Psychological

The Light of the Desert
And the wind sang along the dunes, and Malik took a brush against his shabby cloak, and the desert sand was like tiny sparks on his face. This was hours of walking on part of him, in pursuit of the horizon that kept on pushing away. The sun was now setting, and coloured the sky with fire and gold.
By Nusuki3 months ago in Fiction
Through 6B. Honorable Mention in Through the Keyhole Challenge.
“I think that’s everything you need to know,” the superintendent said, setting down the bags he’d carried to her new apartment. “6D. Here’s your key. Lose it and it’s a hundred bucks to replace.”
By Steph Marie3 months ago in Fiction
Her Hopes Up in Smoke. Runner-Up in Through the Keyhole Challenge.
We don’t have keyholes. We have warped sheets of plywood as doors. We’ve painted them to make them less utilitarian. A hook and eye fastens the door shut. But my parents’ door has suffered the loss of a few eyes over the years of slammed plywood on the heels of their fights.
By Leigh Victoria Phan, MS, MFA3 months ago in Fiction
Cutting the Key for the Ultimate Keyhole
I see the keyhole. Light shines through it, but like the Sun, it is not easy to see beyond the seething gases and fires that burn and create all that opens a portal to another world.
By Katherine D. Graham3 months ago in Fiction
Caught. Content Warning.
Miss Hanna’s porch light came on at 9:48. The Ring camera blinked once before the feed steadied. I knew she’d already brushed her teeth, fed her cat, and took her book to her room. Late enough to be in bed but not yet asleep. She always checked the door herself. People lived all around on this quiet street, but she was diligent.
By Fatal Serendipity3 months ago in Fiction
The Dream Team. Content Warning.
PART ONE: “Well…everything’s packed up,” he says as he sticks his pale, skinny fingers into his tight jean pockets. At least I will never have to go out with a man that doesn’t know his proper jean size. I tried to stare him down one last time—trying to find more imperfections to make this breakup easier. But I couldn’t; I unfortunately was still obsessed and in love with the man that just dropped me like a bad habit after two years of being together—and only eight months of living together. He couldn’t even finish out the lease and give me time to find a roommate. In my opinion—he at least owed me that.
By Sincerely, Selaiha 3 months ago in Fiction
After Knocking
The three of us stood outside his bedroom door, none wanting to be the first to knock. Well, Sam did, but I voted against it because I knew that if Michi did answer the door, Sam would manage to say something insensitive enough to get the door slammed in our faces. Will wasn’t opposed to knocking, but he wasn’t exactly close with Michi—despite them being two of the three guys to split the suite at the end of the dormitory’s sixth floor hallway—and figured if Michi looked through the peephole and saw him, he wouldn’t even bother acknowledging us at all.
By GL3 months ago in Fiction
Halloween House Party (3). Content Warning.
Chapter 3: “Like Hell!” I scream through gritted teeth, my black nails clawing behind me, catching the skin on his cheek as he stumbles back, blood from my wounds spilling down the side of my neck. Putting pressure on the fang marks I spin to face my attacker grabbing one of the bottles off the counter with my nondominant hand, smacking him in the head as hard as I can manage. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me again! Don’t look at me” I hit him again, “don’t talk to me, don’t have anything to fucking do with me!” He slides back towards the sink, blood pooling from his head to match the sticky substance staining my skin and leotard.
By 𝓗. 𝓒. 𝓡𝓾𝓫𝔂3 months ago in Fiction
An Old Game
It was happening again. His father, all silent, was standing in the crack of the doorway, not moving a muscle. And he, sitting caught on the bed, did not know what to say.
By Kendall Defoe 3 months ago in Fiction
Ada
Our humble homestead was much like the others in our town — bricks and mortar, hard work and sweat, the fruits of diligent labour and precise planning.
By Paul Stewart3 months ago in Fiction
The Night I Realized Love Wasn’t Meant To Save Me
I used to believe love was supposed to be the thing that rescued us. The thing that filled every empty space inside a person. The thing that fixed the parts of life that felt broken. I believed that love was the answer to loneliness, to fear, to the type of quiet sadness that sits in your chest like permanent weight.
By Umar Farooq3 months ago in Fiction
Patch Notes for a Life
It started with a glance through a keyhole that wasn’t a keyhole at all, just a smart panel mounted inside a maintenance closet no one was supposed to open. The door had been left a finger’s width ajar—a cracked mouth in a corridor of quiet—and I was on my night rounds, a janitor-security hybrid with a ring of keys heavy enough to anchor a small boat. The new building had new protocols; the new protocols had new passwords. But the oldest security is human laziness, and someone had propped the closet with a mop to “air it out” and then forgot the mop.
By The Kind Quill3 months ago in Fiction