Psychological

The end days
Dear Diary: 22 Feb 3039 Today again I woke up with a heavy feeling in my heart. As if someone was trying to squeeze it from inside and it was swelling in response. I was too tired to get up so I went back to sleep. The sun had just started to show its rays from above the mountains. But two hours later, it was too bright and too noisy to stay asleep, so I had to get up and wish everyone a pleasant morning.
By Mansi10 months ago in Fiction
The Whispering Flesh. Content Warning.
It began with the faintest sound, like a scraping on stone. It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible to the human ear. But soon, the sound grew—a dull, rhythmic scraping that echoed through the barren town. The walls of the buildings trembled with the vibrations, and the very air seemed to hum with tension.
By E. hasan10 months ago in Fiction
The Promise Under the Baobab Tree
When Amina first met Kofi under the shade of the ancient baobab tree, she didn’t know that the world would change forever. The tree, revered by villagers as a symbol of strength and enduring love, seemed to hum with unspoken promises.
By Ikechi Franklyn10 months ago in Fiction
A widow's grief and agony and a companion . Content Warning.
Everyone in Briar Hollow knew about the abandoned Coldwell House. It sat hunched at the end of Gallow’s Lane, draped in shadows even at noon, its windows like hollowed eyes.
By E. hasan10 months ago in Fiction
Patch 6.66 — Bloodborne Edition. Content Warning.
Ricky was bored. A runaway teenager. . Another Friday night. Another download from the dark corners of the web. The game? "Hollow Sleep." Interesting.
By E. hasan10 months ago in Fiction
The Shut-in (part 1 of 2). Content Warning.
Quick note: I wrote this in December I think as a way of dealing with some mental health stuff. About halfway through I realised I could use the prompt for the challenge about not opening the door - ha! As it was always about a shut-in so seemed fitting. After writing over 1000 words I realised the prompt was for a micro fiction. Alas, I retained the use of the prompt throughout!
By Grz Colm10 months ago in Fiction
A Walk to Remember
🌟 Meet Landon Carter and Jamie Sullivan The story takes place in the small town of Beaufort, North Carolina, in the late 1950s.
By Muhammad Hayat10 months ago in Fiction
The Kiss Quotient
🌟 Meet Stella Lane Stella Lane is not your typical romance heroine. She’s a brilliant, successful woman who works as an econometrician (someone who uses math and statistics to predict shopping patterns). She loves her job and is very good at it.
By Muhammad Hayat10 months ago in Fiction
Inside Out
Yo, your body’s a marvel, no need to pretend, It’s science in motion from start to the end. Behind every blink, every breath that you take, Physiology’s working—make no mistake!
By Sudarsan10 months ago in Fiction
The Birth of Folklore
When we ask how folklore is formed, it can be formed among groups of people who speak the same language in a small group or in a society. Thus, it seems that folklore has a certain collective birth. What people think and desire as a group is represented by folklore. That is, it shows a representation of the collective thinking of man. A person living in society follows a certain behavior because it is true according to the common thinking of the society. Something that someone presents in a way that suits the collective thinking is accepted by everyone. The stories, poems, dances, etc. that we experience today have survived to this day because they were born collectively at some point.
By Rohitha Lanka10 months ago in Fiction
2:47
Cerise couldn’t sleep. The clock on her nightstand screamed 2:47 at her. A.M. She had tried not to look in its direction because knowing exactly how much sleep she’d already missed would be disturbing. Calculating how much more she’d miss if sleep didn’t arrive soon made her anxious. And anxiety always robbed her of sleep.
By Marie McGrath10 months ago in Fiction
María
Through the window of her house, a warm light entered, caressing her cheek. With the melody of dawn as a soundtrack, the young girl timidly opened her eyelids, as if fearful of leaving the realm of dreams. Bathed in light, her green eyes glistened, moist after a long night of vivid imagination.
By Writing For Me10 months ago in Fiction