Psychological
The Rub: To sleep — Perchance to Dream
January 3 is a day to commemorate the Festival of Sleep Time for bed: bed time. One ticket for the Mattress Ball. Thad's satiety has been achieved, his hunger sated, and his day's goings-on were now gone-on and, it seemed, stood complete. As the human animal, Thad lay in state, at peace, hypnogoguic in pleasant reverie, and would fall into the somnolence arising within him.
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
Love and Care
Once upon a time in the village of Serenity Hollow there resided two individuals whose lives were entwined by destiny. Amara, an artist, with a heart that mirrored the vastness of her painted canvas and Elias, a gentle soul who sought solace in the melodic whispers of the wind through ancient trees.
By NOpanayaka2 years ago in Fiction
A Life Called Death
Taunt eyes and a deep set jaw, stare back at me. A curling knot sets in my stomach; fear. “Who are you?” I whispered out to the strange creature. His head cocked to the left, his eyes watered. I stayed still, puzzled by the marvelous being. He has a broken bone in his leg and a gushing wound on the other side. I want to help but I do not know how. I bent down and pulled myself towards him.
By Sylvia Rogers2 years ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Bamboo
Some time ago, there stood a lavish bamboo woods that held a venerated place in the hearts of the residents. The transcending green stalks of bamboo influenced smoothly in the delicate breeze, making an entrancing sight that captivated all who observed it.
By Kyrol Mojikal2 years ago in Fiction
Versions of Introversion
JANUARY 2, WORLD INTROVERT DAY For too long he blended into the background. He remained merely at his steady state — his most stable, constant, regular, even, uniform, unchanging, unvarying, unwavering, unfluctuating, invariant, and unbroken energy stratum of inadventurous venturism.
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
The Psychic's Warning: A Haunting Premonition
I had always been curious about psychics, but I never had the courage to visit one. Until one day, when I was feeling lonely and frustrated with my marriage. My husband, Mark, had been distant and cold lately, spending more time at work than at home. He barely talked to me, let alone touched me. I wondered if he was having an affair, or if he had fallen out of love with me.
By Peter Idowu2 years ago in Fiction
Transference
Everyone talks about the heart as though it’s more than a pump. My heart aches for you. I love you with all my heart. You broke my heart. Blah, blah, blah—the euphemisms go on forever, no matter how unrealistic they are. It’s the brain, not the heart, which controls emotions and everything else in the body, including the heart. So, when I learned I needed a heart transplant, I thought go for it.
By Mark Gagnon2 years ago in Fiction
