Fiction
The Scream
Edvard Munch’s scream is another of my favorite paintings next to Nighthawks’. I have a T-shirt with The Scream 😱 by Edvard Munch. This painting is absolutely bright and incredible. It is a contradiction in a sense of warm colors, but a dark and deep theme. The Scream is the inner anxiety and torment of modern life and is as relevant today as the way Nighthawks are. In the Scream The dark figures represent anxiety and all the things we try to escape from and that is what the person who screams is a precise representation. The Scream is a masterpiece!
By Revista XCI by Rikki La Rouge 2 months ago in Art
Free Bold Easy Fall Nature Coloring Pages
Fall is a magical time when nature paints the world with warm golden leaves, cozy forest scenes, and peaceful woodland creatures. Our Fall Nature Coloring Pages invite you to step into that calm, colorful world and enjoy the changing season through creativity. These pages are perfect for both kids and adults who love nature, art, and cozy autumn vibes. With simple outlines and charming details, they make coloring peaceful, enjoyable, and stress-free.
By The Waiting Tree2 months ago in Art
How Do You Live While Falling Apart
How Do You Live While Falling Apart I wake up every morning inside the same body, yet it doesn’t feel like mine. The mirror greets me with the face of a stranger wearing my features, blinking with my eyes — but he isn’t me. I brush my teeth, tie my shoes, make my coffee — mechanical, precise movements, without life. It’s strange, existing without belonging to yourself. I wait for the day my body will feel like home again, But the days keep passing, and I’m still a guest inside my own skin. There’s a weight that follows me everywhere. Not heavy enough to make me collapse, But just enough to keep me tired all the time. People call it sadness, anxiety, or exhaustion. I call it noise. It whispers behind every thought, interrupts every moment of stillness. I try to drown it with music, with words, with anything that resembles life. But at night, when everything quiets down, Its voice rises. It fills the room, fills the bed. I tell myself I’m fine, That it’s just a phase, that everyone gets lost sometimes. But I know it’s more than that. It’s chaos. Not the loud kind — the quiet kind, Made of small, daily surrenders. You stop replying to messages, You stop explaining yourself, You stop expecting to be understood. And suddenly, you realize you’ve built an entire life out of pretending. I often wonder how people see me: calm, composed, reliable. No one realizes how much effort it takes to keep the mask in place. Inside, I’m negotiating constantly with my thoughts: Don’t say too much. Don’t show weakness. Don’t let them see your hands shake. The rules never end, and the punishment is shame. So I stay silent. I smile when I’m supposed to smile. I nod at the right time. And die a little every time I succeed. Sometimes I wonder: what if I stopped performing? What if I walked into a room and said, “I’m tired. I don’t know who I am anymore”? Would anyone know what to do with that truth, or would they turn away, Waiting for me to go back to the version of me they can handle? I’m afraid my honesty would scare them — And even more afraid that it wouldn’t. There’s a chair in my room that watches me. I know how absurd that sounds, But I can feel its gaze whenever I go quiet. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe it’s my conscience. Or maybe it’s the version of me that didn’t survive last year. Sometimes I whisper to it at night — softly, shyly — and it listens. I tell it about the dreams I stopped chasing, The people I pushed away, The parts of me that still ache. It never judges. It simply exists. They say healing takes time, But no one tells you that time alone doesn’t heal. It only rearranges the pain. Some days, the ache sits in my chest, On others, it hides in my throat. I’ve learned to live with it, The way one learns to walk with a limp. You adapt, you pretend, And convince yourself the limp is just your style. I think what frightens me most isn’t dying — It’s continuing like this. Waking, performing, living While detached from the script of my own life. I miss the days when I could feel, Even the bad feelings. Now everything is muted, Wrapped in cotton, As if my heart is submerged underwater. Maybe I’ll never go back to who I was. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe I had to lose my old self To learn how to live without illusions. And yet, I still wish I could meet myself again — The version that believed in mornings, That laughed, That didn’t have to pretend to be fine. Tonight, the room is quiet. Nothing but the sound of my breathing. I sit on the bed, Staring at the chair. It stares back. And for a brief, fleeting moment, I wonder if the chair isn’t really watching me — But I am. I am nothing but a shadow of who I once was. The people I trusted — they’ve already forgotten me. My mind betrays me every single day, whispering that happiness is just a lie I keep repeating to myself. Maybe the life I live isn’t even mine anymore. I keep showing up, breathing, moving, yet I’ve been disappearing in plain sight. And maybe, after all this time, I’m the stranger I’ve been running from.
