Psychological
Blood Drop Sun
Atop the Ebright Azimuth, the highest point in Delaware, the same place where the lightning bugs hung in the air, Crane Curren and his girlfriend Melanie Biscoff sat with certainty. He wore a Kente cloth t-shirt, black jeans and sneakers. Melanie donned an orange summer dress that looked like marmalade and blue flats. As the sun set, they just knew that something felt unsettling in their bones. They could look down the road and see what it was.
By Skyler Saunders7 months ago in Fiction
Title: Echoes of Tomorrow
this story create by khalid khan In the city of Vireon, choices weren’t made by people anymore. At the age of 16, every citizen received a LifePath Code—generated by the Central Algorithm—that told them everything: their job, their spouse, where they'd live, how many children they would have, and even when they would die.
By khalid khan7 months ago in Fiction
The Silence in Her Photograph
Every morning, I wake up before the sun — not because I love mornings, but because I can’t sleep past the silence. My room is still. Too still. And yet, she’s everywhere. On the walls, in the empty chair near the window, in the untouched cup beside mine. But most of all, she’s in the photograph on the table.
By Fazal Wahid7 months ago in Fiction
Found a Stranger’s Diary in a Burned House — And I Think It Was Me
The house was long dead. Windows shattered. Roof collapsed. The walls still smelled faintly of ash. I wasn’t looking for anything—just silence. Just distance from the noise in my head.But something pulled me in.In the living room, buried beneath charred wood and broken glass, I found it—a small leather diary, scorched at the corners but mostly untouched inside. I flipped it open.
By MUHAMMAD ALI7 months ago in Fiction
We All Drank Tea While The Cannibals Came
So everyone was drinking tea. That’s how it started. The lights were warm, the kitchen smelled like cinnamon and mother’s milk, and the apartment (floor seventeen of a twenty-five-story building in the only neighborhood in Seattle where the rats had unionized) felt perfectly safe. There was a baby. There was a father. There was a mother. There were still walls and power and hot water. And then the TV screamed.
By Paper Lantern7 months ago in Fiction
The Wire Spider
He was an arachnophobe and an artist, so the wire spider was a difficult commission to complete, but he did it, and now it dominated his studio. He tried not to look at it, but it was just a metal creation, but it was a spider. He started to feel it was watching him, waiting to bite him and pierce his skin with its metal leg spikes.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 7 months ago in Fiction
