Theodore Homuth
Bio
Exploring the human mind through stories of addiction, recovery, and the quiet places in between.
Stories (12)
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One Step Closer
One Step Back, Two Shadows Forward by Theodore Homuth I should say upfront that I’ve never been one to put stock in signs or omens or any of that ethereal nonsense. People who swear by them—they’re the type who scan the world like it’s a cryptic crossword puzzle, connecting dots that were never meant to be linked. A license plate number that matches your birthday. A single white feather drifting down onto a cracked sidewalk in the dead of winter. Dreams that linger like half-remembered conversations, whispering promises of destiny when they’re really just your brain recycling yesterday’s stress. I’ve always been wired differently, grounded in the tangible, the stuff that leaves marks you can’t ignore. Rent receipts crumpled in my pocket, stained with coffee rings from too many late nights. Calluses etched into my palms from gripping a mop handle too tightly. The dull, insistent ache in my lower back after pulling a double shift at some dead-end gig, the kind that makes you wonder if your spine is plotting a quiet rebellion.
By Theodore Homuth22 days ago in Fiction
The Verge
The Verge by Theodore Homuth Elena had never been afraid of hard work. She had learned young that love and obligation often shared the same shelves. Her mother, a stubborn optimist, taught her that running their café was more than a business—it was a promise to the community, a gathering place woven out of warmth, music, and coffee.
By Theodore Homuthabout a month ago in Psyche
Through the Walls
Through the Walls by Theodore Homuth The apartment had its own kind of silence—thin, brittle, and stretched too tight. It wasn’t peaceful. Peace required steadiness. This was the kind of silence that trembled, like it expected something to break at any moment. The only sounds were the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional ping from Sarah’s phone, bright as a slap in the quiet.
By Theodore Homuth2 months ago in Psyche
Hidden Truth
Hidden Truth by Theodore Homuth They wake before the sun, as they always do, the kind of early that leaves the world gray and soft, edges blurry. The first few minutes are quiet, almost sacred—no one asking for explanations, no tests, no numbers, just the steady rhythm of breath. But the body never waits for calm. A dull, gnawing ache coils in their stomach, spreading to the ribs and shoulders, a reminder that even here, even now, nothing is simple.
By Theodore Homuth2 months ago in Psyche
The Waiting Room
The Waiting Room The waiting room smells like wet paper and lemon sanitizer. I’ve been here before, though the walls are a different color now — pale green instead of beige — as if someone decided recovery needed freshness. It doesn’t help. Everything in here feels used, like it’s been waiting longer than any of us.
By Theodore Homuth2 months ago in Psyche
Carnival Carney
The Midway Amusement Park in Willow Creek, Ohio, was a relic of better days, its rusted roller coasters and faded carnival tents glowing under LED lights that promised more than they delivered. It was 2027, and the world was drunk on tech—self-driving cars, neural implants, and whispers of AI that could think faster than God. But here, in this forgotten corner of America, the air still smelled of popcorn and desperation.
By Theodore Homuth3 months ago in Fiction
Gambler's Hope
A Gambler's Hope by Theodore Homuth Homuthbooks.com Lila sat at the slot machine, her fingers trembling as she fed another crumpled bill into the flashing maw. The casino’s neon glow bathed her in a false promise of fortune, the air thick with cigarette smoke and desperation. She was down to her last twenty, rent due in three days, and the electric bill already two weeks late. But the pull of the lever, the spinning reels, kept her rooted. One win, she told herself. One win could fix it all.
By Theodore Homuth4 months ago in Fiction
Shadows of Potential
Shadows of Potential Elias Voss adjusted his tie in the reflection of the polished glass doors of Vortex Dynamics, the nonprofit's sleek facade gleaming under the Toronto midday sun. It was 2019, and the building— a modern edifice of chrome and tinted windows— masqueraded as a mental health outreach center, promising "healing through innovation." Elias knew better. This was the Clinic's front door, a veneer of legitimacy over the shadows where real work happened. At 32, he was still hungry, still convinced that places like Black Site 53 could rewrite the broken scripts of human minds. Delilah Kyros had recruited him personally, her words electric: "We don't patch souls, Dr. Voss. We forge new ones." He'd signed on without hesitation, blind to the costs that would come later.
By Theodore Homuth4 months ago in Fiction
The Quiet Apartment. Content Warning.
The Quiet Apartment By Theodore Homuth Mara pressed her ear against the wall again. It was 2:14 a.m., and the sound had returned—a soft, rhythmic thud-thud-thud, like a heartbeat buried in concrete. She had first noticed it a week ago, faint and irregular, pulsing through the paper-thin wall that separated her studio apartment from the vacant unit next door.
By Theodore Homuth4 months ago in Fiction
The Breach. Content Warning.
The Breach Entry #1: June 1, 2025 Location: Somewhere in the Nevada Desert The sky bled red tonight, like God Himself had torn open a vein. I'm crouched in the ruins of an old gas station, the air thick with dust and something......heavier. Evil, maybe. My hands are still shaking from the fight. There were three of them – those shadow-things with eyes like oil slicks – came for me at dusk. I drove my blade through one, whispered the old words, and it screamed like a soul being ripped asunder. The other two fled. For now.
By Theodore Homuth4 months ago in Fiction
