Psychological
I have a story to tell, but I might not make it out of here alive.
I have a story to tell, but I might not make it out of here alive. Everything feels very cramped. I don’t really feel like I have a ton of rights at the moment. Some days, I just listen and listen and listen… I hear the humdrum of voices and other sounds on the other sides of these walls. The conversations that people have around me don’t really make a lot of sense in my mind. They are just words, I guess. Some voices are kind of familiar. Every now and then, there are new voices that I don’t recognize.
By Rowan Finley about a year ago in Fiction
Highway 91. Top Story - September 2024.
The newly paved Vermont asphalt rose and fell like the summer waves he used to watch as a boy growing up on the sea shell riddled shores of Cape Cod. Leaves, ablaze with New England’s one-of-a-kind rich autumn hues, descended from their cold branches and decorated their ascent up the mountain side. They twirled and danced across the quiet back road, morphing into faint red and orange tornadoes as Timothy’s Jeep shifted gears.
By Kale Sinclairabout a year ago in Fiction
Deep Woods Harvest. Content Warning.
Ill omen bred these dark phantasmagoric creatures from the unceasingly evil and insidious depths of which they emerge their hideously foul translucent forms. I write, of course, of those wretches that linger in the surrounding woodlands. They tried to constrain me within the confines of this town , but for what? I hope I never discover it.
By Ratha Kroeungabout a year ago in Fiction
The Girl Who Killed Me
Back Story: Speculation ran wild at every shop and street in town on exactly how the latest girl had run away…if she had. As these things go, no one could recall her name. There were so many of them missing, who could keep track? Of course, this was just regular old run-of-the-mill gossip, and besides, there was no proof of what took place. So naturally, the juicier and more depraved the rumor became, the better. Some even speculated that maybe a serial killer had finally got to her. Just like the rest of the girls.
By K.H. Obergfollabout a year ago in Fiction
The Haven
"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen." As the words echoed around our living room, followed by a brief statement from a government representative and the national anthem, the signal became static, and we were left in silence. "Remain calm." The air had a soft bite of freshness to it. A strong scent of newly blooming spring flowers carried with that freshness through the opened windows. "Stay vigilant." I had long warned that something big was on the horizon. I had felt the inevitability in the air over the last couple of years, which led me to act. I didn't know what form it would take, just that something would happen. Something seismic. Hilary, my wife, often questioned my concerns and thought I could be putting too much stock in conspiracy theories and crackpot commentators.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Fiction
Burning for You
Even the very thought of this man had me in a smiling frenzy. The way his gorgeous emerald-green eyes crinkled as he would smile. Those luscious golden-brown curls that would always somehow manage to take shape, even in the windiest of days. He was my person, and I love to think that I was his as well. Although... It wasn't always like this. The day I first met Helm, I swore to God that I'd hate him forever. He drove me absolutely bananas just by doing something as simple as breathing too much. To this day, I still haven't a single clue as to why he'd drive me up the walls. Just that I couldn't even as much as glance as the man without feeling furious with him for whatever reason. He'd do as little as yawn while looking in my direction, and I'd have steam blowing out of my ears. Nowadays, he and I tend to laugh about it... cracking up jokes as we both would mock how much his tiny antics drove me crazy. Now, he'll tell me constantly how he used to do whatever he could to get my attention... an attempt that typically ended in failure due to my complete and utter annoyance with anything he'd do. Even today, he still tells me that he's just going to use those little stories to help motivate our child to never give up on what he wants in life.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreetabout a year ago in Fiction
Hidden in Plain Sight
There I stood. At the edge of the dock. The loud thrashing of the waves moving around below my feet. The water moving at a rapid pace; flowing over and around the fallen body. His body. The tattered clothing of his swaying against the current as they barely held against his skin; as if to be holding on for dear life, afraid to become lost amidst the darkness of the ocean forever. My thoughts moving rapidly throughout my mind.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreetabout a year ago in Fiction
