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Include a moment in which someone knocks on a door right before or after midnight.

Posted in Short Story on Nov 28, 2025

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✍️ 54 stories

The Ravens Who Watch

Shortlisted for Contest #331 ⭐️

Ravens are curious creatures. They hunt for food as we do, they solve problems as we do, and they entertain themselves as we do. But some are unlike the others. Some just watch. They observe, they learn, they wait, sometimes for centuries, just to be human once more…I moved to Ísafjörður from London in August for a postgrad – being unsure of what I wanted in life, but knowing I would hang myself working at a 9-to-5 desk job. It’s a small town in the Westfjords of Iceland that's so far hidden that even the ring road, which goes around most of...

68 likes 33 comments 33
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The Noise Collector.

Submitted to Contest #331

Another day, whispering to my own thoughts, counting every step as if it might quiet the voice in my skull, the one that repeats, again and again, that I am too much, and that being too much is never enough in a world that prefers me silent. Silence, for me, was an utopy. Something I`ve never know in my 34 years of life. Silence was a privilege reserved for those blessed with an average mind, and average always sounded idyllic to me. Silence was romance, the soft echo of a laugh. Silence was understanding social rules without dissecting them...

56 likes 34 comments 34
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Lost and Found

Submitted to Contest #331

Spending the new years in Manhattan seems like a magical time, right? NOT if you’re a Cabbie. Oh the insanity of full contact traffic, random road closures, and dealing with drunk and horny riders messing up my upholstery. With the whole town hungover, and at the countdown, TriBeca was deserted. I already turned off my cab’s roof light, and decided to stick solely to big ticket Uber/Lyft rides, since ushering sloshed tourists to Times Square wasn’t really worth my effort. I was focused on peacefully welcoming the new year, scribbling my reso...

44 likes 30 comments 30
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Should I Grovel at His Feet

Submitted to Contest #331

I need some guys who know how to kick butt and take names, but all I have are priests who sweep and meditate. "I'm at my wits' end. I've got to do something to free Alora from that madman." I said as Bob meditated. "Don't interrupt." I know Bob's a shaman, and he loves to meditate, but I'm too worked up to stop now. "Who knows what Targon is doing to Alora. Not that I'm too worried, she's tougher than most, well, than everyone, but it's the principle that matters." "What part of don't interrupt do you not understand?" Bob said without openi...

44 likes 24 comments 24
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Midnight at Number Twelve

Submitted to Contest #331

Snow held the world in place. It blurred Pinebridge into soft shapes and muffled sounds until Willow Street felt a mile deep and centuries old. At Number Twelve, Maren Burke sat at her kitchen table with a candle burning low in a chipped saucer, its flame barely holding the room together. The rest of the house was quiet, the kind of winter quiet that felt like someone had taken a breath and forgotten to let it out.A stack of sealed envelopes sat in front of her, tied with a blue ribbon. Her handwriting in the return corner. The recipient lin...

23 likes 3 comments 3
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Esplanade

Submitted to Contest #331

It was too warm outside to leave the pies on the porch the way Lillian would have back when the kids lived at home. She put them in the spare room instead (the one that used to be Jodie’s before it was Kristin’s), and turned the ceiling fan on hoping that would take the temperature down far enough to keep the apple and blueberry cool until the following afternoon. It was just after midnight, and she was behind on her cooking. This never used to happen, but when Ken passed away, she found herself becoming less and less punctual. Retirement ha...

21 likes 14 comments 14
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Jazz and a Little Bit of Whiskey

Submitted to Contest #331

Peter poured himself a whiskey, letting the ice clatter against the sides of the glass. The drink was still warm, and as it met the cold, a faint crackling spread through the quiet room like tiny bones snapping. He took a slow sip and instantly regretted it. Whiskey, even the cheap kind he kept around, always awakened the phantom craving for a cigarette — a craving he hadn’t indulged in for more than ten years. Yet, like every night, he resisted. Barely, but he did.A soft, melancholic jazz record spun on his turntable — the one expensive thi...

