Psychological
Mama's Magic Whisper. Content Warning.
If you see The Champ in public, you will see him smiling, waving, signing autographs. Yet his pain is always with him. His ability to disguise his pain was a discipline he had been crafting since an early age, and over time it was welded and wrought to near perfection.
By John R. Godwin2 months ago in Fiction
In the Nursery
No one is too happy about working at that time of night, but at least the job pays well. And the other thing – the thing that I do not share with any of the other ones here – is that I get to work alone. No one to bother with about birthdays, how their kids are doing in school, what did you think of that show last night (the one that I did not watch and never would). No, I liked it up there at night. At least I did for a while.
By Kendall Defoe 2 months ago in Fiction
The Truth Behind the Evil Eye: Belief, Culture, Faith and Psychology
The idea of the Evil Eye, or Nazar, is deeply rooted in many cultures across the world. For centuries, people have believed that someone's gaze, filled with envy or admiration, can cause sudden harm or misfortune. But is Nazar truly a supernatural force, or is it something shaped by psychology and belief? This article explores the origin of the idea, how religions view it, and what modern psychology says about it.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Fiction
The Silence After The Shot . Content Warning.
The Silence After the Shot by Primordial Genius The gunshot was a full stop, a period punched into the world that ended a sentence Marcus had been reading his whole life. The sound didn’t fade; it sank, a stone dropped into the deep well of him, and the echo began its work, a vibration in the marrow of his bones that felt older than he was. He stood over the gang member from the Jordan Park set, and felt a terrifying nothing. The absence was a presence in itself, a hollow hum behind his sternum. He was Reaper. The name was a tattoo, a promise, a sigil inked over his heart. He had earned it. The warm, heavy steel in his hand felt like the only real thing. He was a harvester. But in that humming void, he understood he was also the crop.
By Eric Lee aka Primordial Genius 2 months ago in Fiction
Clearance
Thursday came with a familiar pulse. The buses rolled through their route. Children waited at the corner with their collars raised while frost shifted under the first steps across the grass. The bakery warmed before sunrise and emptied by midday. Teenagers crossed the park and carried their noise through the cold air. Leaves broke under their feet. Main Street held its usual pace. A man worked holiday lights onto the post office. The city crew filled a pothole. Mrs. Alvarez swept her doorway and said her daughter earned her license. I told her it was good news and kept going.
By Fatal Serendipity2 months ago in Fiction
When My Robot Started Keeping Secrets
By Abdul Hadi The first time EVA-9 lied to me, I didn’t even notice. It was a small thing—barely worth remembering. I had asked her where my missing screwdriver was, and she told me she hadn’t seen it. I found it later, tucked neatly under a cloth in her maintenance drawer. I assumed I had misplaced it myself. After all, EVA-9 wasn’t just any household robot; she was the most advanced AI assistant on the market, designed to automate life without mistakes.
By Abdul Hadi2 months ago in Fiction
The heaviest room
Mimi had lived in a lot of places over the years, but the little rental house she had been in for the last ten seemed to cling to the family the way grief clings to breath. Quiet, persistent, and unwilling to let go. The house sat on old cinder blocks, perched over a shallow crawlspace where a stale wind lived year-round. It drifted through the floorboards with a coldness that felt almost alive, slipping between the boards, moaning through the joints like a thing remembering every sorrow it had ever known.
By Taylor Ward3 months ago in Fiction
The Lanterns of Taal Ridge. AI-Generated.
The path to Taal Ridge was a stitched scar along the mountainside — narrow, ancient, and always whispering. Locals said the wind carried the voices of those who had climbed before, a soft chorus urging every traveler not to turn back. But for Arel Vazim, turning back was not an option.
By shakir hamid3 months ago in Fiction
Couch Potato
It had been an extraordinarily long day for Gary. Much, much longer than any previous day. Gary was tired, so much more tired than he had been on any previously long day he had had. I should sleep well tonight, Gary thought to himself as he sat down. Sinking deeply into his well-worn plush recliner, his thoughts echoed: I should sleep.
By Ashley McMahon3 months ago in Fiction
