Psychological
To Dust
The world ended on a Wednesday. Not with fire or thunder or a sudden vanishing—just a quiet, almost polite collapse. The sun rose pale. The air tasted metallic. And the dust, fine as ash and soft as winter breath, drifted from the horizon like a slow-moving tide.
By Alexander Mind2 months ago in Fiction
The Night I Realized I Wasn’t Alone in My Own Mind
There are moments in life when reality doesn’t split cleanly down the middle—when the normal and the impossible blur together, and you’re left standing somewhere in the fog between them. That night, I didn’t just step into the fog. I drowned in it.
By Muhammad Reyaz2 months ago in Fiction
Knew not confinement (Vignette ). Content Warning.
The word you might use to describe me would be: lesbian, a charting author, or something in between. I was drawn by the way she was moving on her feet, yet I knew that alone did not set her apart. She pushed quick shifts like a half breath that never became steps. Her shoulders were perched high, covering her neck with a kind of guarded confidence. The candy coloured crystals held in the jewelleries, blinked a glint in the light; They finished the question her lips wouldn't speak.
By Caitlin Charlton2 months ago in Fiction
Wolves of Revolution. Content Warning.
“But you see, it’s not me. It’s not my family...” - Zombie, by the Cranberries -0- Grinding against ribs, the knife carried a drowning torrent of blood in its wake. The body of a young man fought against the inevitable. Limbs spasmed, fingers clawed impotently behind him, desperately trying to preserve themselves even as his airflow steadily choked off.
By Alexander McEvoy2 months ago in Fiction
Can I Get You Another?
“Can I get you another?” In a dimly lit bar, where the air seems to sit still, and the wood seems to carry the invisible stains of thousands of years of service, a man of 58 years, wearing a suit and tie, sits with an empty glass in front of him. He lifts the glass, curious, then sets it back down. The noise of a door opening at the front of the bar is heard, but when the man wheels around he sees the large wooden door at the entrance closed tight. A faint laughter drifts overhead. He looks behind him but finds only a line of empty booths. The stools beside him are empty as well. He tilts his head back towards the ceiling and can barely make out the light fixtures, as though they’re hidden behind a layer of fog. A wave of uneasiness flows over the lone man at the bar. But he’s not alone, is he? “Didn’t I just hear someone”, he thinks.
By Tyler Tomson2 months ago in Fiction
SEASON 8 - Whispers from the Lantern: The Keeper's Lament
Chapter 15 The silence was a palpable thing, a heavy blanket that settled over the entire coast. Aris and his team stood in the now-calm lantern room, a profound sense of exhaustion washing over them. The Keeper was gone. The drowned were gone. The mournful lament was gone.
By Tales That Breathe at Night2 months ago in Fiction
The Law of Inertia: A strange pull
He stared into the distance, drawing in each breath of oxygen with his chest. It felt as though there was not enough air — not only in his lungs, but in his life itself. For a long time now, he had been searching for the meaning of why he should continue working at the publishing house at all. Every day brought the same monotonous articles about fleeting celebrity scandals, containing nothing new except photographs of movie stars captured in ever more revealing angles of their moral downfall.
By Anhelina Vasylieva2 months ago in Fiction
Forgotten
I sit alone, as I always do. In a corner where everything is seen and I am seen by everything. Fear rushes through me as someone enters the room. I cannot see their face and I tremble at the thought of what they want. Words, sounds, speech, a question... a conversation. I thought I had forgotten how to have a conversation but it seems, as the draftiness in this room persists, so do old habits.
By Silver Holly Hope2 months ago in Fiction
Cleansed Now . Runner-Up in The Forgotten Room Challenge. Content Warning.
CONTENT WARNING: Some portions of this story may upset sensitive people or trigger bad memories. Liza occasionally took a glance out the window, giving her hands and eyes a quick rest from clothes ironing. Her hand ached from holding the heavy iron, and she wiped her brow with her apron. White round tufts on branches spread for acres, and she knew her children's hands would need loving care tonight from picking crops.
By Andrea Corwin 2 months ago in Fiction
In the room, in the room..
...In the room, in the room, Long-forgotten room Moss and mushrooms make the floor Daisies bloom... I raise a fittingly bitter wine to my lips toasting the past. The bag is waiting by the door and one glance at it makes my fingers tremble. A tiny drop of red wine bends the curve of the glass and forever imprints on my pristinely white shirt - I watch it happen over and over again.
By Salomé Saffiri2 months ago in Fiction
To Dust. Top Story - December 2025. Content Warning.
Cassus stood before the locked and barred tomb. Twenty years before, he laid its inhabitants to rest. It was as tombs made by families of modest wealth tended to be: four columns supporting an angled roof festooned with griffins, unicorns, and humble men seeking their eternal forgiveness from the Crescent Sun. The bards would pack the tavern with that irony. Cassus laughed to himself and the effort turned to a rasping cough that made his knees buckle. He knew he’d receive no such forgiveness when they laid him to rest.
By Matthew J. Fromm2 months ago in Fiction
