Psychological

Chocolat Chaud. Runner-up in Unreliable Challenge.
put the gun down except he didn't say it like that it was more like put... the gun... down. the words were like that hot chocolate mum bought me in France when i was little. comforting and commanding all at once. very grown up
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
Smooth Operator
"Oh, my dear, I've never met anyone like you before. No one I've ever been with compares to you. It took me two hundred tries, but finally, I have found 'the one,' and she is you," I whisper into her hair, scanning the room behind her, looking for something better.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Fiction
You Are Convenient
"Oh, my dear, I've never met anyone like you before in my life. No one I've ever been with compares to you. It took me two hundred tries, but finally, I have found 'the one,' and she is you," Joe whispers into her hair, as he scans the room behind her, looking for something better.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Fiction
The White Room. Content Warning.
My head bounces against the wall, bored out of my mind. I've decided I hate the color white; it's too pristine, too easy to grunge up. It's a reminder of everything I'm not.
By Alexandria Stanwyckabout a year ago in Fiction
The Unknown Phone Call
At first glance, the evening appeared to be typical. While the clock inched closer to midnight, Emily was engrossed in a mystery book on her couch. Her tiny apartment was silent except for the gentle tapping of rain on the windows, which produced a calming rhythm. She was happy and at ease—that is, until her phone rang.
By MD. RAFIQUL ISLAM MURAD about a year ago in Fiction
Good Neighbor
I lifted my mug of tea to my lips and let the steam fill my nostrils. I stared out the living room window. The next door neighbors’ flowers had been in brilliant bloom last Saturday morning, but now they were drooping and turning brown. The yellow tape with big black letters ballooned out from the stakes as a spring breeze tugged at it. And within the borders of the tape a large darkening stain marred the neighbors’ driveway.
By D.K. Shepardabout a year ago in Fiction
The Past Comes Forward
Luke It's been years since I've seen Matt. Things were never the same after that day. How could it be? Ah, we still hung around together, connected by a shared secret and sorrow but the strings connecting us were never as tight. We were sworn but we were scared, suspicious of the hold we each had over the other. Who would break first? It was like a high stakes poker game, all the time. Believe me, there were times I wanted to tell, when the nightmares struck and my mum asked "What is it, Luke?" but whenever I was tempted, I remembered the bruises on Mark's arm.
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Fiction
Represented
It was also somewhere whilst watching the movie Moonlight that I had an epiphany regarding the issue of queer representation. The film in question is about a heterosexual black male gangster who comes to terms with his sexuality in spite of the pall that the society casts. The violence of the film was incredibly personal especially when recounting the age-old dilemma performance of the LGBTQIA+ community all the more in more hostile environments.
By Muhammad Ahmedabout a year ago in Fiction
Sunshine
The room stank of illness. Even with the window open to a cool autumn night, the scent of it lingered, almost as though it had soaked into every piece of furniture.
By Alexander McEvoyabout a year ago in Fiction
Manifesting Shakespeare Through Monkeys
Calling his penmanship poor was an insult to both pens and ships. That fact usually had no bearing on his well being.
By Matthew J. Frommabout a year ago in Fiction
Murder she wrought THREE
"Ah, Ernest my dear chap, how have you been? You are looking a little... drawn." "Well, I don't mind telling you, George, I have been a bit weary these past few days."
By Raymond G. Taylorabout a year ago in Fiction
The Cry of the Desperate Window
A misty, cold night found Maya sitting by herself in her little, rickety apartment. Outside, the wind howled, rattling the old windows like it was trying to get in. The unrelenting wind, the eerie mood, the unnerving feeling that something was horribly wrong had all been present for days.
By MD. RAFIQUL ISLAM MURAD about a year ago in Fiction