Psychological
THE VEIL OF HALLOWEEN
The Shadows of HalloweenOctober 31st, and the small town of Willow Creek transformed into a realm of magic and terror. The air was alive with the whispers of ghosts, the creaking of trees, and the distant laughter of children.I walked through the crisp autumn air, surrounded by glowing jack-o'-lanterns and eerie shadows. The moon cast an ominous glow over the town, as if warning of impending doom.As I strolled down Main Street, a chill ran down my spine. The old Victorian houses seemed to loom over me, their windows like empty eyes staring back.Suddenly, I saw her – a ghostly figure in a tattered white dress, floating toward me. Her face was deathly pale, with sunken eyes that seemed to bore into my soul."Trick or treat," she whispered, her voice like the rustling of dry leaves.I tried to run, but my feet felt heavy, as if rooted to the spot.The ghostly figure drew closer, her eyes black as coal."Choose a door," she whispered, pointing to three ancient doors behind her.The doors stood before me, each one representing a different path.Door number one was old and rusty, with cobwebs clinging to its surface.Door number two shone with a golden glow, inviting me to enter.Door number three appeared modern, with a sleek design that seemed out of place.I chose the central door, the golden one.As it creaked open, a warm light spilled out.Inside, a room filled with cobwebs and decay.A voice whispered, "Face your fears."Suddenly, I faced my deepest fears: loss, rejection, and darkness.The room seemed to darken, the shadows closing in.But then, a light flickered.The room transformed into a warm, cozy space filled with loved ones.My heart swelled with joy.I realized that fear was just an illusion.And then, I woke up.It was Halloween morning.I realized it was just a dream.But the memory lingered.Was it just a dream, or a message from beyond?The line between reality and dreams blurred.And I wondered, what lies beyond the shadows of Halloween?Throughout the day, the dream haunted me.As I walked through the town, I noticed strange occurrences.People wore masks, but their eyes seemed to hold secrets.The jack-o'-lanterns grinned mischievously.And the wind whispered eerie tales.As night fell, I returned to my room.The dream still lingered.I decided to explore the town, seeking answers.Main Street was deserted, except for a lone figure.The ghostly woman in white."Welcome," she said. "Tonight, the veil between worlds is thin."She led me to an ancient door."The door you chose," she whispered, "was the door to self-discovery."As I opened the door, a bright light enveloped me.And I saw the truth.Halloween wasn't just a night of terror.It was a night of transformation.A night to confront fears.A night to discover oneself.And as the light faded, I found myself back in bed.The dream had ended.But its message lingered.I realized that Halloween was more than just a holiday.It was a journey into the shadows.A journey of self-discovery.And I knew that I would never see Halloween the same way again.
By Samuel Asamoahabout a year ago in Fiction
Life Punishes Us—Can Death Save Us?
Jorge Millard staggered back to his room, fighting the agonizing memories from taking control of his body, mind, and, soul, again. His mother, father, and brother are dead. He was the only one left alive. Yes, his father left enough money for him to take care of his mother and brother. He did the best he could, he reminded his conscience.
