Psychological
Searcher. Top Story - November 2024. Content Warning.
One hundred miles according to my GPS. Fitting. She's been gone a hundred days. I have proof here on my arms. One cut per day. A hundred inch long scars. Each a promise. It's almost midnight. 11:58 p.m. Time for one hundred and one.
By Andrew C McDonaldabout a year ago in Fiction
See the world through touch
Alex had always been a man of vision. As a young boy, he'd spent countless hours lost in the world of art, his fingers tracing the lines of masterpieces and his imagination soaring beyond the canvas. But fate, with a cruel twist, had a different plan. A sudden accident left him with a scarred eye, a constant reminder of the fragility of perfection.
By Tales by J.J.about a year ago in Fiction
Sunset Cove
The salty air of Sunset Cove whispered tales of bygone days, a stark contrast to the silence echoing in my newly retired life. My name is Rohan, and the structured world of marketing meetings had been my reality for decades. Now, adrift in a sea of unstructured time, I found myself drawn to the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore.
By Tales by J.J.about a year ago in Fiction
Will the costume every be taken off?
"The river ran backward on the day the queen vanished" I loved her for who she is but the masked was more real then her actual appearance, The more mask was cute and adorable until you see the real face of whats being covered up.Is the smile you have for me real or this just same smile you give every victim of your pieces to your board game? have you kissed me for real? or was it just your seductive tactics to lore me to you because you the touch of your lips I will never forget. It like your smiles and kisses are with a mask .This why is hard to tell if your words are ture because of them touch of them never felt real, so if your touch is not real how can I trust your actions. "Is she a real queen is or do she just wear the crown for show"?
By Walter D.Witherspoonabout a year ago in Fiction
Weeps my human psyche (Pt 1)
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. She spoke to me, The River, of her sojourn, her inner Charybdis into the vortex of torment. Long did I listen to her lamented mourn as she walked the banks of me. My soothing waters tried to lustrate and purify her spirit, but alas, could not. The night creatures had taken a hold of her tortured and frail quintessence, dragging it deep into a vanishing chasm. May there be hope, I prayed, of her expurgation and purification.
By Antoni De'Leonabout a year ago in Fiction
A Wake-Up Call in Purple
The sun stood at a sharp angle, glaring into his car. It was morning, and Dennis was on his way to work. It was the same every morning, and he could just manage to stop by the Café on the Square for a cup of coffee and a croissant. His usual breakfast. It was easy and convenient for someone alone.
By Henrik Hagelandabout a year ago in Fiction
New information has come to light...
Bethan I've had a text from Dave! Weird. He wants to meet. I'm "working" from home because, well, I couldn't think before meeting with Luke tonight, knew I'd get nothing done. I'm going through what he might tell me in my head and my focus is skewed. Nothing else seems relevant.
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Fiction
