Secrets
THE DAY MY MOTHER TOLD ME THE TRUTH ABOUT MY FATHER
I was seventeen when my mother sat me down at the kitchen table, the same one where I had done my homework and eaten birthday cake for years. The afternoon light came through the window, turning the dust in the air into tiny floating stars. She had been quiet all morning, moving slowly, her face pale in a way that made me nervous. I thought she was sick, or maybe she had lost her job. I didn’t expect her to change everything I believed about my life.
By Alpha Man3 months ago in Confessions
THE NIGHT MY BEST FRIEND DISAPPEARED
It has been ten years since the night my best friend disappeared, but I still remember every detail as if it happened yesterday. The smell of rain, the faint hum of streetlights, the sound of her laughter fading into the dark. Some nights I still wake up hearing her voice calling my name.
By Alpha Man3 months ago in Confessions
“The Last Letter She Never Read”
I met her on a quiet Tuesday evening at a bookstore tucked between two abandoned shops. She was standing in the poetry section, her fingers tracing the spines of old books with the kind of reverence that made me stop in my tracks. I didn’t know it then, but that moment would mark the start of something I would never forget.
By Alpha Man3 months ago in Confessions
Marina Meets Taylor. Content Warning.
As much as I envy her lifestyle, I do fear that it will catch up with her one day! Marina lay comfortably stretched on her couch, with an excellent wine on the table beside her and the TV tuned to her favorite late-night show. She gently mused away and let her mind wander to all that could have been.
By Sacha Sutama3 months ago in Confessions
"DO NOT DO LAUNDRY AFTER 10 PM" [ II ]
Part Two — They Remember Their Owners I didn’t go near the basement for two days. I kept myself busy with work, cooking, anything that would keep me distracted. But every night, right at 10:03 PM, the apartment seemed to hum with something alive. At first, it was subtle — a faint vibration through the walls, like water running through old, tired pipes. Then, gradually, it grew louder. There was rhythm to it. A pulse. A steady, mechanical heartbeat that didn’t belong in any normal building.
By iam Raja3 months ago in Confessions
"DO NOT DO LAUNDRY AFTER 10PM" [ I ]
Part One — The Rule When I moved into Pinewood Apartments, I thought the creepiest thing about it was the smell — that strange cocktail of rust, detergent, and the faint sweetness of something old, like time had soaked into the walls and refused to leave. The building itself looked harmless enough: red brick, a few weeds sprouting between the cracks, a faded welcome mat that had seen better days. But then I saw the laundry room door.
By iam Raja3 months ago in Confessions
We Fell in Love Too Late
The first time I saw her, she was laughing in the rain. I was running late for a train, soaked to the bone, clutching a coffee that had already gone cold. She stood there—under a broken umbrella, smiling at the sky as if the storm had arrived just to dance with her.
By Alpha Man3 months ago in Confessions
Alessia Scita: The Essential Arithmetic of the Heart
I have always believed that wisdom can emerge from the most unexpected places—not just from the hallowed halls of academia or the boardrooms of power, but in the everyday conversations, in the quiet reflections of young people finding their footing in the world. When a young woman, someone like Alessia Scita, shares a piece of her personal philosophy with the world, it invites us all to pause and truly listen. Her observations, delivered with the clarity and directness that comes with truly seeing a truth for yourself, strike at the core of what it means to connect, what it means to love.
By Kate Hydeen3 months ago in Confessions
The Difference Between Hatred and Holy Intolerance
There is a dangerous confusion in today’s world. People are told that loving others means accepting everything they say, everything they do, and everything they believe. But love without truth is not love. It is surrender and cowardice disguised as compassion.
By Peter Thwing - Host of the FST Podcast3 months ago in Confessions
