Psychological
It Looms. Content Warning.
It was always there. Without fail. It never seemed to leave. I had trouble going to sleep at night. Whether it be stress from my mundane life, or just because I wanted to stay on my device for longer than normal, it took time, still does sometimes. When the sleep does come, I am greeted to the most wonderful dreams imaginable, and the most devastating nightmares possible . I glide through the open skies, without a care in the world, I am sometimes greeted with familiar faces from my past, the landscape can be whimsical from top to bottom, it could be a mixture of all the places around the world, or just places I am familiar with. I have seen demons take me to a rusted overgrown deserted town just to torture me. The nightmares back then got to me, but now they serve as nice wee entertainment and a thrill mostly, once I wake. But back then, I didn't look up. Even if I were to fly into the clouds, I would close my eyes. I would distract myself in the dream, and let it play out. But it was always there. The object in the sky. Nightmares be damned. It terrified me, still does sometimes.
By Fergus Thomson2 years ago in Fiction
Daddy's little hobby. Content Warning.
Jack got out of the car and opened the door to the passenger’s seat before offering his arm to help a girl get out. It was a cold autumn evening, the sun had already set and the once colorful leaves that were blown about in a wildfire of oranges and reds changed to a more somber palette, adding volume to the shadows and providing cover for the creatures lurking in the dark. An observant passerby would’ve stated that the couple was warmly dressed: the man wore a long coat, a hat that obscured his face and was carrying a heavy leather briefcase. The woman wore a winter dress and a cozy scarf around her neck; the whole outfit was completed by a dainty little hat with a violet attached to the brim. The man had his arm around the woman’s waist and was swiftly but surely guiding her into the depths of the park where no doubt a passionate evening awaited them. This picture-perfect representation of what a couple hopelessly in love would look like brought appeasement and joy to the park’s late visitors but did not stay in one’s memory for long due to its ordinariness. Using the cover that the darkness had to offer, Jack made no effort to conceal the girl’s troubled breathing, her pale cheeks, glassy, emotionless eyes and general disheveledness of appearance. Although she wanted to call for help or fight her kidnapper, the girl was so heavily sedated that she couldn’t utter a word, let alone move one of her leaden arms. The couple made their way deeper into the park’s wooded area.
By Daria Voynova2 years ago in Fiction
Sleeping in the Rain. Content Warning.
Rain, rain, rain - the rain fell like dull grey, leaden bullets, tearing through layers of the atmosphere before colliding with the pavement and exploding into clouds of stinging, wet shrapnel. Sandy watched the downpour wash away the city life and fake neon colors. She watched people scurrying in the streets like rats fleeing a predator, trying to stay out of the rain that washed their makeup and plastic smiles away, leaving behind only their naked, ugly selves. People hated the rain because it reminded them that not everything in the perfect little world they tried to build was beautiful and spotlessly clean. They hated it because it reminded them that their city rested on the bones of a different city, a different age, one that had been buried and forgotten. They hated it because the old men still remembered the bullets that had rained down on them from above, the gleaming mechanical eagles that had swooped down and preyed on an unwary mother, a weakened elder, a disobedient child, then disappeared again into the stormy gloom. The younger generations did not and would not remember the horrors that their parents and grandparents had gone through, they preferred to build a plastic city on their history, locking it forever under layers of shiny offices and blinding advertisements. The people hated the rain, and Sandy hated them.
By Daria Voynova2 years ago in Fiction
Enchanted Melody
Madison recognized the woman on stage that night. She saw the slight shake in her hands gripping the mic, how her eyes closed when hitting the high notes. It brought Madison back to being twelve, finding that strange tape hidden behind her dresser.
By Jeff Hutchings2 years ago in Fiction
Who are you?. Content Warning.
“Who do you think you are? Einstein?” This phrase resonated in Ian’s head as he curled into a ball to protect himself from the kicks that rained on him from every side. This time he hasn’t managed to slip out of school unnoticed. Unluckily for him. The pain, however, was blocked out by the fact that Ian’s English essay, which he had been working on for the past three weeks, was lying next to him in shreds. He had nothing to show his parents to prove that he wasn’t as worthless as they thought. Ian always tried to be honest with himself and this time, he knew that what was waiting for him at home won’t be any better than what Jack and his gang could do. He already heard his father sneering as he listened to Ian’s “petty little excuses”, or hearing him out with fake compassion written all over his face to later whisper to his mother “I knew that he’d never make it. Who does he think he is?”
By Daria Voynova2 years ago in Fiction
Journey to the Mysterious Island: An Adventure Unfolds
The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the restless sea as the research vessel, The Odyssey, cut through the waves. Dr. Lucas Harrington, a renowned marine biologist, stood on the deck, the salty breeze invigorating his senses. Today marked the beginning of an expedition he had dreamed of for years: the journey to the mysterious island of Isla Perdida.
By Alexander Mensah2 years ago in Fiction
