Psychological
The Golden Diary
The attic had always been a forbidden place in the house. Dusty, dim, and filled with relics that no one cared about anymore, it seemed like a graveyard of forgotten objects. Yet, one late afternoon, curiosity pulled Zara toward it. The wooden stairs creaked beneath her feet, as though warning her to turn back. But she didn’t. Something in her heart told her that there was a story hidden there, waiting for her.
By Vocal Member 6 months ago in Fiction
Scripture of Bravery and Resilience
The passage is cheerful, and the street across is named unfearful. Couldn't decide on my own crossroads. The unfearful road winds me in. To leave behind the occupant who demands without asking was a breeze to lose consciousness.
By Johana Torres6 months ago in Fiction
The Town Where No One Remembers Yesterday
The Town Where No One Remembers Yesterday When time resets, trust no one. The first thing that struck Ethan Cross when he arrived in Bellwick was the silence. Not the peaceful kind, but a hollow quiet that seemed to swallow every sound. The quaint town, with its cobblestone streets and perfectly trimmed hedges, looked like a picture frozen in time. Yet something was off. The people smiled too easily, their eyes too vacant, as if the spark of recognition had been snuffed out long ago.
By Farooq Hashmi6 months ago in Fiction
Memory
All he had in his life was memory. The house sagged beneath the weight of years, timber groaning under rain and neglect. He moved through its narrow halls like a ghost, brushing dust from the shelves, touching remnants of lives once lived. Each object held her imprint, every shadow whispered her name.
By Vincent Otiri6 months ago in Fiction
Duty
All he had in his life was duty. The armor leaned against the wall, dented and scratched by decades of war. Each mark was a story, a memory of battles fought under scorching suns and storm-filled skies. His hands trembled as he polished the breastplate, tracing the gouges like a map of every life he had taken, every friend he had lost.
By Vincent Otiri6 months ago in Fiction
The Rules of the Street
The train screeched into the underground station; its brakes shrilled against steel. Joey stepped inside, careful as always. The ride was short—barely two miles—but in the city, distance mattered less than timing. Two miles could feel like a lifetime if you broke the rules.
By Anthony Chan6 months ago in Fiction