By Ahmed Wagdy2 months ago in Art
Why Safety Switch Installation Is Essential for Protecting Your Home and Workplace
Electricity is a silent helper—it powers your lights, cools your home, and keeps your workplace running. But the same electricity that makes life easier can also be dangerous. A single fault in wiring or an unnoticed power surge can spark fires, damage equipment, or even cause electric shocks. That’s where a safety switch installation comes in acting as your first line of defense against hidden electrical dangers.
By Ellen Sammy3 months ago in Art
The Golden Secret of Yellow Bananas. AI-Generated.
In the sleepy village of Greenvale, young Timmy hated fruits. "They're sour and yucky!" he'd whine, tossing apples aside. His grandma, wise old Nana Rose, smiled knowingly. One sunny morning, she handed him a bright yellow banana. "Eat this, Timmy. It's nature's golden treasure." Timmy peeled it suspiciously but took a bite. "Mmm! Sweet!" From that day, he munched yellow bananas daily. Soon, wonders unfolded. First, Timmy's endless sniffles vanished. "Bananas have vitamin C," Nana explained. "They fight colds like superheroes!" Timmy played outside without tissues. Next, during soccer, Timmy sprinted faster than ever. "Potassium in bananas keeps your muscles strong and crampsy," Nana said. No more cramps—Timmy scored the winning goal! At school, Timmy aced math tests. "Bananas boost brain power with vitamin B6," Nana winked. Timmy felt sharp and happy, his mood sunny like the fruit. One evening, Timmy hugged Nana. "Yellow bananas are magic!" Nana laughed. "They're packed with fiber for digestion, antioxidants for health, and energy without crashes. Nature's perfect snack!"
By Omar Mohammed 3 months ago in Art
The Orchard's Secret: Red and Green Apples' Gifts. AI-Generated.
In the quaint village of Evergreen, nestled between rolling hills and a sparkling river, lived a curious boy named Alex. One sunny afternoon, Alex wandered into the old orchard owned by Grandma Rose, where rows of apple trees bore fruits in vibrant red and crisp green. "Why do some apples glow red like rubies, while others shine green like emeralds?" Alex asked, plucking one of each. Grandma Rose smiled and handed him a basket. "Let's discover their secrets together, dear. But first, taste them!" Alex bit into the red apple first. Its sweet, juicy flesh burst with flavor, warming his cheeks. "This one makes me feel happy and strong!" he exclaimed. Grandma nodded. "Red apples are packed with antioxidants like quercetin, which protect your heart and boost your immune system. They help lower bad cholesterol and keep your blood sugar steady, giving you energy without the crash." Excited, Alex reached for the green apple. It was tart and refreshing, crunching satisfyingly. "This one's zesty! It wakes me up!" Grandma laughed. "Green apples, like Granny Smith, are rich in fiber and vitamin C. They aid digestion, prevent constipation, and support weight loss by keeping you full longer. Their lower sugar content makes them perfect for steady energy and glowing skin." That evening, as Alex helped Grandma bake pies—one with red apples for sweetness and one with green for tang—they shared the treats with the village. Kids played longer without tiring, elders felt their joints ease, and everyone glowed with health. From then on, Alex visited the orchard daily, alternating between red and green apples. "Balance is the real magic," he told his friends. "Red for heart and joy, green for vitality and freshness!"
By Omar Mohammed 3 months ago in Art
The Little Leather Book
Cameron St. Patrick was like no other girl. She was born during the civil rights turbulence of the '60s. The hatred that Cameron witnessed as a child in her mind was commonplace. She remembered hearing stories of how blacks were under attack by whites, jews, and pretty much everyone. When Cameron witnessed violence in her neighborhood, it had no apparent effect on her as she lived a pretty sheltered life. It was just normal behavior on the dead-end street that Cameron grew up.
By PATRICE BISHOP YOUNG3 months ago in Art