By Annelise Lords about a year ago in Fiction
BEYOND GOODBYE
I still remember the day my world shattered into a million pieces. The day I lost my beloved friend, Harrietta. We had been inseparable since junior high school, sharing every laughter, every tear, and every secret. Her twin sister, Harriet, and I had formed an unbreakable bond, a trio of friendship that seemed invincible.But life had other plans.When we went to different high schools, the distance felt like an eternity. We promised to stay in touch, but the silence grew thicker with each passing day.That fateful day, I found myself drowning in despair, locked away in my school dormitory. I reached out to my mom, seeking solace in her comforting voice."Alice, I know it's not easy, but take it cool, we are sorry," she said, her words laced with empathy."Who told you I'm not okay?" I asked, confusion etched on my face."I knew it," she replied gently. "Because I know how you loved Harrietta, and she's passed away without saying goodbye."Time froze. The words hung in the air like a guillotine, waiting to drop."No! No! No!" I screamed, collapsing onto the cold floor.My mind refused to accept the reality. Harrietta, with her bright smile and infectious laughter, couldn't be gone.In a haze of grief, I called my mom back, pleading with her to stop the inevitable."Don't take Harrietta to the mortuary! She can't be gone!"But it was too late.The next three days blurred into a coma-induced haze. When I awoke in the hospital, the pain hit me like a tidal wave.Harrietta's presence still lingered, haunting my dreams. We shared meals, laughed, and reminisced about old times. But every morning, I woke up to the cruel reality – she was gone.Those dreams became my sanctuary, my escape from the agony.In one dream, we sat together, the three of us, sharing stories and secrets like old times. Harrietta's eyes sparkled, and her smile radiated warmth.But when I woke up, the silence screamed her absence.Losing Harrietta felt like losing a part of myself. The memories we forged, the inside jokes, the late-night conversations – all echoes of a friendship that would never be again.Tears streamed down my face as I gazed at our old photos.Why did you have to leave so soon, Harrietta?The question echoed through my mind like a mantra.As I navigated the labyrinth of grief, I realized that Harrietta's legacy lived on.In my heart, our friendship remained unbroken.And in those dreams, she'd always be there, smiling, laughing, and reminding me that even in death, love never dies.Days passed, and I visited Harrietta's graveside often. Her elderly sister, Harriet, would join me, sharing stories and tears.One evening, Harriet grasped my hand tightly."Alice, promise me you won't let this go," Harriet whispered, her voice trembling. "If someone...if someone had a hand in her passing, you must find out."I nodded, though my mind reeled in shock."We'll get through this together," I assured Harriet, my voice cracking.But Harriet's words ignited a spark within me. Could it be true? Could Harrietta's death be more than just fate?Determined to uncover the truth, I began asking questions.The investigation led me down a dark path, filled with twists and turns. Each revelation sliced through my soul like a dagger.One evening, as I pored over old records and interviews, Harriet sat beside me."Alice, I remember the day Harrietta confided in me," Harriet said, her voice barely above a whisper. "She feared someone was watching her."My heart skipped a beat."Who?" I pressed.Harriet's eyes clouded."She didn't say. But Alice, I know my sister. She wasn't one to imagine things."The room seemed to shrink, suffocating me.I knew then that I had to dig deeper.The search for answers consumed me, driving me to the edge of sanity.But with each step closer to the truth, I felt Harrietta's presence around me.Guiding me.Protecting me.And in the end, it was Harrietta's own words that unraveled the mystery:"Alice, I'll always be with you."Those words became my mantra, fueling my quest for justice.For Harrietta.For our friendship.For the truth.
By Samuel Asamoahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Green Fields Rot. Top Story - November 2024.
It started with the bees, falling like rain as their tiny bodies spasmed, and a few loud voices, but it ended in silence. Isn't that always the way? The tiny things that go unseen mounting like water behind a dam until one crack lets hell loose upon those who weren't looking hard enough. It started with the bees, yes, but the path between the bees and the silence was so long that no-one could really draw a map of where it all went wrong.
