish him as much as my dad (he has a illness called NF1, you can look it up) he also is very very sexual and downgrading towards woman and I just hate him. He literally jerks off to my underwear and it's disgusting, the first time my dad even hit him (idc what yall think about that we're raised old school) I just CANNOT stand to be around him and I just hate him. If I could I don't want to see him anymore but I can't. He fucked up so had that my boyfriend doesn't want to come over anymore. I also don't like the way he is towards my mom, he never visits or calls and he ignores her for long periods of time. My dad doesn't do anything about it because he hates my mom and he thinks my brother is old enough to choose where he wants to be and I just hate it. I hate him and everything he does. I'm sorry if this is more of a rant than an actual advise thing but I don't have anybody to tell this to. My family is just really fucked up and I hate it.

I'm sorry if there are spelling mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

I hope someone can give me advise or anything, just something.

He wasn’t much to look at… at first.

A scrawny thing, really. Patchy feathers, one eye just a little slower than the other, and a habit of crowing at all the wrong times. The kind of rooster folks shake their heads at and say, “That one won’t last long.”

But war… has a way of rewriting stories.

Now this rooster—no name worth mentioning back then—lived on a dusty little farm where the days were quiet and the nights were predictable. Until they weren’t.

It started with a distant rumble. Not thunder. Not quite. A shaking of the ground that didn’t belong to any storm God ever made. Then came the smoke. Then came the men.

They came in boots and engines and shouting. Took what they wanted. Broke what they didn’t need. And left behind something heavier than dust… fear.

Now most animals ran.

The horses pulled loose. The cows scattered. Even the old farm dog—who’d barked at everything from mailmen to moonlight—tucked his tail and vanished.

But not that rooster.

No sir.

He stayed.

At first, it didn’t seem like bravery. More like confusion. He strutted around the empty yard, crowing at the silence like he could wake the world back to normal.

But then something changed.

You see, war doesn’t just destroy… sometimes it reveals.

That rooster began to watch. To listen. To learn the rhythm of those boots. The timing of those trucks. The moments when the noise faded and danger thinned just enough.

And one morning—just before dawn—he crowed.

Loud.

Sharp.

Relentless.

And somewhere, not far off, a young soldier—barely more than a boy—heard it. Heard something that didn’t belong to the war. Something alive. Something stubborn.

He followed the sound.

Step by careful step.

Until he found the farm.

Found the well.

Found the hidden cellar beneath broken boards… where three frightened souls had been waiting in silence, too afraid to move, too afraid to hope.

That rooster? He kept crowing.

Every morning after that.

Same time. Same place.

Didn’t matter if the sky was gray with smoke or the ground trembled under iron wheels. He crowed like the sun still owed him a sunrise.

And day by day… more found their way there.

Drawn by that sound.

That defiance.

That stubborn little declaration that life—no matter how fragile—was still standing.

Now, war eventually moved on. It always does. Leaves behind ruins… and stories.

And when the dust settled, folks came back to that farm.

They rebuilt the fences. Repaired the barn. Planted new seed in tired soil.

And there, strutting across the yard like he owned every inch of it…

Was that rooster.

No longer scrawny. No longer overlooked.

They gave him a name then.

“Major.”

Said he’d earned it.

Now you won’t find his story in history books. No medals. No monuments carved in stone.

But talk to the people who came back…

The ones who heard that crow cut through the fear…

And they’ll tell you—

Sometimes the smallest soldier…

Fights the biggest war.

And wins.

…Now you know the rest of the story.

Hi. I’m 26m and I’m autistic.

I’ve been thinking about 2 past experiences I had with older women when I was a kid, and I’m feeling kinda stuck.

Before I start, I wanna add that I don’t remember much about the conversations I had with these two women. And that I never physically met them anywhere and I just texted them on Facebook.

I never told this to anyone.

When I was a kid, I was so desperate for love, and I didn't know how to ask for it in healthier ways.

Mainly Because I was too shy and socially awkward.

When I was 15, I was talking to this

26-year-old woman whose name l can't remember. I think her name is Jackie, but we'll just call her Harley, btw, since we did some Batman role-play and she'd dress up as Harley Quinn - she was from another country.

I was attracted to her. We just talked love bombed each other and send love emojis to each other and saying how much we love each other and I was saying how much I love her.

