Psychological

Desperation. Content Warning.
His messages came just before midnight, when my apartment was a nest of blue light, and the kettle hissed in soft bursts like it could hear me think. I scrolled through his photos. He had two of the same photo in a row, one slightly more cropped than the other: a man half-wedged against his truck, with a smile that wanted to be easy. His bio seemed like it had been created in a haphazard plume of a joint. We messaged for a while. He said the right things quickly, and the wrong things even faster. I stared at the screen until the screen was staring back into me.
By Autumn Stew4 months ago in Fiction
The Passport of Torenza
They found her in the pre-clearance queue at Torrento International just after midnight, a single passport on the stainless steel tray and a story nobody at the airport could fit into their forms.
By Wellova 4 months ago in Fiction
Through the Keyhole of Memory
Part One – The Commission Elias Maren had learned to listen to silence— not the heavy kind that falls after loss, but the patient hush that lingers before precision. The pause between the tick and the next tick.
By Rick Allen4 months ago in Fiction
Don't Look Too Closely
Something was just…off. It was 2 am, and Evan was finally shutting down his gaming console after a few hours of catching up with his friends on a slow Thursday evening. Of course, those few hours had turned into several after talking trash across glowing screens and friendly fire, and he cursed under his breath after checking the time on his phone. His screen’s harsh blue light seemed almost too bright, slicing through the dim calm of his apartment. Along with the hum of the refrigerator and faint tick of the wall clock, everything felt unusually loud in the quiet aftermath of digital laughter.
By Nicole Fenn4 months ago in Fiction
Etha and May. Top Story - October 2025.
Etha and May are as different as night is to day. If we are to be particular, we would say one wore red and the other, shades of mild yellow. Both are strong willed, set in their ways, motherly Black women. Etha lives upstairs in the quaint three story house in the Brookdale neighborhood of East 55th street of Brooklyn, NY. May occupied the apartment somewhere between the ground floor and the middle of the house.
By Antoni De'Leon4 months ago in Fiction
When Dreams Become Memories
When Dreams Become Memories I woke up this morning remembering a birthday party. There were balloons, a cake with pale blue frosting, and a woman laughing softly as she smeared a bit of icing on my nose. I could smell the vanilla, feel her hand, and hear a child’s giggle echoing behind us.
By Abdul Muhammad 4 months ago in Fiction
The Door That Shouldn’t Exist. AI-Generated.
It was 2:17 a.m. when Noah woke up to that sound again — a low creak, like a whispering hinge somewhere down the hallway. He sat up, heart pounding, his room dimly lit by the silver light leaking through the blinds. The old house had its noises, yes, but this one… this one was different.
By Nusuki4 months ago in Fiction
The Last Prayer of Rahim
There’s a small village at the edge of nowhere — the kind of place where time moves slowly, and people remember everything. That’s where Rahim lived.
By Vocal Member 4 months ago in Fiction
Behold, I Stand at the Door. Honorable Mention in A Knock at the Door Challenge.
There it is again, that distinct sound of a knock at the door. I would probably find that less disconcerting if I knew where the door is. Forget who’s standing on the other side of it. There’s not one anywhere I can see. And I can see a long way in every direction.
By Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock4 months ago in Fiction
The Gentle Ones
Iouri woke before dawn, the stove cold. He rubbed his hands until the ache eased and set water to boil. The air held the sour trace of clay and smoke, a scent he welcomed for its proof that work still lived here, that he did too.
By Fatal Serendipity4 months ago in Fiction
Boop. Content Warning.
Part I The knock at the door wasn't unusual - just four knocks - knock-knock-knock-knock. Usual. The thunderous barking of Ryan Seacrest, my Scottish Terrier wasn't unusual. Pound-for-pound, Scottish Terriers have the loudest bark in the canine kingdom.
By John R. Godwin4 months ago in Fiction
Remember Your Childhood Bedroom!. Content Warning.
Imagination in childhood is powerful. For a short time, it shapes our lives but how we loose it.. I remember waking up in my bedroom, colours bursting all around me, toys of every shape and size waiting to be played with. Big smiles, bold eyes, and bright creatures greeted me each morning. Back then, even the smallest things seemed huge and magical.
By Cryptic Edwards4 months ago in Fiction