Psychological
Plastic . Top Story - February 2024.
I would look in the mirror and all I could see was this plastic shell. When I was a young girl, over time, I realized I had people pleased my way into or out of situations. At times, it would come off a bit flamboyant or overly enthusiastic in conversation, portraying a phony persona, all to make sure I didn’t disappoint someone. It’s not that my intentions were to ever forge, but to make sure I’m pleasing everyone around me.
By Natasha Collazo2 years ago in Fiction
Frozen Reflections
In the desolate expanse of Lapland's snowy fields, horror writer Saga Knight awoke to an eerie reality. The chill clawed through her bones as she rose from the frozen ground, finding herself amidst a landscape she'd once merely conjured on the page.
By Victoria Bezzeg2 years ago in Fiction
Whispers in the Doll House: Part II
This is the second half of my prologue to a book I'm working on. You can find the Part I here. Rebecca tugged the collar of her white blouse, adjusting the crisp lines with nervous fingers. The opulent bathroom of the modern villa stretched before her, chrome fixtures gleaming under the recessed lighting. In the gilded mirror above the marble countertop, her reflection looked back, her pale skin and worried eyes betraying her outward composure.
By Nicole Gibson2 years ago in Fiction
PEPPERMINT 🍬
Her Momma named her Peppermint, on account of how she loved the smell of peppermint when she was carrying her. Now, Pepper had done some bad things in her life, one of them was happening right now. She was on the run from the law. Trevor's house had burned, and she had whooped, hollered and danced in front of it, while chugging down his best bottle of whiskey from the locked cabinet. Pepper had used the axe to pry it open while he slept, he had always been a dead sleeper. Then she broke all the other expensive liquor bottles, flicked the lighter on his bundle of clothes and watched as it slowly ignited. As the curtains burned, she smashed the last bottle on his door and ran outside, did her jig and took off in his jeep when he woke up and started yelling.
By Novel Allen2 years ago in Fiction
Horrified Survivor
Within the windowless room, where I sit and wonder, the light that shines above me as my only companion, it simmers with the delight that it enjoys giving, as if it were but a real and living and breathing thing. The light that shines above me as my friend and only companion inside of this shell of a room that once gave life to others, it is now a ghastly hall of vacancy. No longer the lingering cries or that of hinged demise, for it is no longer a place with life, for the void that has overtaken it alone kindles a reminder that I am but a last vessel.
By William L. Truax III2 years ago in Fiction
