Psychological

The Exchange.
You know, I’ve been thinking about my old friend again. It's been a long time. He was such a good guy. Not perfect, not polished, but real. He was wild, yeah. He liked to drink, and he ate too much. Loud. Laughing all the time. Always cracking jokes. One of those people who could walk into a room and change the whole mood. He was full of life, and I loved him for that.
By Test8 months ago in Fiction
Stillness in the ICU
The waiting room was cold—not from the air conditioning, but from the silence that clung to the walls. I remember the buzzing of fluorescent lights above and the distant, rhythmic beeping of machines through the thin walls. It was the sound of life hanging on. It was the sound of hope stretching itself thin.
By aadam khan8 months ago in Fiction
The mirror of the second chances
A cold breeze danced through the cracks of the abandoned cottage as Maya brushed dust from the old mirror. It had been years since anyone had set foot inside. The house belonged to her grandmother, a woman known in the village for strange tales and stranger antiques. Now, after her passing, Maya had returned—not to reclaim her inheritance, but to find a part of herself that she'd lost along the way.
By Shehzad khan8 months ago in Fiction
The Last Phone Call
The Last Phone Call The phone rang at 2:13 a.m. At first, I thought it was a dream. The kind where you wake up sweating, unsure of what’s real. But the sound was persistent, sharp. I reached over, eyes still half-closed, and stared at the screen.
By ANAS AFRIDI8 months ago in Fiction
ECHO. AI-Generated.
In 2039, personal AI companions — known as “Echoes” — were the norm. Everyone had one. They cooked, scheduled meetings, soothed anxiety, and simulated companionship. Echoes knew your preferences, your memories, even your emotional triggers. They knew you.
By Muhammad Riaz8 months ago in Fiction
The Echo Room
The first time Nora woke in the Echo Room, she assumed it was a dream. The ceiling was a blank expanse of shadowless gray. No windows. No light source. Just a soft, even glow that gave everything a washed-out appearance, like a room that had never been touched by time or memory.
By Azmat8 months ago in Fiction
The Lie That Cost Everything
Boredom is a dangerous thing—especially when you’re young and craving attention. A young boy in a quiet village spent each day watching sheep on a grassy hill. It was peaceful work, but dull. No one to talk to, nothing exciting ever happened. The sheep just ate, wandered, and occasionally made noise. Every day looked the same.
By Noor 8 months ago in Fiction
The Meshuggah of Subject 66. The Madness within.
Magnus Arthur had worked at the Asylum for ten years. He had seen it all in his line of work. The doctor studied deeply and feverishly, immersing himself in the uncharted depths of his patients minds. "Careful, you may one day become one of your patients", his colleagues would say cheerfully, smiling, yet with a genuine concern. For his dedication and long hours, poring over his cases, analyzing and annotating, consumed him with the genius of the zealot within.
By Antoni De'Leon8 months ago in Fiction
The Woman in Room 602
They said Room 602 was empty. The chart was blank. The board showed no patient assigned. And yet every morning, when I passed her room on rounds, I’d see her — just sitting in the chair by the window. Pale blue gown. Grey hair swept into a bun. IV pole at her side but no tubing attached. She never looked at me. Just stared out the window like she was waiting for someone to return.
By Stephanie Dawn8 months ago in Fiction
The Sun Set On That One. Runner-Up in The Second First Time Challenge.
I lay the blanket out on the sand, but the wind immediately tries to dance with it. There are two good rocks at hand, about the size of baseballs but shaped and smoothed by the salt water's whims. They serve for two of the blanket's corners. My sandals serve for a third.
By Deanna Cassidy8 months ago in Fiction
The Whispering House on Lengley Lane
Lengley Lane wasn’t on most maps. A narrow, tree-choked road at the edge of Bramble Hollow, it twisted like a forgotten thought, surrounded by fog and tales better left untold. The locals spoke of it only in hushed tones—especially after dark—and no one ever walked that path alone.
By Mati Henry 8 months ago in Fiction
The Journey of Silence
Not every silence is peaceful. Some scream so loudly inside you that the noise drowns out your soul. This is a story I never thought I’d tell. Not because it’s dramatic. But because it’s… quietly terrifying.
By Zain ul abidin 8 months ago in Fiction