By S. A. Crawfordabout a year ago in Fiction
LITTLE CHAMPION
Three-year-old Jack sat at the starting line, his eyes fixed intently on the finish line. His father, a seasoned runner, had brought him to the track to teach him the basics. Jack's chubby little legs wobbled with excitement as he prepared to take off."Ready, set, go!" his father shouted.Jack sprinted forward, his tiny feet pounding the track. The wind rushed through his curly brown hair as he giggled with glee.Suddenly, Jack's attention shifted from the finish line to a butterfly fluttering nearby. He veered off course, chasing after the colorful insect."Jack, focus!" his father called out, laughing.But Jack was too captivated by the butterfly's dance. He followed it around the track, completely forgetting about the finish line.As they finished their "race," Jack's father scooped him up in a warm hug."You may not have crossed the finish line first, kiddo," he said, "but you won something even more important.""What's that?" Jack asked, curiosity sparkling in his eyes."You discovered the joy of exploring," his father replied. "Sometimes, it's not about reaching the finish line but about what you discover along the way."Jack's face lit up with understanding.Over the next few weeks, Jack returned to the track with his father. Each time, he'd start strong, only to be distracted by something new – a bird soaring overhead, a leaf rustling in the breeze, or a fellow runner's smile.His father never pushed him to focus solely on the finish line. Instead, they explored the track together, discovering hidden wonders.One day, as they strolled around the track, Jack's father pointed to a small, weathered plaque."See that, Jack?" he asked. "It's a quote from a famous runner: 'The real contest is always between what you are and what you could become.'"Jack's eyes widened as he read the words."What does it mean?" he asked."It means that the finish line is just the beginning," his father explained. "The real challenge is becoming the best version of yourself."Jack nodded thoughtfully.As the months passed, Jack's love for running grew. He still chased butterflies and explored the track, but he also began to understand the value of perseverance and self-improvement.One afternoon, as they prepared to leave the track, Jack turned to his father with a determined look."Daddy, I want to run across the finish line," he said.His father smiled."Let's do it, kiddo."This time, Jack focused on the finish line. His little legs pumped furiously as he sprinted toward the end.As he crossed the line, Jack beamed with pride."I did it!" he shouted.His father swept him up in a hug."You sure did, Jack," he said. "But remember, the real victory is beyond the finish line. It's in the journey, the growth, and the joy you find along the way."Jack grinned, already knowing that.From that day forward, Jack continued to run, always keeping in mind the lessons he learned beyond the finish line.Years later, as Jack stood at the starting line of his first marathon, he recalled his father's words.The real contest is always between what you are and what you could become.With a deep breath, Jack took off, ready to face the challenges ahead, knowing that the finish line was just the beginning.The crowd cheered as Jack crossed the finish line, his arms raised in triumph. Tears of pride streamed down his face as he hugged his father, now gray-haired but still beaming with pride."I did it, Dad," Jack said, his voice choked with emotion.His father smiled."You've always been a champion, Jack," he said. "Not just because you crossed the finish line, but because of the person you've become."As they walked away from the finish line, Jack realized that his journey had only just begun. The real victory lay beyond the finish line, in the lessons he'd continue to learn, the growth he'd experience, and the joy he'd find along the way.
By Samuel Asamoahabout a year ago in Fiction
"Why Do We Keep Saying 'Later'?"
Have you ever caught yourself saying you’ll do something “later”? We often find ourselves in this cycle of procrastination—whether it's starting a workout routine, reconnecting with an old friend, or diving into that side project we’re so passionate about. “Later” seems like a safe haven, a promise to ourselves that we’ll get to it when the time is right.
By Subhasri Devarajabout a year ago in Fiction
Meeting
Bethan I've had a text. It's from Luke! He wants to meet! Well, that's unexpected! You know, I'm relieved. I think that if he hadn't've texted me, I'd have been thinking Why doesn't he want to meet me? It would have made me suspicious? Wary? I don't know. Uneasy? At least, he wants to meet somewhere public so that feels like safe ground.
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Fiction
The Queen’s Final Act
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. This strange phenomenon quickly captivated social media, igniting a frenzy of theories and speculation. Was it a sign from the heavens? Had supernatural forces kidnapped the Queen? Or was this nature’s way of expressing the upheaval caused by her sudden absence? The online world was teeming with theories, and numerous hashtags were trending within minutes, each more fantastical than the last.
By Anthony Chanabout a year ago in Fiction
An Invitation. Top Story - November 2024.
Luke I haven't slept. I'm going over and over and over in my mind what happened yesterday. I don't know what to do. Funny. I've lived with the knowledge of what happened to Laney all these years and it's been awful. I've not handled it well. I'm still a young man but you can tell something's ravaged me. It's in the bags under my eyes and the worry of my lines. I see it every day in the mirror, the cost of keeping this secret.
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Fiction
The Curse of Ravenwood Manor
The Curse of Ravenwood Manor Every Halloween, the small, mist-covered town of Ravenwood fell under a chilling spell. Known for its spooky atmosphere and ancient legends, Ravenwood attracted both thrill-seekers and ghost hunters from far and wide. But amidst all the haunted tales, one story remained the most terrifying—the Curse of Ravenwood Manor.
By Nada solimanabout a year ago in Fiction