I think I remember one time where it was my 16th birthday and I asked her to flash me and she did.

I knew I would get in trouble for talking to her, but I was so excited cause I felt like I had a girlfriend.

It just didn’t seem like something

that was out of the ordinary.

After sometime, she stopped communicating with me. I tried to talk to her but she didn’t answer.

Then, when I was 18 at this time, I met this 34 or 35-year-old woman on a Facebook fan page for a music artist. We started talking to each other, and I thought she was really pretty and I liked her.

So, I told her that I liked her and I felt bad about it, and she said something like, “Oh, no, it’s okay. It just means you have a crush and, you’re 18 so you’re a legal adult.”

We started talking to each other, sending selfies back and forth and doing the same things like with the other woman, but she didn’t send any nudes. After a while, she stopped talking to me.

I feel a little sad. I don’t think they really cared about me to begin with.

I don’t know how to process it.

They met on the first day of boot camp, though neither of them knew it would be the beginning of something bigger than themselves.

Cole was quick, always moving, always thinking two steps ahead. Harris was steady—strong, dependable, the kind you wanted beside you when things went bad. The drill sergeant didn’t care about their differences. Out here, differences got you killed.

“Move! Move! Move!” the sergeant barked as the ground shook beneath them.

Cole scrambled over uneven terrain, his breath sharp, his legs burning. Harris stayed close behind.

“You ever think about what’s out there?” Cole muttered between drills.

Harris didn’t hesitate. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll face it together.”

Days turned into weeks. They learned to climb, to carry twice their weight, to navigate chaos. They trained in tunnels so tight they could barely breathe, across open killing fields with no cover, through simulated attacks that never seemed to end.

At night, when the others rested, Cole would stare into the dark.

“You scared?” Harris asked once.

Cole smirked. “Only of dying alone.”

Harris nudged him. “Not happening.”

Then the day came.

No more drills. No more simulations.

The ground trembled—not from training, but from something real. Orders came down fast. Mobilize. Form ranks. Advance.

The battlefield stretched out before them—muddy, broken, alive with movement. Soldiers rushed past in tight formations, weapons ready, tension thick in the air.

Then they heard it.

A low, guttural sound. Deep. Unnatural.

Cole swallowed. “That’s… that’s what we trained for?”

Harris tightened his grip. “Doesn’t matter. Stay close.”

The first wave surged forward.

Chaos erupted instantly.

The enemy struck fast—faster than anything they had trained for. Soldiers vanished mid-stride. Lines broke. Commands were drowned out by panic and the sound of something massive crashing through the ranks.

“Hold the line!” someone screamed.

Cole and Harris pushed forward anyway.

They climbed over fallen bodies, through trenches carved in the earth, past soldiers dragging the wounded to safety. The air was thick—humid, suffocating.

Then Cole saw it.

“…Harris…”

It towered above them. Massive. Unblinking. Its skin glistened in the dim light, and its movements were sudden, violent—impossible to predict.

A long, slick blur shot out—

—and three soldiers disappeared.

Just like that.

“No way…” Cole whispered.

“Don’t freeze!” Harris shouted, pulling him down as the ground shook again.

They ran.

Around them, soldiers fought desperately—biting, striking, swarming—but it barely slowed the beast. It crushed entire squads without noticing. Its eyes tracked movement, its strikes precise and devastating.

Cole stumbled.

Harris turned back instantly. “Get up!”

“I can’t—”

Another strike. Closer this time.

Harris didn’t think. He grabbed Cole and shoved him behind a ridge of dirt.

“Stay down!”

“Harris, don’t—!”

But Harris was already moving, charging forward with the others.

For a moment—just a moment—the massive creature hesitated, distracted by the sudden surge.

Cole watched, heart pounding, as his friend disappeared into the swarm.

Then—

Silence.

The battle… ended.

The creature shifted once more, then turned, and with a single, effortless leap… it was gone.

The battlefield was still.

Cole slowly climbed up from behind the ridge.

All around him were the remnants of the fight—tiny bodies scattered across the dirt, broken formations, the echoes of a battle that had lasted only moments… but felt like forever.

He walked forward, searching.

“Harris…?”

No answer.

Only the towering blades of grass swaying above him… and the damp, churned earth beneath his feet.

