Psychological

The Weight of Forgotten Things
The house on Sycamore Lane wasn’t the kind of place you’d notice unless you were looking for it. Tucked behind a curtain of overgrown willow trees, its peeling paint and sagging porch made it seem like it was trying to disappear. Clara hadn’t meant to find it. She’d been wandering, as she often did when the world felt too heavy, her boots crunching through the autumn leaves that blanketed the outskirts of her small town. But something about the house—its silence, maybe, or the way the windows seemed to watch her—drew her closer.
By Fahad Content8 months ago in Fiction
The Next Chapter
Clara hadn’t touched the book in months. It sat on her shelf, its plain gray cover blending into the shadows of her apartment, now just a silent relic of that strange autumn. The locket, though, she wore every day, its crescent moon engraving catching the light as a quiet reminder of the impossible. Life had moved forward—Clara had started writing again, short stories at first, then a novel, her words spilling out with a courage she hadn’t known she possessed. The bookstore’s disappearance still haunted her, but she’d convinced herself it was a chapter closed.
By Shohel Rana8 months ago in Fiction
The Last Page
The old bookstore on Maple Street was a relic, its faded sign barely legible under years of dust and weather. Clara, a 32-year-old librarian with a penchant for dog-eared paperbacks, had been coming here since she was a kid. The smell of aged paper and leather bindings was her sanctuary, a place where time seemed to pause. But today, something felt different.
By Shohel Rana8 months ago in Fiction
Exit is just a suggestion . Content Warning.
Trigger Warnings: Psychological distress, claustrophobia, existential dread. --- I remember the door was the first thing I noticed—its polished metal surface cold under my fingertips, its frame too narrow to be a real exit, and the faint hum of machinery beyond it. It was locked, but not in the way doors usually are. This was a door that whispered, You can leave… but why would you?
By E. hasan8 months ago in Fiction
The One Who Lives in Dreams
The first time I saw him, I was five years old. It was one of those winter nights when the world outside my window had turned into a silent painting, all white and silver, glowing beneath the moonlight. I remember the shadows of bare trees dancing across my ceiling, and the way the frost etched delicate stars on the glass. I couldn't sleep, so I lay staring up at the sky through my window when I saw him.
By Muhammad Wisal8 months ago in Fiction
My House Was Built on a Repeating Loop
I. The Move I bought the house in spring. Small, cheap, oddly modern for its location — tucked between forest and fog on the outskirts of Murree. No neighbors. No traffic. Just silence and space to breathe.
By Muhammad Kaleemullah8 months ago in Fiction
Vows Between Heartbeats
The storm arrived just past midnight. Rain tapped against the windows like impatient fingers. Thunder rolled through the sky, loud enough to rattle picture frames. But inside the small house on Maple Street, it was warm, soft-lit, and silent—except for the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor beside the bed.
By Muhammad Wisal8 months ago in Fiction
CASE FILE 002-A – SALT HOLLOW, PART 1: THE WATER REMEMBERS
There’s a silence that settles over a forgotten town; thick, permanent, soaked into the wood and stone like mildew. Salt Hollow doesn’t echo. It absorbs.
By Veil of Shadows8 months ago in Fiction
10 Years of Marriage Equality
A Decade of Love and Progress Where were you on June 26, 2015? For me, it was a normal day at work. But that day changed history—it was the day same-sex marriage became legal across all 50 states in the U.S. We celebrated love, equality, and a hard-won victory for the LGBTQ+ community, activists, and everyone who believes in justice.
By Shafi Ullah Darwesh8 months ago in Fiction
The Last Feather of Vithariel
The Last Feather of Vithariel They said the gods once sang from the mountain peaks, and the birds carried their songs across the wind.
By Shafi Ullah Darwesh8 months ago in Fiction
Memory Auction
In 2047, memory was no longer sacred. It was currency. They called it "Mind Vault"—a sprawling marketplace of experiences. From the taste of mangoes in Havana to the terror of skydiving over the Andes, everything could be uploaded, polished, and sold to the highest bidder. Joy, pain, regret—packaged and distributed like souvenirs.
By Salah Uddin8 months ago in Fiction
Top 10 Historical Facts That Sound Fake but Are 100% True. AI-Generated.
Introduction History isn't always serious. Sometimes it's hilarious, unbelievable, and just plain weird. From bunny attacks to dancing plagues, the past is filled with real events that sound completely fake. But every fact in this list is true — and backed by records.
By Unfacted8 months ago in Fiction