Psychological
The House With the Red Gate
It is a saying that an old woman lives in the house with the red gate on the edge of Buraq Street. No one remembers when she arrived, or if she ever did. The house smells of cinnamon and old pages, and the wind chimes only sound when no one’s looking.
By Muhammad Abdullah7 months ago in Fiction
The Second First Time
They met again beneath the wisteria-covered trellis at the old train station—where years ago, teenage hearts had whispered promises too fragile to hold. The air still smelled of jasmine and engine smoke, but this time, time itself moved differently—like it held its breath for them.
By Muhammad Abdullah7 months ago in Fiction
The 30-Day Love Challenge That Changed My Life
I didn’t expect a simple challenge to change everything. In fact, I didn’t expect anything at all. My heart had been quiet for months—maybe years—after too many disappointments, too many false starts, and too many days of wondering if love was something only other people got to feel fully. I was surviving. I was functioning. I was smiling when necessary. But deep inside, something was missing.
By Adrian-Razvan Ispas7 months ago in Fiction
The First Time I Told the Truth The Second First Time
The thing about truth is that it doesn’t always come all at once. Sometimes, it slips out like a hesitant whisper. Sometimes, it crashes like a tidal wave that no one sees coming. And sometimes, it’s a quiet revolution that changes everything.
By MIne Story Nest7 months ago in Fiction
The Time Borrower
They say he appears when you're most desperate—when time feels like it's slipping through your fingers, and you’d give anything to slow it down. He doesn’t advertise. No glowing neon signs. No whisper through the trees. One moment you’re alone, and the next… he’s just there.
By MIne Story Nest7 months ago in Fiction
The House that We Build
He comes home from work. He walks through the door, happy but exhausted. Thinking of what’s for dinner, the video game he is going to play. But he is tired. The dogs greet him, the cats meow. Me, his wife before him, tense my shoulders and I told him how he didn’t empty the dishwasher this morning. That delayed me making dinner because the saucepan and all the other cookware were still in there.
By 🍂🍂🍂.7 months ago in Fiction
If I Died Tomorrow: The Regrets I’d Carry to the Grave"
If I died tomorrow, they’d find my phone full of unsent messages. Apologies half-typed. “I miss you” left hanging. A confession I was too scared to send. They’d scroll and scroll and never reach the end of what I meant to say, but didn’t.
By Hasbanullah7 months ago in Fiction
Hot Dirigible
Tallulah felt the thick braids of the whicker basket through the soles of her running shoes. She imagined it matched the thick braids in her long blond hair. She was not sure about getting into a hot air balloon when she first arrived at the field near the Fort Crittenden Dam Park. She almost chickened out, but once they were up in the air she found the view utterly breathtaking. She could see the entire valley from their height.
By Amos Glade7 months ago in Fiction
The Door of Shared Sorrow
Eleven thirty-four at night. The sky, a vast canvas of bruised purple and black, was weeping. It was as if the firmament itself had ruptured, pouring out all its ancient sorrow in a deluge. This wasn’t just rain; it was tears, blood, and clotted grief gushing from the slit veins of eternity. A jet-black Toyota Premio, a silent predator, tore through the wet, gleaming heart of the highway. Inside, the world was a blur of distorted light and shadow. In the piercing glare of the headlights, the raindrops ignited like diamonds for a fleeting, brilliant moment before being consumed by the darkness behind, like the last glint of a thousand shattered stars scattered on the path of a final, inexorable journey.
By Selina Khatun 7 months ago in Fiction