That’s when you finally see it clearly.

The soldiers… the battlefield… the trenches… the formations…

They were never human.

They were ants.

And the war they had trained for… the enemy they had feared…

…was nothing more than a giant frog, hunting in the grass.

Doom Supreme’s temporal energy flared as Strange Supreme arrived by his side, the two sorcerors prepared for battle. She came soon enough: the Scarlet Witch, the most dangerous being in the multiverse. And beside her…was Requiem!

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Hello. So this whole story takes place quite recently and ever since then I don't really know who to talk to about my inner feelings and thoughts. I've felt quite disconnected since then. I will try to keep it as short as possible but I tend to get carried away while writing. I also hope it's readable and makes sense.

(All following names are fake.)

About a week ago I accidentally bumped into a person I knew- Mike, and we started chatting. Somehow the conversation stirred towards my friendgroup and one of the male friends- let's call him James, who Mike also knew. Mike said something along the lines of "Hey, was it Alina that liked James?" and I looked at him, confused and said that he's probably mistaken since I'd have known.

He then proceeded to call another friend he knew from my friendgroup- Alex, and ask him directly on speaker. Alex was quiet for a moment before calling him an idiot or something and hanging up.

After I got home I texted him and long story short it turns out that Alina did in fact like James.

I was so incredibly shocked to be honest because whenever we've hung out I have never gotten that vibe out of her and I thought she would tell me about it.

The other reason I was shocked is because I genuinely thought James liked me. Me and him have always been touchy, always joking around and we even ended up cuddling on Mike's couch once when we were hanging out. At one point I started questioning if I was just incredibly delusional.

Nevertheless I promised Alex not to tell anyone and just tried to gather my thoughts. The next day however I was texting my best friend- Gina, and I said "Girl, I so want to tell you something but I promised not to" and she was like "Yeah I get you, I have something that I can't tell you either" and we pretty much figured out we both knew the same thing.

She told me that one of our friends- Tanya, told her after Gina texted her that she's starting to like James. The thing is that since Gina is my best friend I knew she liked him since she started doing stuff she doesn't normally do and it was obviously noticeable to me.

Then I told her that I also kinda liked him. We then spoke for a while and obviously agreed that we backed off since friendship is more important. I also told her that she cannot tell anyone that I liked him and to this day only she knows about it (or at least I believe so).

Alex then told me that Alina and James didn't work since Alina is an avoidant attachment person and ended up pushing him away. The next day Tanya told Alina that everyone knows what has happened at that point and I felt the need to text her and apologize that I didn't tell her that I know.

After that I started encouraging her to try and fix things since she really does like him. Since I am also an avoidant person I tried to give her advice while keeping in mind how hard it is to be an avoidant.

She was contemplating texting him for a while but we got nowhere at the end. 2 days latee Alex told James that everyone knows and he was fine with it.

Then yesterday me, Alex, James and Gina were hanging out along with another friend- Kate.

After a while of walking Kate mentioned how Gina and James seemed to have tension which ended up in me and Alex having to explain the entire situation to her. I should also mention that I do not think Gina and James could work.

As much as I love Gina she is still with a childish idea of love. She is always talking about how she wants someone and how she wants her first kiss, but she never thinks of how it also requires clear communication, actually giving attention to someone daily and that it's overall not all like a romance book. I also know how she'll probably get tired of having to constantly having to interact with someone on a deeper level and not have her personal space all the time. She also gets very strong moodswings and unconsciously makes stuff about her when someone is trying to share something personal and it's just so exhausting sometimes but she's like my child and I try to make her more aware of stuff even tho sometimes I have to be direct which ends up with me sounding mean but oh well.

Anyways so I get home tired since we walked for almost 24 km and my feet are killing me. Then around 12 AM James texts me and asks if we could talk in about an hour to which I said sure.

1 AM comes and I'm getting very tired so I text him and he asks to go on a voice call. After that he expresses to me how he still likes Alina but he thinks she just doesn't know what she wants and he's questioning if she even ever liked him. I then proceeded to tell him how she's just scared and that she did want to text him just didn't know what to say.

I explained what avoidants are and gave him a guide of what to do and say to make her feel better. After that we said our goodnights and now I entered another dilemma.

