Psychological

What I Did Before My Summer Vacation
It was all my fault. I saw her arm rise, bent and coming up fast, with the fingers tight in what looked like a claw more than a fist and her face was beyond tense. Like she knew what she had to do. I was happy about that because I thought that I deserved what ever she had to dish out, since I had been a dumbass for most of the year. She was only responding with anger to my mistakes, doing what I may have done (shoe and the other foot). At least we dated.
By Kendall Defoe 3 years ago in Fiction
Tongue Tide
I’ll never forget the TV anchorwoman’s words to the only survivor of the plane crash: “Please tell us, in your own words, what happened next.”
By Eric Wolf4 years ago in Fiction
The Signal. Content Warning.
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window… That candle was a signal, the place where the graduating class of 2012 was to gather for a party.
By Sam Spinelli4 years ago in Fiction
The Laundry Daze
“You didn't call me over a minute too soon," the kid announced. "This old girl, she's hurting.” “You talking about me?” whispered the older woman, standing behind Text begins him, in the cramped kitchen of the farmhouse. There was no malice in her words, even in her tone of voice, but to a stranger, like the young technician, this would have not been apparent — “I’m feeling as right as one can feel. If anyone’s in bad shape, it’s him. He creaks when he walks, he’s so ancient. You ever hear yourself creaking, Jud?”
By Eric Wolf4 years ago in Fiction
Masque of the Black Death. Content Warning.
Once upon a midnight dreary, as I sat lonesome and weary. I thought of all the events of the night before. My deepest fears now confirmed that I was to blame, of all the ones who have gone the same way before. Carrier of the disease, survivor that I am, immunity a blessing and a curse. On the day of Hypomone, the fall of Constantinople and the death of Constantine XI, so we celebrate the birth of the helpful, Ruin of the twenty first year. With décor and aesthetic of the macabre, beauty and of fear.
By Raine Fielder4 years ago in Fiction
Rong Is Wright
“I haven’t written a word in two years,” said Audley Ruan. To the cafe’s server, he ordered,“Chicken salad on rye, and a cup of chai,” before he pivoted back to face his mysterious companion. “Writer’s block, I can handle, but this—”
By Eric Wolf4 years ago in Fiction
Mundy, Mundi
One learns to be patient, after a time — no pun intended — toiling in the lower ranks of the Time Bureau. I was not blessed with a patient mind, nor with an altogether forgiving nature, as many an ex of mine can confirm, but I do toil, most loyally. I recall when my moment of opportunity arrived, and it did not arrive alone…
By Eric Wolf4 years ago in Fiction
The Reflecting Pool
I love to visit the reflecting pool at the Maclay house, especially at dusk. As the sun sets and the insects and small animals move about, I sit quietly and wait. Most people come here to see the camellias, but I come here to sit by the pool. The park closes at sunset, but when is sunset exactly? It gives me a little leeway to stay a bit too late, and to walk the path past the striped, fragrant and exuberantly colored flowers.
By Terry Roe4 years ago in Fiction
Water's Edge
Cordelia felt like she needed to get to the cabin as quickly as possible. She had just gotten off work and was on her way to her first vacation in what felt like forever. When she finally saw it, her heart leaped, she hadn’t remembered her grandmother’s cabin being so grand. It looked like something out of a calendar. Dark wood logs stacked three stories with a wraparound porch, surrounded by the polychromatic leaves of autumn. Getting away from the coast was exactly what she needed, regardless of what her friends had to say. Living on the beach had not helped her anxiety about water. This place seemed as dry as it could get and that was exactly what she really needed.
By Raine Fielder4 years ago in Fiction
CEREMONY
It was the Ceremony for Recognition, a celebration to commemorate the reentry of the Union. Newman, and everyone young and old, even Grandma, was milling about seeking something. Suddenly the word “Molitar” bubbled up and broke the surface of Grandma's consciousness. Everyone knows Molitar. The children exclaimed, “Molitar!”
By Tom Demar4 years ago in Fiction
A Good Citizen
Molly liked to start her day by cleaning her apartment, like any good citizen would. She was alone in the house, now. Then again, Molly always remembered being alone.
By Ian Read5 years ago in Fiction
The Unexpected Visitor
Here is a fictional short story about an unexpected visitor with a twist. ... My hands molded the dough. Flour seeped into my fingernails as I turned the dough over. I placed the soft succulent mixture into a tin and put it into the oven before rinsing my hands under warm running water, drying them quickly on a towel. I drank the rest of the red wine from my glass and quickly wiped down the grey marble worktop cleaning the specs of flour off with a damp cloth. The trilling of the doorbell made me jump as my ginger head hit the saucepans hanging from the canopy.
By Denise Larkin5 years ago in Fiction