Psychological
After the Last Notification
After the Last Notification In the year 2042, death was no longer silent. When someone passed away, their loved ones didn’t discover the news in sterile hospital rooms or through the murmured condolences of neighbors. Instead, it came with a soft chime — a final notification on your PersonalFeed: "One final message from [Name] has arrived. Would you like to view it now?"
By Kine Willimes7 months ago in Fiction
Her Other Life
The house was too quiet now. Quiet in the way of old tombs, where even the air forgets to move. Clara sat by the window, pale light of dawn staining her face in ashen hues. The cracked glass trembled against the wind, but the storm was inside her - raging, constant, endless.
By Aspen Noble7 months ago in Fiction
A Beautiful Mind. Content Warning.
A Beautfiul Mind I rose with the morning sun. Lately I have been unable to stay asleep, tossing and turning throughout the night, no position seems comfortable, eventually forcing myself to get up knowing I will never get the adequate sleep I long for. Today, will be another caffeine filled day to help push me through it. I throw on my robe, pull my bedridden hair into a messy bun and walk towards the kitchen. The natural sunlight peering through the window above the sink is more than enough light to allow my brain and body to adjust. The smell of dark Italian toast blend lingers through the air as I pour myself a nice cup of coffee. The newspaper on the table is from over a month ago. I pull it towards me, reading the funnies as if I hadn’t done that over a hundred times already. They never get old to me. Finishing my coffee, I place it in the sink and head over to our bedroom, the room is quiet, not wanting to wake my husband, I tiptoe to the bathroom and turn the shower on. The hot water feels good, refreshing as my brain activates and becomes alive once again. Standing there I allow the water to wash over my head, drowning out all the sounds around me. I close my eyes and let my body succumb to the sensational feeling of contempt and safety. Like a warm hug wrapping itself around me. After several minutes, I finish washing up and turn the shower off. I get dressed quietly in my closet and make my way down the hall to our daughter’s room. I pull open her drapes ever so slightly. I don’t want to startle her. Walking over to the edge of the bed I sit and rub her back, “good morning sunshine. Time to wake for the day,” I say to her. Her little eye lids peering slightly open, she lets out a big yawn and a stretch, “mommy, I just want to lay here all day. How come we can’t do that?” She asks. Tickling her little chin, “because sweetheart you have school today, and sometimes even though we want to stay in bed all day. We still need to do them, even disappointing things like go to school or mommy and daddy having to go to work trust me if I could, I would lay in bed all day too. Especially here cuddling and tickling you until your tummy aches from laughing so hard,” I said as I leaned in and tickled her whole body. Giggling she rolls out of bed, “okay, okay, I will get up,” she says, moving sloth like to her bathroom. “Brush your hair and brush your teeth! For two minutes little miss!” I sternly.
By Aubrie Sandness7 months ago in Fiction
Hot Spell
Another hot and humid day in the Deep South. What to do when you walk out your front door at 6AM and you are slammed in the face with a hot breeze even before the sunrise, but you got to do what you got to and your dog needs to do something, so you walk your dog. It's so sultry outside that all the windows in the house are condensed in water for you have the AC on consistently just to stay cool. Oh, these hot and humid days of a Southern summertime makes you wish for a good snowstorm.
By Mark Graham7 months ago in Fiction
The Upper Hand
It was really pissing me off, if I'm completely honest, how he sloped about the place with that little smirk on his face. If he'd been arrested (as he bloody well should have been) he'd have been locked up wouldn't he? At least for a while, surely. I would have had the whole flat to myself. That would have felt good. The tantalising opportunity to... oh I don't know. Go through his stuff or something.
By L.C. Schäfer7 months ago in Fiction
When the shores come calling. Content Warning.
