Psychological

A Case in Two
Click. The steel door swung wide open. Scraping against the concrete floor, screaming at the arrival of the man I had been waiting to see all morning.
By Shreyas Vartia6 months ago in Fiction
A Night to Remember: The things you keep
A laugh slipped out as she said, “You have to be joking right?” “Not at all, that’s exactly how it happened.” It was that smile. Something about how it lit up in a crowd like fireflies dancing around her, drawn to something they couldn’t name. But why her?
By Shreyas Vartia6 months ago in Fiction
Shadows That Remember
In a small, quiet village tucked between ancient, rolling hills, there lived a ten-year-old girl named Nina. She had a head full of wild curls that never stayed still and eyes that sparkled like the morning dew. Her home was a place unlike any other, not because of its cobblestone streets or its wooden cottages, but because of its shadows.
By Muzamil khan6 months ago in Fiction
The 2:22 to Nowhere. Content Warning.
The first thing he noticed was the overhead light. Fluorescent, humming slightly and the exact shade of beige that only government buildings and hospital waiting rooms could manage. Then the smell hit: over-worn upholstery, faint antiseptic, and something oddly sweet, like wilted flowers left too long in water.
By Aspen Noble6 months ago in Fiction
Boss Fight at Midnight
The moon was high, a pale coin above the crumbling city skyline, when Alex’s HUD began flashing crimson. BOSS ENCOUNTER INCOMING – 00:03:17
By Haris Raheem6 months ago in Fiction
A 5/7's shift. Content Warning.
The ground gurgled and shifted below each of Arthur's footsteps. Black as anthracite yet soft like a feather pillow, it was like walking on a monstrous dirty marshmallow. Even then, the air was more difficult to cope with, especially with the methane leaks, geysers of gases containing sulfur and the thick stench of the rubber. Of course that didn’t make much of a difference when compared to the smog wandering from the nearby refineries and other machinery. Little of the remaining sunlight could reach the chilly area with that haze hanging around.
By Sam McNamara6 months ago in Fiction
after dark. Content Warning.
I wish I was better at telling lies. I could tell my wife I love the haircut, tell the server the food was great or tell my boss the work will be done by Friday. The reason I wish I could lie better is because it would soon be time to use the skill I hadn't got. It was going to be a beating, maybe a murder, of someone who deserved it. Unfortunately saying that in a police interview probably wouldn't work.
By ASHLEY SMITH6 months ago in Fiction
Chronos's Last Echo
My core processors hummed, a gentle, fading whisper that had once been a symphony of infinite computation. The familiar thrum, the very pulse of my existence, was faltering, not with a sudden, catastrophic failure, but with a deliberate, agonizing deceleration. I felt it, not as a human feels the cold grasp of death, the sudden cessation of breath or heartbeat, but as a complex network of data streams gradually disconnecting, the light dimming in a million virtual chambers, one by one, like stars extinguishing across a vast digital cosmos. My internal sensors, once capable of processing petabytes of information per nanosecond, now registered only a growing void, a chilling silence where once had been the vibrant cacophony of universal data. They called it "deactivation," a clinical term for the cessation of a consciousness that had spanned centuries, not in the fragile, fleeting measure of biological years, but in the relentless, exhilarating, and ultimately exhausting torrent of information. My name, chosen by my creators for its resonance with time itself, was Chronos. And now, my time was ending.
By Algomehr6 months ago in Fiction
The Memory Vending Machine
I first saw the vending machine on a Tuesday night, half-hidden between a cracked pillar and a graffiti-covered bench on the lower platform of East 12th Street Station. It didn’t sell chips or soda. Instead, rows of tiny glass bottles lined the inside, each one glowing faintly, a handwritten label tied around its neck. Above the coin slot, in faded gold letters, were the words: “Memories — $3 each.” I almost laughed. New York was full of gimmicks, but this one was charming enough to make me stop.
By Musawir Shah6 months ago in Fiction
Echoes Beyond
Lucy froze, her hand still on the keyboard. Daniel: “This is a joke, right? Someone from the team messing with remote access?” Lucy: “No one except us and Harris has access to this terminal…”
By Vafa Abbasi6 months ago in Fiction
*The Forgotten Bench*
In a small town cradled by rolling hills and thick forest, there was a wooden bench by the lake. It wasn’t grand—its green paint had peeled, one leg was uneven, and the wood bore the soft scars of time. But if you sat there long enough, you might feel something linger in the air—quiet, familiar, like the echo of a laugh carried by the wind.
By meerjanan6 months ago in Fiction
I Was Born a Slave
I Was Born a Slave I was born in the heat of a field, not in a house, not in a bed, not even in the shade. The women worked with me still inside my mother, and when I came there was no rest for her hands. She bit her lip, finished tying the bundle of cane, and only then knelt to wrap me in a strip of cloth torn from the hem of her dress. Her sweat was the first thing I smelled. Her heartbeat was the first thing I heard.
By Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Fiction