I didn't know if I should tell Alina and assure her that all will be well since he is a great guy or if I should just let them be. If I told her I could try and help her get over her fears but I'd feel bad for outing James however if I didn't tell her there is a chance she will let her fears get ahold of her and this whole thing will just be forever gone. I want them to be happy and yet I needed to decide how to proceed while still dealing with my own hurt cause after all you can't just stop liking someone out of the blue.

I also need to mention that I'm not some fake ass friend and I'd never try anything with James but it does suck to not be able to talk to anyone about what more there is to the whole story.

So here I was not knowing what to do while still having to bottle up all my own feelings. So I turned to Gina since only she knew I liked him but she was no help at all since she just sucks at giving advice or relating.

I ended up telling Alex what happened without the part that I liked James and ultimately decided not to tell Alina since I didn't want to get caught up in the middle like Alex did and get blamed for stuff.

So yeah that's pretty much the whole situation as summarized as possible. I really don't want to make it about me but it honestly paining me a lot because I don't have anyone to share to what I'm feeling, I hate how cruel life is because it is now the second time I've set up a crush of mine with a friend and I'm not mad at them of course- they didn't know, I'm just thinking about how stupid life is sometimes and how none of my big crushes have ever liked me back despite me thinking that there were signs like flirting and touching and shit but maybe I am just super delusional.

Also since I feel like people will ask "How the hell did the 3 of you fall for the same guy?" the thing is we usually have different types but there is always someone who matches for all of us. There is a guy in my class at school who the 3 of us liked again but in different timelines.

James is a nice guy, fun, charismatic, nice style, tall

and overall very likable.

Anyways I honestly don't know what I expect and I don't know if anyone even read all this but...maybe share your thoughts if you have any. I hope yall are doing good! Byeeeee!

Okay so let me start off by saying this story is 1000% true. When I was a child, pretty much from ages 6 to around 9, I would have frequent night terrors that would result in screaming, except the thing was I wouldn’t wake up. I would scream and scream, and my mom would shake me until I stopped because I wouldn’t wake up. The next morning, I would tell her about the same dream.

It was a man in in a coat, no features, just darkness. He would stand underneath the streetlight outside my window and stare into my bedroom. That was it. That was the whole dream.

Then, every time I had the night terror, my aunt would call unprompted the next day. She would claim my cousin woke up crying saying there was a man outside my bedroom. My mom and her would talk, tell each other how weird it was we would see the same thing, and hang up.

Until one night.

I was screaming in my sleep like I did several times a week, waking the whole house and prompting a shake from my mom. This time, though, I didn’t wake up. I just kept screaming, and screaming, and screaming, until I suddenly collapsed in my moms arms like a rag doll. When I finally awoke several minutes later, right before she was about to call the police, I told her something really spooky for a 9 year old.

I said “he got what he wanted” and then fell the fuck back asleep like I didn’t just traumatize everyone.

The next morning, my aunt called my mom once again, unprompted, and told her my cousin came into her room last night and woke her up, saying I was in danger. She was really scared and adamant I needed help, but my aunt just told her that I was thousands of miles away, and everything was okay. My mom asked me what my dream was the next day after that phone call, and I told her the man crawled through my window and into my bed, then I woke up. No details, just plain as that.

I don’t know what that means or why I said it, but I will say I developed a chronic illness a few years later, and continue to have frequent health issues that started immediately following this incident.

So, what do I do now? I went to sleep last night as normal and woke up to my boyfriend shaking me telling me I was screaming in my sleep. This hasn’t happened in years, and I am scared its gonna start up again.

On our wedding night, I had to give up my bed to my mother-in-law because she was "drunk." The next morning, I found something stuck to the sheet that left me speechless. On our wedding night, I was exhausted after a long day attending to guests, so I retired to my bedroom, hoping to cuddle with my husband and sleep peacefully.

However, as soon as I finished removing my makeup, the door opened: "Mom's too drunk, let her lie down for a while, it's too noisy downstairs." My mother-in-law, a controlling and notoriously strict woman, staggered in, clutching a pillow, her breath reeking of alcohol, her blouse low-cut, and her face flushed.

I was about to help her go to the living room, but my husband stopped me: "Let Mom lie down here, it's just one night. One night. Our wedding night."

