Psychological
The Loss Of A Father. Content Warning.
Cathy and Jason stood by their father's grave in silence. It had been three weeks since that horrible motorbike accident had taken him. Neither of them could accept that he was gone, and the grief felt like they were constantly falling into a black void with no light. They had no words for each other, only the silent tears of their hearts which were consumed with the stabbing pain of loss, anger, darkness, and sadness.
By Carol Ann Townend2 years ago in Fiction
The White Room
Unable to handle his anxious curiosity anymore, Lionel nervously peeked at his new friend. Austin was still sitting while staring at the white wall before him, his arms pinning his knees to his chest. He was chewing the nail on his thumb even though it was already a stub and he seemed to be trembling, despite the white room not being cold at all. And worst of all, Lionel was almost a hundred percent sure that Austin’s breathing had gotten even more erratic and shallow.
By Rebecca Patton2 years ago in Fiction
The Eternal Trio
In a small, picturesque town nestled between rolling hills and lush forests, there lived two men, Oliver and Ethan, whose lives were intertwined by an unbreakable bond, and a girl named Lily, whose presence had brought a radiant light into their world. Theirs was a story of love that transcended conventional boundaries and defied societal norms.
By Life Goes On2 years ago in Fiction
The Battle Against Herself
Staring back at me through the glass of the mirror was someone I could not recognize. This girl staring back at me - she wasn't different at all. She was me. She was actually me. Yet, she wasn't. Staring back at me was the shell of what I once was, but the emotions she carried inside of her- that's where we divided. She was the shell of what once was. What could've been. Staring back at me through the glass of the mirror was someone I destroyed a long time ago. Someone whom I must say goodbye.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet2 years ago in Fiction
Drag Queen From Hell
His name was Louis. He was quite a sight to see I suppose, standing six foot three and wearing red, stiletto, high heels. His painted red lips sloped downwards in a frown. A white mask hid his brown skin. Pink, elbow length gloves cover up his brown hands. His lean, muscular chest was exposed in a lime, green cocktail dress. His sinewy biceps flexed superfluously as he clutched his solid ax in his hands. His powerful, runner’s legs rippled with muscle as he stomped through the snow-covered streets.
By DJ Robbins2 years ago in Fiction