His breathing unsteady and shaky, his stomach in knots watching the waves splashing up against the boat. Getting closer to the beach now, he can see it on the horizon. Looking around, pale wide-eyed boys, not men, but young boys dressed to the nines in their military gear clenching their rifles so hard their knuckles are white. Heartbeats quicken their pace as bullets start flying coming from all directions. He looks up and sees his captain calling out, but is unable to hear what he is saying, for a moment he leaves his fear behind and is taken to a place he goes in his mind when things get rough. Closing his eyes, and for a mere moment he is back safe in the comfort of his home. Suddenly, hands grab him by his collar, and he opens his eyes, “get your ass up and move soldier! Keep your helmet and keep your rifle, now let’s go! Move! Move! Move!” Captain yells out as the gate drops down. Before we can take one step 5 men go down, instantly killed. Others crawling over the sides of the boat getting hit before they are able to swing their bodies over the ridge, falling into the water, one by one. I manage to make it over the edge and fall hard into the water holding my rifle tightly close to me as I swim to shore. The waves dyed the color of red, staining the beaches shores that are riddled with soldiers bodies lining up and down the shoreline. Crawling over body after body, some in pieces, I manage to find a barrier to protect myself for the moment catching my breath. I glance around the adrenaline searing through me. I watch as my friends are dying all around me. Watching them fall to their deaths in slow motion before hitting the ground. Others, being blown up as legs, arms and torso’s go flying into the air. “I need to move, moving keeps you safe,” I say to myself. I wait for a minute and then begin to move further up the beach. Crawling like I was taught in boot camp to do. Moving my legs through the mushy wet sand, my body cold and soaked to the bone. Sending chills up my spine as the salt blood ocean water drips from my helmet and down my face. “Keep moving!” I say to myself again. Finally, I make it to another barrier. A young man, ducked behind the same one. Tears running down his face as his screams are drawn out from the noise of the gun fire and explosions. Taking a moment for him to realize he is no longer alone. We make eye contact, his fear strewed across his face “It’s okay!” I say to him. “We are going to be okay!” A lie, I repeat to my own self. I signal to him we need to keep moving. The young man nodding in agreement and pulls himself together. “We are going to move out at the same time. Okay? On the count of three! One, two, three! Move!” I yell out. Just when we turned to make our way from our around the barrier, a grenade goes off. Throwing the young soldier into the air. When he lands, he sees his legs have been blown, ripped from his body. He screams in agony, a blood curdling scream I have never heard, before today. I crawl over to him pulling him back behind the barrier. “Medic!” I yell out. I search for my med kit and can’t find it. “Shit!” I yelled; it must have fallen out in the water somewhere. I try and calm him down, but to no avail. He screams some more crying out for his mother, what seems to go on for a lifetime is only a few minutes and then silence; and just like that he was gone. I close his eyes and lean back against the barrier. I look at my hands, they are stained red, tears stream down my face as I look back towards the blood-soaked ocean, the noise starts to draw out and everything begins to fall silent once more. I close my eyes and when I awaken, I see myself standing in front of a mirror. Suit and tie, dressed in my dress blues, there stands a much older, more fragile and bruised, his mind broken from the traumas of war not to be confused of the young soldier that stood there once looking back at him scared and confused, but also excited for he had no idea what hell he was about to endure. My breath trembles as the images from that day, 81 years ago come rushing back, like a movie montage. My eyes fill with tears and my hands begin to shake, I can feel the same fear as I felt that day come rushing over me, as I did on that beach 81 years ago. D-Day, so many of my friends died on that beach, and so many more who I never had the honor of knowing. They sacrificed their lives for our freedoms today; 2,500 American soldiers never came home after that day. Their bodies, becoming one with the land and sea as the shores come calling them home. I take in a deep breath and wipe my tears from my eyes. I send up a small prayer for the fallen soldiers who became heroes, in hopes that their souls are finally at peace.
By Aubrie Sandness7 months ago in Fiction
ignem feram
Living inside one's own mind can be dangerous, especially when what occupies your mind are dangerous things. I've accepted long ago that I'm such a person - drawn to the darker corners of human nature and endlessly curious about how far one might dive into the abyss. I always thought I was above the millennia-old-saying that looking into such darkness would mean that darkness would peer into you.
By Amanda Starks7 months ago in Fiction
The Unfinished Lullaby
Blythorn, a village wrapped in mystery...where every house bore a special and unique mark~~~etched above the doorway, silent as ash blown to the wind. Locals claimed they were for protection, remnants of old magic. But none remembered who drew them. Or why.
By Novel Allen7 months ago in Fiction