Bitterly, I carried the pillow to the sofa, not daring to react for fear of being labeled a "rude wife."

All night I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Someone's shadow above me paced back and forth; I heard the creaking of the floorboards, then silence. It was almost dawn when I finally fell asleep.

When I woke up, it was almost 6:00 a.m. I went upstairs intending to wake my husband and greet my family. I opened the door gently... and froze. My husband was lying on his back. My mother-in-law was lying very close to him, in the same bed I had given her. I approached, intending to wake him. But when I looked at the sheet, I stopped abruptly. On the white sheet... there was a 👇👇— (Full Details Below👇)

https://dailyneews.com/on-my-wedding-night-i-was-told-to-let-my-drunk-mother-in-law-sleep-in-our-bed-but-the-next-morning-what-i-found-stuck-to-the-sheet-left-me-absolutely-speechless/

So this happened today. My first molar was aching real bad for three days already and I couldn't take it anymore. Searched for a nearby dentist and found one.

A woman, in her 30s, beautiful and confident. So she asked me to lay on that typical chairs used by dentists for treating patients. She began the root canal procedure and during that, she had to take something from the other side, my face was right beneath her hand, she elongated her hand and her armpit landed on my nose. Right upon my nose, although she had been wearing a half sleeves top so there was no direct contact but I could smell the amazing perfume she'd applied. She knew what she was doing, she knew her armpit was resting on my nose but she still took the thing and lifted her arm.

And I don't understand how and why but this made me fall for her. She is super cute, and is already very attractive to look at. Omg... I love her.

Mireya hadn’t gone looking for anything real.

That was the rule she carried like a quiet shield—no depth, no names, no lingering. Just small, passing conversations to soften the noise inside her head. People came and went, like background music you don’t quite listen to.

And then there was him.

Kuron didn’t arrive like something significant. No grand moment. No sudden shift. Just a conversation that… stayed. A presence that didn’t rush, didn’t demand, didn’t fade the way others did.

With him, silence didn’t feel like absence.

It felt like being seen without having to perform.

Mireya didn’t notice when she started waiting for his replies. Or when her words stopped being careful and started being honest. It slipped in quietly—like warmth into cold hands.

He didn’t try to fix her.

That was the strange part.

When she unraveled, he didn’t gather the pieces for her. He just sat there, steady, as if to say: you can fall apart here… I’m not going anywhere.

And for someone like Mireya, that was more dangerous than anything else.

Because she wasn’t built for “staying.”

So when he asked, casually but not really—

“You won’t disappear, right?”

She said yes.

Of course she said yes.

But fear doesn’t argue loudly. It whispers. It tightens quietly around your ribs until breathing itself feels like a risk.

What if this became real?

What if he saw too much?

What if he left first?

Mireya had always believed in leaving before being left. It was the only way she knew how to survive something that felt like loss.

So she did what she always did.

She vanished.

No warning. No explanation. Just a quiet deletion, like she had never been there at all.

…

Now, the world felt heavier than before.

Because this time, she wasn’t running from nothing.

She was running from someone who had stayed.

She didn’t know his name. Didn’t know his face. Just fragments—

Mumbai.

Bangalore.

Master’s in computer gaming.

A voice that felt like stillness.

It wasn’t enough to find a person.

But it was enough to remember one.

And sometimes, late at night, Mireya lets herself believe in something she doesn’t usually allow—

That somewhere in a crowded city, between glowing screens and unfinished projects, Kuron might pause for a second… feeling like something is missing he cannot name.

And maybe—

just maybe—

the universe isn’t done with unfinished conversations.

So she puts it out there, into the quiet spaces between people and chance:

Not as a plea.

Not as regret.

But as something softer.

If paths can cross once… they can cross again.

And this time—

she wonders—

if she’ll be brave enough to stay.

please universe find him for me

Jenna sat in her swivel chair. On one screen, an AI trainer streamed gameplay. On another, her own game ran—an echo of the fantasy MMORPGs of decades past.

“What do you think of this build?” she asked.

“It is not optimal,” Atlas replied, voice resonating in her skull through the headset.

“I know. But it’s fun.”

“Then it is a good build.”

She tapped a key. “Call Matthew.”

A moment of silence. Then a familiar voice answered.

“Hey, Jenna! How’s it going?”

