Psychological
You and that Rascally Rabbit. Runner-Up in The Forgotten Room Challenge.
You’re born in a rural hometown, in the backroom of a mom and pop hardware store because your mother’s water broke three weeks early while they were shopping for a new hammer because your dad needed, he just needed, that new hammer because he couldn’t get the baby room finished just right.
By Amos Glade5 months ago in Fiction
Door Slam
“Tap, tap, tap.” “And so gently she came rapping,” I muttered to myself. This was the third time this week and I sighed. It was Sunday so at least I was prepared with coffee and cookies in the oven. And by ‘prepared’ I meant only technically, mentally I could never be prepared for this shit. I had come to dread the sound of those taps on my door. My cozy little apartment, my place of solitude and peace, so suddenly turning to a prison of torment by just two feet shuffling their way across the threshold of my door. It wasn’t the big things, there weren’t big things she did that I could point to and say ‘this is why’. No it was more insidious than that, it was a bunch of little things piling up, death by a thousand cuts.
By Raine Fielder5 months ago in Fiction
The Quiet Things That Die. Content Warning.
Rick Mallory got the citation on a Thursday morning, just before the sun had finished rising. The mail carrier hadn’t bothered to knock. The envelope was crammed halfway into the box, plastic window already smudged with the dirty thumbprint of whoever had handled it last. Rick tugged it loose and carried it inside like it was a trap and he knew it. He stood at the sink and balanced the letter on his palm like a bad coin. The paper felt too thin. Government mail was always printed on paper that felt ashamed of itself.
By Fatal Serendipity5 months ago in Fiction
The Last Train Home
The Last Train Home By Abdul Muhammad The station was nearly empty when I arrived. A single overhead light buzzed and flickered as I stood on the platform, clutching my backpack like it was a lifeline. The last train of the night shrieked in the distance, echoing against the concrete walls.
By Abdul Muhammad 5 months ago in Fiction
The Silence of Oris – Part 1
Eric had always found the ocean comforting—until the night it answered back. He was thirty-two, a marine acoustic technician stationed at the remote research facility of Blackwater Bay. His work involved mapping sonar disturbances, tracking whales, and documenting the sounds rising from the dark Atlantic shelf. It was quiet, lonely work, but after the death of his sister two years ago, loneliness had become a tolerable companion.
By Shehzad Anjum5 months ago in Fiction
Don't go in the Attic. AI-Generated.
Don't Go in the Attic Chapter One: The Sisters Glenda Brady was the kind of woman who wore diamonds to breakfast and tantrums to dinner. She had never been told “no” without retaliation. Her older sister Carmen, by contrast, preferred the quiet hum of soil and sun. While Glenda chased champagne and silk, Carmen nurtured tomatoes and silence.
By Cindy Gimnes5 months ago in Fiction
Three knocks for sorrow.
The Alderman family were preparing for bed as winter roared outside. It was a chilled and freezing night, but the house was warm and cozy, the heat cranked up to maximum. Outside the wind moaned and the shutters groaned. The limbs on the trees made loud swishing noises, while the weeping willow mournfully swayed, as if tonight, it was expecting somber news. But then, willow was like that, except when the wind rested and a rare silence embraced the night...then the tree just drooped woefully.
By Novel Allen5 months ago in Fiction
The Knock That Shattered My World
As a bookworm, I read all the books on the shelf, both appropriate and not for my age. That morning, I woke up hoping to find a new story hiding in a paperback. Mom was heating water for tea, and there were still cookies left on the plate. The warm, sweet smell of shortbread made the kitchen feel cozy. Life was good! We felt peaceful. I was happy.
By Nina Domricheva5 months ago in Fiction
