Psychological
Something Wicked
Something Wicked D. A. Ratliff Something sinister happened here. Once home to nobility, the old manor hall had closed its doors to the world forty years ago and, forgotten by the surrounding community, faded into memory. Only a shadow of recognition as passersby barely registered the rusted iron gate. Then I found the diary in my dead uncle’s library, and I knew. Sinister lived there.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Light
There was only one rule: never face him alone. The Phantom was more than a villain; he was a myth, a ghostly figure that haunted the city’s deepest shadows, bringing terror to anyone unfortunate enough to catch even a glimpse of his pale, hollow face. Rumor said he was a specter, a creature not born but created in some forsaken place, a monstrous being who existed to spread fear. No one knew his origins, but everyone knew his appetite—for lives, for fear, for the thrill of watching the brave crumble into terrified shells. People spoke in hushed tones of the Phantom’s chilling laugh, how it echoed through the city’s alleys like the sound of death itself.
By Pride Bohjamabout a year ago in Fiction
Family Pictures
The Ferris wheel creaked and groaned as it spun, defying gravity. As a kid in the southwest, I had a love/hate thing with Ferris wheels. But something was alluring about seeing the world perched atop a rickety wheel held up by bars of steel and spun on demand.
By Kenneth Lawsonabout a year ago in Fiction
To Dance With You Is to Risk Being Bruised . Top Story - November 2024. Content Warning.
“Enter at your own risk I am not responsible For the misery I will bring you It's just a matter of time Before I start to destroy you Let me warn you” - Elaine - Risky
By Caitlin Charltonabout a year ago in Fiction
Exes
Bethan Today's the day where I might finally get some answers. These past weeks have been...unsettling. I feel...shaken. But also strangely optimistic. I don't know. I always hoped that I would find Laney and as days turned into weeks, months, years, I wondered if I'd ever get straight again, in my head. I'm not really sure what that means. I suppose it's about closure, about being in a place that's sure.
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Fiction
Showing me the magic
Years ago, in the vibrant city of Rio de Janeiro, there lived a young man named Pedro. Pedro worked at a prestigious marketing firm, but despite the outward success, he felt a constant undercurrent of dissatisfaction. He had been with the company for a few months, navigating a steep learning curve before settling into a routine. Yet, the nagging feeling that he was meant for something more wouldn’t leave him.
By Tales by J.J.about a year ago in Fiction
Blossoming in Our Own Time
A few years ago, I stumbled upon a book by Rich Karlgaard called Late Bloomers, The Power of Patience In A World Obsessed With Early Achievement. The title struck a chord with me, like an unexpected harmony that makes you pause and listen. I consider myself a late bloomer—a term Merriam-Webster describes as “someone who becomes successful, attractive, etc., at a later time in life than other people.” Apparently, I’m not alone; many people share this sentiment.
By Tales by J.J.about a year ago in Fiction
A Twist of Fate on a Midnight Train
It was during the summer of 2018 that Ana, a bright-eyed eighteen-year-old, returned to Brazil for her university studies. Her parents still lived in Europe, and she felt an overwhelming sense of homesickness in her first semester. Everything seemed daunting—adjusting to her new roommate, an aloof senior who barely acknowledged her presence, juggling the rigorous academic schedule, and adapting to the chaotic life in the student hostel. She found herself wondering how she would survive an entire year without seeing her parents. Adding to her woes, she had to endure the unofficially sanctioned hazing rituals of the first few weeks, which often left her in tears.
By Tales by J.J.about a year ago in Fiction
Arjun and Meera. AI-Generated.
In the bustling city of Bengaluru, where skyscrapers stood tall and the hustle never seemed to end, lived Arjun—a dedicated software engineer who was always available. His phone would buzz with emails and messages at all hours, and he prided himself on never missing a call or turning down a request. This constant availability had earned him accolades at work, but it also led to a growing sense of burnout and discontent.
By Tales by J.J.about a year ago in Fiction
The Art of Self-Love
In the heart of urban Mumbai, amidst the bustling streets and vibrant life, lived Aakash. A successful software engineer by day and a painter by night, Aakash had everything that seemed perfect from the outside. Yet, inside, he was constantly battling a sense of emptiness and an insatiable need for validation.
By Tales by J.J.about a year ago in Fiction
