Kafkaesque Stories

Glimberly of Evermore is a thrilling story that will unlock chambers of emotions you never thought possible before. You will grow attachment to characters, smile, cry, throw a cup (perhaps), maybe even give your dog a hug. Glimberly of Evermore is surely a literary showpiece that mustn't be taken for granted. Enjoy.

Every day, Clara wakes up to the same sequence of events, regardless of her intentions or actions. Her coffee spills at 8:05 AM, a bird taps her window at 9:13 AM, her phone rings with no one on the other end at 12:07 PM. No matter what she tries, she cannot alter this sequence. She starts to question if she's a character trapped in someone else's narrative, struggling against an unseen author's script.

((Previously known as Bleeding Darkness)) Grasping reality. Ignoring the world. Embracing fantasy. Running from the voices. A tragicomedy, The world is; With happy-go-luckies And sad cynics. Confusing thoughts are tossed back and forth, In the mind of a fourteen year old. No minds are alike, Opinions expressed are welcome! Stealing is not brave, It's cowardly indeed. Steal my poem, steal my soul, And you will have a grave.

In Inxo's world, the skeletal city rose to the sky like a carcass of concrete. Each block was identical, each street mirroring the next. The air smelled faintly of machinery and order, of ozone and old metal. People said the city was efficient. Every morning he left his apartment, adjusted the strap of his watch, and traced the same path across the gray pavement. He jogged along streets with no trees, watched the tram pass its endless route, walked past buildings with glassless windows, walls scrawled with official stamps, and returned home as if nothing had moved but himself. One day he opened the dating app Mune. Faces appeared, faces he did not recognize. One face lingered. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. A faint smile that reached beyond the picture, into something he did not yet understand. Onda. He clicked, and the machinery of his life began to shift.

"Shadows of the Rain" is a haunting literary tale that follows Erza, a young woman whose life was shaped by a single night of storms, secrets, and irreversible loss. At the age of five, Erza watches her world collapse,her parents' violent argument, her mother's mysterious disappearance, and her father's sudden decision to leave for America. Abandoned in the old alleys of Rabat and raised by her grandmother, she grows up surrounded by ancient stories, heavy rain, and the unsettling presence of something she cannot name. Now, at twenty-three, Erza returns to the buried corners of her memory,only to discover that not everything she remembers is only a memory... and not everything that left her life truly left. A story filled with psychological depth, poetic narration, and chilling suspense, Shadows of the Rain explores the thin line between childhood innocence and the dark truths that follow us into adulthood. If you enjoy atmospheric, emotional, and mysterious stories with a touch of Kafka-like darkness, this tale will stay with you long after the last page.

The man, whose name was Joseph, had lived in his apartment for as long as he could remember. It was a small, cramped space, but he had always felt safe and comfortable there. One day, as he was leaving his apartment, he noticed the electrical wires at the doorway...

A dying man, unable to learn new things, stuck in a miserable life where he thinks death could only save him from dying a painful and lonely death. The writer, who intervene from time to time into the narrative, doesn't really let the first person narrator tell the story. Who is this writer? Who's this narrator? Why are they trying to tell a story? fuck'em.

Is everyone looking at you? Do they all know the secret that you are trying so desperately to hide? Can you live under a suspicion of guilt even when you're not guilty of anything? This is a dark tale of magical realism bordering on surrealism. Be confused, be scared, where does the anxiety lead us, what can it make us do? This is a story you're not supposed to enjoy.

A man's first night in Elbour (Melbourne, Australia) and he is instantly drawn in by it's intoxicating airs.

Levi Athan was having a regular day at the office until he discovered that his shady business dealings hold rather dire implications for his wellbeing after a mysterious transformation. In the the fine tradition of Kafka, and with a hearty poke at Melville, comes Levi Athan in a literary romp that explores the deeper significance of saline solution and krill!

It is a simple story about two people meeting at a house party. Absolutely nothing special happens. There aren't even many conversations. One could argue that the story is interesting because of all the things that are not happening. Have you ever experienced a situation that you just couldn't make sense of? That's probably because you're thinking only about what did happen, without giving enough attention to what didn't happen. You'll understand this when you read the story. Only suitable for those who enjoy spending more time thinking about a story than actually reading it. Also my first story.

Hopper is a government superhero who just wants to make ends meet - fighting crime by night and filling out paperwork by day. Although she leads a simple life, she does yearn for greater things and an unexpected event just might open the door for her =An absurdist capepunk short story, the first one I ever wrote=

In a world where obedience is procedure and nakedness is protocol, one man dares to ask... why? The Naked Logic of Order is a chilling, cerebral descent into the machinery of blind compliance. Surreal, haunting and disturbingly familiar, this short story holds a mirror to systems that normalize absurdity... and dares you to look away. Read it if you have ever wondered what lies behind the word "procedure." Read it if you haven't. Because sometimes, the most dangerous thing in the room is not rebellion... It's a question.

Human history, seemingly a grand stream flowing toward enlightenment, is in truth nothing more than an endless cycle of old mistakes dressed in new skins. Concepts shaped by societal norms gradually take root, embedding themselves deeply into our moral codes-like a curse-using the mask of law to conceal the basest of instincts: to conquer, to exploit, to dominate. "Why does the world choose to function this way?" Every answer is relative. Perhaps the most fitting response is none at all. Like silent walls, small and hidden individuals choose not to respond-merely to stand, witness, and remain quiet, as if they too understand that every explanation is ultimately meaningless. In a society governed by its own set of rules, faith becomes a dangerous concept for the lost individual wandering through the dark forest-because anything strong enough to inspire belief is also strong enough to deceive. Life, perhaps, is not a sequence of actions but a prison of invisible walls-built from prejudice, tradition, duty, and fear. And the most terrifying thing is this: that one day, we might grow so used to this prison we no longer recognize it for what it is. Emptied awareness-just one moment of recognition-is sometimes enough to shatter a person's entire childhood. No fists are needed. No violence. Just let the powerful redefine values-and even the most innocent child becomes a tool. Language becomes a weapon. Social norms are forged to make us forget how to feel, to stop questioning, and to erase our capacity to resist. Yet life must go on-even if the reality is that every deviation will be swallowed by the system. The greatest power is not coercion-but to convince the victim that they are making the right choice. "Reality"-we perceive it not to learn how to endure, But so we never forget what humans are capable of When they truly believe they are doing the right thing.

Acrostic poem on Franz Kafka's "The Metamorphosis".

"The day she met the Dinosaur On The Wall, she had unknowingly already been living in his Cave for two days. [...] Her dreams, though paralyzing, were passing, not much like her reality, that she tried to run from."

Dystopian science fiction short story peppered with references from Hindu Mythology. Influenced by works of Kafka and Dostoevsky.

Brief Tales of the Abstruse - Abysmal. Offside. Whimsical. A telephone rings even though no one has dialed. A man lives in a house that swaps rooms every night. A child collects shadows in preserving jars. Stories like these could be written here. Some already are. Others are still waiting to be told. This collection brings together short episodes from the fringes of the intelligible - bizarre, disturbing, sometimes funny, never unambiguous. Anyone reading here must be prepared to leave familiar rules behind. Because nothing remains as it seems.