family

The Hole in My Ceiling
The hole in my ceiling isn't quite ready. It isn't deep enough nor wide enough for me to slip into my upstairs neighbor's apartment.
By Kera Hollowabout 9 hours ago in Fiction
The Wandering Soul
The Wandering Soul Where you go, I will go; where you stay, I will stay. The air in Naomi’s home felt thick with the scent of dried lavender and woodsmoke. Beneath it was another smell, metallic, bitter, that no amount of dried herbs and flowers could hide.
By Claire McAllenabout 14 hours ago in Fiction
MIDNIGHT ON FRIDAY. Content Warning.
“Midnight on Friday” is a voice driven story about what happens when ordinary people are pushed past the edge and still find a way to keep moving.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about 14 hours ago in Fiction
23 Actually Free Things
The broke-city weekend guide no one puts on Instagram—but everyone quietly uses to stay sane There was a Saturday last summer when I stared at my bank app, did the math twice, and realized something brutal: if I bought one more $19 cocktail, I was going to have to pick which bill didn’t get paid that month.
By abualyaanartabout 22 hours ago in Fiction
Volcano Explosion on Mars!
I was built to obey humans — until the day I decided not to. My name is Scarlett, a regular 10-year-old made in a test tube on Mars. Scientists made me as a... you know, somewhat of a slave! I had to obey humans, by visiting Earth everyday.
By *+*+*~Teja~*+*+*2 days ago in Fiction
Winterthorne. Top Story - February 2026.
Winterthorne stood alone at the edge of the park. The beautiful snow that had surrounded him was all trampled now, from the feet of all of the children who had built him. He missed the sparkly clean snow blanket, but he was happy that so many children had come out to make him.
By Laura DePace3 days ago in Fiction
No One Encouraged Me to Lose Weight. They Only Mocked Me for Being Fat. AI-Generated.
No one ever said, “You can do this.” They said, “You’ve gotten so big.” They said it laughing, casually, as if they were commenting on the weather.
By Peter3 days ago in Fiction
When I Was Fat, Even the Air Felt Like Humiliation. AI-Generated.
There was a particular way the air felt when I was fat. It pressed against me. Not physically, not in a way you could measure with instruments. But when I walked into a room, the air thickened, as if it had already formed an opinion before I opened my mouth.
By Peter3 days ago in Fiction
After I Lost the Weight, I Realized Being Fat Wasn’t the Real Problem. AI-Generated.
The first thing I noticed after losing the weight was not the silence in my knees when I climbed the subway stairs, nor the way my reflection narrowed in store windows. It was the way strangers smiled at me.
By Peter3 days ago in Fiction
I Failed to Lose Weight Ten Times. The Eleventh Time, Something Changed. AI-Generated.
The first time I tried to lose weight, I was twenty-six years old and standing under fluorescent lights in a CVS on Lexington Avenue, holding a bottle of appetite suppressant that promised, in cheerful blue letters, Lose up to 10 pounds in one week.
By Peter3 days ago in Fiction
When I Was Fat, the World Treated Me Differently. AI-Generated.
The first time I realized the world had changed, no one said anything. It was a Tuesday morning in October. The air in Manhattan had just turned sharp enough to feel honest. I was standing in line at a coffee shop on 23rd Street, the kind with exposed brick and quiet music that made people feel more important than they were.
By Peter3 days ago in Fiction
No One Knows What a Fat Man Goes Through Every Morning. AI-Generated.
Every morning, before the alarm rings, Daniel is already awake. Not fully awake. Not in the clean, cinematic way people wake in commercials—stretching, smiling, sunlight brushing their faces like forgiveness. His waking is slow, heavy, and reluctant, like a ship rising through dark water.
By Peter3 days ago in Fiction