20 likes 0 comments 0
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Bittersweet

Submitted to Contest #331

‘I have so many memories of him,’ Eira said to her granddaughter, ‘but it’s one of the earliest ones that I always go back to, the first night he came knocking. It’s a beautiful memory. I notice it’s always the most beautiful memories that give you the most pain, like a price to pay for all the happiness you got in the moment. Later, when that person’s gone, and you finally, definitely know they’ll never be back, it’s the memories of the good times that’ll haunt you, with a sweetness that makes their absence so very, very bitter.’A china tea...

20 likes 9 comments 9
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Conrad's Winter

Submitted to Contest #331

The horses had been put up, covered in wool stable blankets and surrounded with extra hay, their feedbags filled with oats and molasses. The barn was cold when he brought them in, but within minutes their body heat would press against the faded wooden walls and they would be warm during the night. The white egg yolk sun had promised snow tonight, and despite his long list of sins, neglect of his animals was not one of them. He brought the dogs in, and they went straight to the woodstove to curl up, noses tucked into soft fur. He closed the ...

18 likes 7 comments 7
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Nian, The Ancient Monster

Submitted to Contest #331

(The story contains theme of bullying) The clouds gathered, growing heavier. Ying’s tears had already dried, leaving faint streaks across her face. She squatted down, blood seeping from her scraped knees. Lifting her head, she stared upward - the sky fractured into countless squares. A mesh fence stretched above her, enclosing the deep pit of the playground where she sat. The pits - meant for trees – remained empty, turning into tools for the bullies. She wept and shouted, but no one came to rescue her. Above the pit, more clouds gathered. ...

17 likes 10 comments 10
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Fundamental Matter

Submitted to Contest #331

CW: contains allusions to child abuse and death. Maris is a beautiful woman if you like them ice cold. Her blonde hair is styled in an immaculate chignon and she has such a little waist. Waspish, one might say. Tonight she is at a party hosted by a neighbour, tinkling and twinkling with her dry martini in one hand and a Sobranie cigarette in the other. But, despite her supremacy amongst the shackled wives, she is bored. There are no conquests to be made in this vanilla landscape. Who knew that plain women could be so Valkyrie-like in the pr...

17 likes 14 comments 14
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No Place Like Home

Submitted to Contest #331

Whittaker walked up Pilgrim Road, deliberately splashing into the puddles left behind by the night’s downpour. He enjoyed the rain. April showers and all. He smiled at that. He also enjoyed the lightning and thunder that had accompanied the storm. Despite his age, Whittaker never felt wet, even shrouded as he was in the cold mist. Come to think of it, he didn’t feel cold either. Still, he was keen to get home. Oscar, no doubt, would be hiding under the bed just waiting to curl up in Whittaker’s lap -- no small feat for a fat old lab. Some ca...

17 likes 9 comments 9
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Forgotten.

Submitted to Contest #331

Three girls remained in the mess hall, surrounded by half-eaten plates, empty tumblers, and jackets slung over chairs.They’ve been here the longest. Only three girls—not including me.Never including me.I had watched since the hall was buzzing with energy, laughter that echoed. Feet thumping on the ground. And then they began filing out, like blood rushing through veins. The room itself had grown smaller.I sat in the corner, pressing my temple against the cool plaster of the wall. The afternoon sun dragged across the floorboards—too bright, t...

17 likes 3 comments 3
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Harmony at the door

Submitted to Contest #331

1.Harmony—once my best friend, before she vanished into the quarry dam a decade ago—woke Cameron and, with him, half the cul-de-sac with his unnatural, high-pitched barking and the clamouring of my front door at exactly three minutes to midnight. Some things never change. I sat up so fast my vision went white at the edges. For a second I thought it was the dream again—the Well, the hands climbing out of stone—but the sound didn’t stop. Bark. Claw. Slam. Wood shuddering in its frame. Cameron stood in the bedroom doorway, hackles raised, barki...

16 likes 2 comments 2
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The End

Submitted to Contest #331

A pulsating pain radiated through my stomach. I doubled over, clutching my midsection, then forced my head up, eyes darting around for a possible escape.A flicker of neon caught my attention—an ugly, blocky sign that read Convenience. The irony not lost on me as I rounded the corner, silently praying to every god I knew that the place would still be openClosed.Panic streaked through my mind. I was about to give birth. Two burritos and a bag of chips seemed to be using my intestine as a race track. Would I have to soil my pants? No, I resolut...

16 likes 3 comments 3
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