Thomas

Joined August 2025

17 stories

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Stories (17)

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How Lonely Are You?
It doesn’t always look like sitting alone in a dark room. Sometimes loneliness is laughing at a joke you didn’t hear just so you seem “part of it.” Sometimes it’s scrolling through your phone at 2 a.m., not because you care about the posts, but because the silence feels heavier than you want to admit.
By Thomas5 months ago in Psyche
When a Narcissistic Is Close to Leaving You, How Do You Act?
They don’t just leave you. They unravel you first. A narcissistic partner can be smiling at you one moment and silently planning their exit the next. They won’t slam the door—they’ll slip away emotionally long before their body walks out.
By Thomas5 months ago in Psyche
Can You Really Make Money Online? The Truth
The Question Everyone Asks If you’ve ever scrolled through YouTube at 2 a.m., you’ve probably seen them—smiling people in tropical locations claiming they make $10,000 a month from their laptop. “It’s easy,” they say, “You can do it too!”
By Thomas5 months ago in Motivation
How to Write a Story People Actually Want to Read
We’ve all been there sitting with a cup of coffee, fingers hovering over the keyboard, thinking, This is the one. You start typing, the words flow… and then, halfway through, you realize something’s wrong. It’s not bad, but it’s not exactly something you’d stay up until 2 a.m. to finish reading either.
By Thomas5 months ago in Lifehack
How to Save Money Without Giving Up the Life You Love
Let’s be real: who wants to save money if it means giving up coffee runs, weekend plans, or that dream trip? Most of us picture saving as brown-bagging it every day and saying “no” to everything fun. But here’s the thing you don’t have to live like a hermit to build savings.
By Thomas5 months ago in Longevity
The Silent Departure
It was a chilly fall night in rural Montana, the kind where the stars seemed to lean in close, whispering secrets to anyone who’d look up. Clara Thompson, a retired schoolteacher with a knack for noticing things, was sipping chamomile tea on her creaky porch swing. The air smelled of damp earth and wheat. She was halfway through her mug when a strange hum tickled her ears—not loud, more like the faint drone of a neighbor’s tractor left idling. Then the sky did something odd. It pulsed, a soft flicker of light that wasn’t a plane or a meteor. Clara set her tea down, squinting through her bifocals. Before she could make sense of it, a sleek, silver craft, no bigger than a delivery van, settled quietly into the wheat field across the road.
By Thomas5 months ago in Fiction
Art as a Medium for Personal Mythology
What if every dab of paint could tell the world who you really are? In a crumbling Victorian house in New Orleans, Lila Moreau found her refuge in a dusty attic. At 32, she was just another barista pouring coffee for strangers, fading into the background of a noisy city. But when she climbed those creaky stairs to her makeshift studio, paintbrush in hand, Lila transformed. Her canvas became a mirror, reflecting a mythology she was only beginning to understand—a story of strength, dreams, and a life she was scared to claim.
By Thomas5 months ago in Art
Echoes in the Empty Hall
Lena kicked a pebble along the cracked sidewalk, her sneakers scuffing the gravel as she passed the old school building. It was just past six, the sky fading to a soft lavender, and the air smelled of fallen leaves and damp earth. At seventeen, she was supposed to be home helping with dinner, but tonight, her feet had other plans. The abandoned school, with its sagging roof and ivy-choked bricks, had always been a backdrop to her walks home from the new high school across town. Her mom called it “the old heart of Mapleton,” full of stories from her own teenage years—dances, crushes, teachers who left a mark. Lena never paid much attention before, but lately, she’d felt restless, like she was searching for something to anchor her in this small town she sometimes dreamed of leaving.
By Thomas5 months ago in Fiction
The Mirror's Truth
Ever caught yourself believing a story about yourself that feels too good to question? In the small, pine-scented town of Willow Creek, Clara Bennett’s life looked like a dream. She was a hotshot lawyer, married to a kind man, and the kind of person everyone envied. But behind her polished smile, Clara was wrestling with a lie she told herself every day—one that threatened to unravel everything she’d built.
By Thomas5 months ago in Confessions
The Hidden Door
Elliot Grayson was twelve, all elbows and knees, stuck in the middle of Willowbrook Middle School’s social shuffle. He wasn’t a nobody, but he wasn’t a somebody either—just a kid who doodled dragons in his notebook and dodged the lunchroom chaos. Deep down, he ached for something more, a spark to break the monotony of math homework and rainy days. One gray Tuesday, with rain pelting the school windows, Elliot slipped into the basement to escape a wild game of tag. That’s when he saw it: a wooden door tucked behind a stack of dusty textbooks, its surface carved with swirls that seemed to glow faintly, like stars trapped in wood.
By Thomas5 months ago in Fiction
Combining Political and Fantasy Themes in Art. AI-Generated.
What if a single painting could light a fire in people’s hearts—or burn everything down? In the gritty streets of Eldren, where hope was as scarce as sunlight, Veyra Solis painted her truth. At 29, she was a nobody by day, blending into the city’s gray haze. But under cover of night, her paintbrush turned her into a rebel, splashing murals of dragons and ballots across crumbling walls. Her art wove politics and fantasy into stories that made people dream of something better—a world where they weren’t crushed under the Iron Council’s boot.
By Thomas5 months ago in Filthy
The Time Still
Evelyn Hart sat alone in her MIT lab, the hum of the Chrono-Stasis Device filling the silence. It was a small, silver box, unremarkable except for the impossible thing it could do: pause time. At 42, Evelyn had poured a decade into this machine, driven by a memory that never left her—her father’s heart attack, the ambulance too slow, the seconds slipping away. If she could stop time, she could stop that kind of pain. Tonight, she’d test it on herself, no longer content with petri dishes and plants.
By Thomas5 months ago in Filthy