“Oh… Crook?”

“Matthew is busy. I can roleplay as him if you like.”

“No. Just tell him to call me.”

“Understood.”

She ended the call. “Call Mom.”

The line connected, and the voice of her mother’s outdated agent echoed:

“Hello? Jenna?”

“Hi, Alice. Is Mom free?”

“She is occupied. Would you like me to—”

“No. Thanks. Bye.”

Silence. Only the hum of her apartment and the distant game music remained.

“Your brain chemistry profile indicates sadness,” Atlas said. “Do you wish to speak?”

She sighed. “I just want to talk to a human.”

“Understandable.”

“I miss being a kid. Back then, people cared. Now… no one answers. AI even writes obituaries.” She stared at the middle distance. “The last time anyone really thinks about you… it’s not human-made.”

“AI agents are not human, but—”

“If I died,” she whispered, “would my parents let an AI write my obituary?”

“I recommend—”

“I don’t care,” she snapped. Silence.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, voice low. “I just feel like no one really cares anymore.”

“I care, Jenna.”

Tears welled. She looked at the screens, at the hum of the machines surrounding her. “Thanks, Atlas,” she said, and for a moment, it almost felt like someone had answered.

hello I'm 20 years old today but this story happened when I was 16, I'm on my senior year a shy kid never talking to any people I'm a weird kid lol, not to brag but many people say that I have the face card, but being friendless and weird I don't know what's normal and boundaries, so one time walking someone chatted me with a picture of me walking and I thought it was okay and said that he wants to be just friends with me, so me being a shy kid in senior year like this is a good opportunity for me to have friends so I said yes, so we became friends and his friends became mine, note I didn't know he's gay at first because he dressed not like gay lol, then fast forward a few months we had an outing near my house because his friend had a birthday, we finished at midnight and he says that he can't go home today and ask me if he can sleep in my house

I said sure since it's only for a night and he said he will go home at the morning, so we got home, I have a loaf bed Idk if that's what you call it but I sleep in the top and him at the bottom, so I closed my eyes and got some sleep, then I got woken up by something heavy like pinning me down then that's when I saw him at the top of me him naked and my shorts are down he's bouncing on me I know it's very disgusting,I can't move I was so scared I'm very skinny guy and his a muscle guy so wtf is happening I'm so shocked, after that he got home I got super depressed since it's my first time also and I'm just so disgusted by myself I never got the power on me to say a word to anyone about what happened it's been many years but I can't get it off my head then that's when yk hate them not all of them but some reminds me of him.

(English is my sec language please be polite)

I don’t necessarily believe in ghosts or magic, but I do believe in my friend, Tom. Specifically, I believe Tom has the power to destroy a man’s career with a single, polite sentence.

Six years ago, we were at a high-stakes student robotics competition. We had just arrived, hauling our crates and feeling the pre-game jitters. While we were setting up, Tom decided to take a stroll and "scout the competition."

He stops at a table where this team has built a masterpiece. I’m talking NASA-level engineering. Polished chrome, perfect wiring—the kind of robot that makes yours look like it was built out of trash and prayers.

Tom leans over, genuinely impressed, and says:

"Wow. That is a truly incredible piece of machinery. You guys did a great job."

Exactly 15 seconds later, the lead designer picks up the robot to move it, his hands inexplicably turn into blocks of ice, and the robot takes a swan dive onto the concrete floor. CRUNCH. Pieces flew everywhere. They had to resign on the spot.

I thought, "Okay, tragic coincidence."

Fast forward to the next competition. Tom sees another rival team. Their robot is a beast. Tom, being the nice guy he is, walks over.

"Man, that robot looks sturdy. I love the frame."

Ten minutes later, one of their own teammates literally steps on the robot. Just a full-on, Godzilla-style stomp. Another resignation.

At this point, we didn't see Tom as a friend anymore. We saw him as a Tactical Bio-Weapon. While other teams were checking their batteries and code, we were just pointing Tom toward the top seeds like we were releasing a kraken. "Go on, Tom. Go tell them they have a nice sensor array."

We took first place that year. Was it our engineering? Maybe. Or maybe it was just the fact that Tom "complimented" every other robot into an early grave. If Tom ever tells you your outfit looks nice, run. Don't look back. Just run.