Psychological

The Lonely Grave of Tala
On the vast and ancient soil of Iraq, along a quiet stretch of desert highway between Dhi Qar and Basra, lies a small, solitary grave. There is no marble, no ornament, no towering gravestone. Just a humble mound of earth with a simple name etched upon it:
By Ikram Ullahabout a month ago in Fiction
THE VILLAGE THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST
Sometimes the strangest mysteries don’t come from legends, old books, or lost diaries. Sometimes they come from satellites quietly orbiting Earth at 17,000 miles per hour — cameras clicking, grids updating, pixels shifting.
By The Insight Ledger about a month ago in Fiction
Roots That Speak
The old village sat quietly at the foot of the northern mountains, where winters came early and left late, and where the wind always carried stories older than the stones themselves. At the entrance of the village stood a single almond tree — tall, graceful, and impossibly resilient. No one knew exactly how long it had been there. Some said a hundred years; others swore it was far older, planted by ancestors whose names had long faded from memory. Yet despite its age, the tree never seemed to weaken. Each year, no matter how harsh the winter or how long the drought, it bloomed with the freshness of youth, as though it lived in defiance of time.
By Zohaib Khanabout a month ago in Fiction
The Office That Reads Your Mind
In the heart of Tokyo’s business district, a new office opened with a promise that sounded more like science fiction than corporate ambition: “Enhance productivity by understanding your mind.” Its name was NeuroWorks, and it quickly became the talk of the city. Employees weren’t just expected to work they were expected to think differently. And, in a way that nobody fully understood, the office seemed to know exactly what they were thinking.
By Akmal95Jrabout a month ago in Fiction
Broken Safe Haven
Katelyn froze. The blood-curdling scream chilled her more than the tepid water of the lake. She floated quietly and looked around, eventually settling her gaze on the cabin she and her family were staying in. Her mom came running out the door to the lakeshore, waving her arms and shouting. There was another scream, this time farther away but just as chilling. Katelyn's heart pounded in her ears, nearly drowning out her mom's voice. The words reached her ears, but the meaning did not reach her mind. She floated and tried to calm herself enough to concentrate. She was far shore, and it took some effort to decipher the words. Finally, Katelyn was able to focus on her mom's words: "Please let me know you're ok!"
By Eric Boringabout a month ago in Fiction
The Lighthouse . Content Warning.
I inherited the lighthouse the day my father vanished. No note, no explanation—just an empty house perched on jagged cliffs where the sea screamed endlessly into the night. People in town said the place was cursed, said the last keeper went mad. I didn’t care. I wanted solitude, a place to escape the chaos of my life. I got more than I bargained for.
By E. hasanabout a month ago in Fiction
THE QUIET WOMAN ACROSS THE HALL
I first noticed her on a wet Tuesday morning, the kind of morning when the city felt permanently exhausted. She stood in the narrow hallway of our apartment building, staring at the wall as if deciphering invisible handwriting. A pale woman, tall and thin, with dark circles under her eyes that suggested she hadn’t slept in days.
By Alisher Jumayevabout a month ago in Fiction
Broken Wings
Sasha "Sash" Torres stared at her phone, heart hammering in her chest. The news flashed across the screen—Mara "M" Williams found dead in alley, overdose suspected. The words hit like a physical blow, and she felt the room tilt around her, the floor beneath her feet becoming a distant memory.
By Aarsh Malikabout a month ago in Fiction
The Lantern of Quiet Choices. AI-Generated.
In the bustling town of Auravale, where neon lights gleamed against glass towers and drones painted the sky with streaks of silver, lived a 14-year-old boy named Rian Solis. Auravale was a place that believed louder was better—louder advertisements, louder opinions, louder celebrations. Yet, amid the constant clamor, Rian preferred quiet places, quiet thoughts, and quiet choices.
By shakir hamidabout a month ago in Fiction
Borrowed Days
I never believed in miracles, not the big ones. But small ones—the quiet, almost accidental kind—I think those might be real.
By Fazal Hadiabout a month ago in Fiction
My Heart's Field
My heart's field is narrow, slipping along the undulating grass and crying over the snipped flowers of my soul. I house a garden that is ill-formed and barely tended to, with little specific purpose, other than to cope with my own momentum of time. In staccato, my breathing shakes as I jog along the bare backed road. Raw and emotional, I scrape myself along the road, black mascara streaming down my cheeks. Eyes fogged, I misjudge my steps, my broken high heels scraping mercilessly across the harsh bitumen, tripping me up.
By Susan L. Marshallabout a month ago in Fiction
Christmas Wishing
Here's a link to the Challenge: Dear Satan Santa, I have been a good boy, but I wonder if that is enough in the climate we live in. I want so many things, and I am not sure if you can get them for me. I would like to have more things for my family and myself. We deserve to be released from all of our obligations, despite the contract we signed.
By Kendall Defoe about a month ago in Fiction