Psychological
The Last Song in the Snow. AI-Generated.
Anton Markovic was known only by the sound of his violin. He played every evening at the frozen train station under the city bridge, where footsteps echoed like ghosts and the cold bit the bones of anyone foolish enough to linger.
By shakir hamid3 months ago in Fiction
The Blue Room. Content Warning.
When Lena turned the key, the house held its breath. It was an old house, the kind that kept its own weather. In the summer, it baked, in the winter it creaked like a ship in ice, and in all other seasons, it smelled faintly of lemon oil, mothballs, and something sweet she could never quite name. She had spent half her childhood here, sticky knees on wide-planked floors, Saturday cartoons echoing in the sitting room, the rattle of her grandmother’s sewing machine from down the hall. And always, at the end of the upstairs corridor, the closed door. The Blue Room.
By LaRae Pynas3 months ago in Fiction
What Will Happen To Our Earth
What Will Happen To Our Earth I often sit by the window and wonder what this world will look like when I am old. The sky never feels the same anymore. Some days it has a tired colour, as if it has been awake for too many years without a proper rest. I watch the clouds move and they seem slower than they used to be. It is strange how the earth can feel alive and unwell at the same time. I think we feel it too. Maybe we always have.
By Marie381Uk 3 months ago in Fiction
The Burden of Change. Content Warning.
Beth had a bad habit of picking at her skin. Clogged pores, pimples, scabs, you name it, she would rip it apart until there was a gaping, bloody hole in her skin. Armpits were the worst, and the best. So painful, but so satisfying to watch the pus drip out of.
By Shea Webster3 months ago in Fiction
Letters to My 15-Year-Old Self
I never imagined I’d write a letter to someone I used to be, not the kind of letter that just says, “Hey, you’ll be okay.” No, this was meant to reach a version of me who barely understood the world, who carried fears like heavy stones in her chest. And yet, as I sat at the edge of the old wooden desk, pen trembling in my hand, the words poured out as if they were always waiting to be written.
By Wahdat Rauf3 months ago in Fiction
Floor Between
I just used the elevator because my groceries were making noise and my knees were hurting. One watermelon, two bags, and the sixth floor gave me the appearance of having stolen a planet. Mailboxes with teeth, a corridor that smells like everyone's meal, and an elevator that acts like it was once a large hotel's favorite toy are just a few examples of how ancient the building is.
By Milan Milic3 months ago in Fiction
Free Your Mind. Top Story - November 2025.
John Hope opened his eyes and found himself lying on a stiff mattress. The mattress was striped and worn out and was covered by a grey comforter that felt like a scratch pad on John’s back. He sat up on the bed and looked ahead and was greeted by the sight of iron doors. John was in a jail cell, but he couldn’t recall why. “What am I doing here?” He thought to himself. “I didn’t commit a crime. I didn’t kill anyone. I don’t even have a criminal record. So why am I in a jail cell?”
By Joe Patterson3 months ago in Fiction
The Philosophical Room
Not so long ago, mankind made tremendous technological advances from steam to electricity. Many assumed that these inventions would automatically bring people closer, making society better. Instead, Bergson warned, without a matching effort toward moral and spiritual growth...technology would deepen divisions rather than bridge them.
By Novel Allen3 months ago in Fiction
