Psychological

In the Light of Her Eyes. Content Warning.
It began with a look—a look that pierced the dull haze of a rain-soaked Thursday afternoon in November. I was seated at the window of an urban coffee shop, my nose fogged with steam from coffee and loneliness. Routine was life now. I worked, returned to an empty apartment, listened to the ticking clock at night, and asked myself when something would shatter this locked box I referred to as a heart.
By Muhammad Abdullah8 months ago in Fiction
The Day Kindness Paid for Coffee
It Began with Rain and a Stranger The sky wept softly that morning — a silver curtain of rain falling over the quiet city.
By Shafi Ullah Darwesh8 months ago in Fiction
Thursdéjàvu
Yesterday was Thursday, April 25th. Today is Thursday, April 25th. Tomorrow will be Thursday, April 25th. I have woken up to the same April 25th so many times that I have lost count. My alarm goes off at 6:30am and I see the sun cresting through the curtains of my bedroom window. I listen to the birds’ chirp their familiar tune, “chirp chirp chirp chirp whoop whoop whoop trillllll…” then 27 seconds of calm before it repeats.
By Amos Glade8 months ago in Fiction
The Town That Ate Sound
Every year, without fail, the town of Bellwater fell silent. Not metaphorically — literally. No birds chirped. No wind rustled. No cars roared. No voices echoed. From the stroke of midnight on the first Sunday in July until exactly seven days later, sound itself vanished.
By Mati Henry 8 months ago in Fiction
The Last War We Almost Fought
The Last War We Almost Fought My grandfather used to tell me stories about war. He fought in one. Lost friends in another. And spent the rest of his life hoping we’d never see another one again.
By Shafi Ullah Darwesh8 months ago in Fiction
How To Disappear: Part One
(Trigger warning: mentions of suicide, self-harm, homophobia, and bullying behavior) ~ Three days ago, Gabriel Hernandez threw himself from the fourth floor of his school building. The time was precisely four o’clock in the afternoon. He unlatched a window in the art classroom, stepped out onto the ledge, and jumped a distance of fifty feet down, landing on the concrete below.
By angela hepworth8 months ago in Fiction
The Lantern’s Echo
1. Whisper in Emberglade Maris closed her eyes and inhaled the forest’s hush. Emberglade trembled with soft lantern light—tiny, floating orbs glowing in pink, gold, and sapphire, drifting like memories made visible. Each one carried a life’s echo—a lullaby sung, a promise whispered, a first spark of joy. She could feel them weave through her bones.
By Hikmat8 months ago in Fiction
Two of a Kind
This follows n from yesterday's story, and it might land better if you read that one first. + He's so neat. So neat. And quiet.
By L.C. Schäfer8 months ago in Fiction
The Girl Behind the Door
1. The Whispering House In the overlooked town of Elmbrook—where the wind murmured like a overlooked bedtime song and the crows roosted like prophets—stood an ancient, exhausted house. It had no title, but everybody called it The Wilt House. Children strolled quicker close it; older folks whispered supplications; and those who had once challenged to trespass carried their hush like a mystery curse.
By Muhammad Abdullah8 months ago in Fiction
Silent Screams
Silent Screams by (mukhlis) There’s a room inside me. A room no one else can see. It’s locked tight, Dark as the deepest night,
By NASRULLAH MUKHLIS8 months ago in Fiction
The Last Phone Call
The Last Phone Call Some calls aren't meant to be answered. By Darwesh The phone rang at 1:47 a.m.
By Shafi Ullah Darwesh8 months ago in Fiction
The Sister Who Never Knocked
They always told me I was an only child. The photos on the wall said the same—just me. Birthday cakes with my name. Solo portraits in the hallway. The silence of a house that echoed only one set of footsteps. I never thought to question it—not until the dreams began.
By Shafi ulhaq8 months ago in Fiction