Psychological

Letters to the Future Me
Letters to the Future Me It started on a Tuesday. I was pouring cereal at my tiny kitchen table when I noticed the envelope lying beside my bowl. Brown paper, neatly folded, with my name written in cursive I didn’t recognize. I opened it with cautious curiosity.
By waseem khan6 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Knew How You’d Die
The Man Who Knew How You’d Die The bus smelled faintly of wet asphalt and stale coffee. It was late—past midnight—and only a handful of passengers sat scattered in their seats, staring at their phones or watching the city blur past.
By waseem khan6 months ago in Fiction
The Visitor. Top Story - August 2025. Content Warning.
The first flash came at 7:17 p.m. Eliza sat up in her cot, eyes wide in the dark room. The sterile white walls of Ward B had blinked with blue light—like a camera flash—illuminating the hallway just outside her door. She scooted back against the cold wall, shoving the pillow into her lap. She studied the crack under the door—waiting, listening.
By Tennessee Garbage6 months ago in Fiction
A Final Glimpse. Top Story - August 2025.
The evening of June 1st began with a mild fever around 8pm on a quiet Thursday. The kind where a light sweat beads on the forehead without knowing the cause or reason...
By Lamar Wiggins6 months ago in Fiction
After. Content Warning.
Content advisory, adult themes. Reader discretion is advised. -0- Stars danced before my eyes. I couldn’t breathe. Blissful sensation flooded through me, pleasure like a tidal wave crashing into my awareness. I pressed closer, body trembling as the breath I didn’t know I was holding escaped in a long, shuddering gasp.
By Alexander McEvoy6 months ago in Fiction
The Astronaut Who Broke Down on Mars
No one ever talks about the silence. Not the kind you find in a library, or a late-night street, or a quiet bedroom. This was heavier—like the air itself was gone, and all that was left was the sound of my own blood moving in my ears.
By Emad Iqbal6 months ago in Fiction
Echoes of My Name
The sterile white ceiling swam into focus as a throbbing headache clawed at my skull. I groaned and tried to move, but my limbs felt like they were made of lead, each muscle aching in protest. A piercing ringing filled my ears.
By Khan Ali6 months ago in Fiction
The Final Obsession: Joe Goldberg's Last Stand in *You* Season 5
You* Season 5, the final chapter of Netflix’s psychological thriller, brings Penn Badgley’s Joe Goldberg full circle to New York City—the origin of his bloody saga. Married to billionaire CEO Kate (Charlotte Ritchie) and reunited with his son Henry, Joe appears reformed. But beneath his curated "happily ever after," his compulsions simmer, igniting a chain of events that culminate in his poetic downfall .
By Danyal Hashmi6 months ago in Fiction
The backyard
Matcha Lattes on Sundays, that was the current ritual. And, as we got older and the opportunities for late nights at the club turned into evenings with face masks, giggling about past nights at the club, which then became, “we need another face mask night,” we clung to the matcha dates.
By Athena Pajer6 months ago in Fiction
The Recipe for Empathy
1. The Inheritance of Impossibilities I became a doctor to fix people, not feel them. Then Grandma Mae died, leaving me her crumbling Brooklyn brownstone and the Codex of Comfort—a cookbook whispering in Gaelic when I touched it.
By Habibullah6 months ago in Fiction
*The Whispering Library*
In the quiet corner of a forgotten town stood a library older than memory. Its stone walls were veiled in ivy, its windows perpetually misted, as though the building breathed in secrets and exhaled silence. Most people passed it without a glance. Few dared to enter. But Amina did.
By meerjanan6 months ago in Fiction
The Chair by the Window. AI-Generated.
Mara had been in the apartment for three days before she noticed the chair. It wasn’t an extraordinary chair—wooden, low-backed, scuffed on the legs—but it sat in the far corner by the window as though it had been put there deliberately. The cushions were sun-faded on one side, as if someone had sat there for years, facing the street.
By Mohammedseid Ahmedin6 months ago in Fiction