Suspense
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The Last Firewall
Ethan Ray Episode 1 – The Breach The lights of Manhattan flickered once, twice, then died. Traffic signals froze in the middle of rush hour. Elevators locked between floors. Screens inside Times Square went blank, the usual neon chaos swallowed in sudden silence. For a moment, the city stood suspended in a strange twilight of…
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The Last Tram to Esplanade
Sandip Chakraborty 1 The tram bell chimed faintly, its echo vanishing into the hushed expanse of Esplanade. Midnight in Kolkata had its own kind of silence—a silence alive with the creak of tram rails, the hiss of distant buses, and the occasional bark of stray dogs. Arup Chatterjee, in his worn khaki uniform, stood at…
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Shadows Over the Strait
Aarav Knight The Forgotten Map The ocean has its own language, a shifting alphabet of waves and whispers that few can read. Daniel Rourke had spent five years staring at satellite screens, translating that secret script into data points for his employers in London, yet nothing in his training prepared him for what flickered across…
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Whispers of the Green Veil
Arjun Malhotra Episode 1: The Edge of the Unknown The forest began where the last fields ended, as though the earth itself had drawn a line that man dared not cross. From a distance, it looked like a wall of green, dense and silent, but up close it was something stranger—something alive. The trees seemed…
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The Vanishing Ledger
Arjun Malhotra The Broken Lock The house stood at the far end of Chitpur Road like a stubborn relic, refusing to collapse even as the rest of north Kolkata modernized and decayed in equal measure. Its high arched windows were shattered, its stucco walls streaked with moss, and weeds sprouted in wild abandon from the…
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Ganges Murders
Sudarshan Tripathi 1 The first light of dawn spread over Varanasi, turning the Ganges into a molten ribbon of gold and crimson. Dashashwamedh Ghat was just waking—priests arranging lamps for the day’s rituals, pilgrims dipping themselves into the sacred waters, and vendors setting up their stalls along the steps. The city breathed a timeless rhythm,…
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The Vanishing Sketch
Arjun Mehta Part 1 – The Disappearance The Delhi Metro was alive with its usual evening rush—voices overlapping, the metallic shriek of sliding doors, hurried footsteps pounding the tiled platforms. Inside the swaying compartments, the city pressed itself into tight spaces, strangers brushing shoulders, the air thick with the scent of perfume, sweat, and the…
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Room 417
Meera Chandrani Part 1 — The Envelope The envelope was the colour of old bones—thin, brittle, and unreasonably light. It was waiting on my desk when I returned from a morning beat at the magistrate’s court, wedged under my keyboard as if it had crawled there and died. No sender’s name, no return address, just…
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The Forgotten Festival
Rahul Malhotra One The summer sun was already high when Rohan, Anya, Kabir, and Tara found themselves assigned to the same group for their history project, a mundane school task about the “lost traditions of Himachal.” At first, they treated it with typical teenage indifference, expecting a few hours of research in the library and…
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Crimson Monsoon
Ayan Mehta 1 The rains had not stopped for three days, and in the heart of Kochi’s old port area, the swollen waters had turned every lane into a stream. On the fourth morning, as the sky remained heavy with dark monsoon clouds, police were called to a derelict warehouse by the shore. Inside, half-submerged…
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72 Hours in Bhopal
Kabir Anand 1 The old ceiling fan in Detective Inspector Meenal Rathore’s apartment made a dry, rhythmic creak as it turned in the summer night heat. She sat at her desk in a sleeveless kurta, case files spread open, a mug of cold tea forgotten at her elbow. The city outside was quieter than usual,…
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The Ledger of Ghosts
Kiran Vale Part 1: The Night Market I never wanted to be seen—not by cameras, not by shareholders, not by the people who carry their hunger like a country on their backs. If you’re looking for villains, you expect a face. I prefer vectors: numbers that travel when no one is watching. Call me what…