Psychological
The Visitors. Content Warning.
Do you remember the story of Krista Lancaster? She was a reclusive woman, who never left her home, who relied on her neighbor, and who was rude to everyone, even the neighbor and his family, though everyone living nearby seemed to believe she had a soft spot for them.
By Luna Jordan5 months ago in Fiction
The Drawer with the Key
The key was in the kitchen drawer, the one that always stuck. I had to tug the handle twice, then slide a butter knife along the side to unjam whatever invisible thing had folded itself into the track. A paperclip, a dried pea, a decade. The key lay in the back, where it had lain the last time I lived in this house, on a ring with two others that fit locks nobody used anymore.
By Alain SUPPINI5 months ago in Fiction
When The Wolf Spoke. Content Warning.
Prologue: Snow whispered as it fell, a hush that seemed to swallow even the grief clinging to Manya’s chest. She sat close to the fire, its weak orange glow fighting back the endless blue of the Siberian night, flickering against the hollow cave they hunkered down in. Shadows stretched long and strange along the jagged walls, twisting itself like smoke into faces half-remembered by time. Her daughter curled in her lap, raven hair tangled mimicking threads of smoke, small fingers curls in the edge of Manya’s fur cloak.
By Ghoulishtale Studios5 months ago in Fiction
Faithful
“Bang, bang, bang” woke me from my deep slumber. It wasn’t a polite knock. It was thunderous – like someone was trying to alert me of a fire. I looked at the clock. 3:16. I usually woke up around 6:00. No smoke. I rolled over, thinking I could get some more sleep, but the pounding resumed, this time even more incessant – louder and faster.
By Julie Lacksonen5 months ago in Fiction
The Mourning Crow
There was a knock at the door. Three neat raps, more polite than urgent, but wrong for the hour. Joseph glanced at the clock on the muted television screen: 11:03 p.m. He stared at the muted TV as if the blue-white flicker could explain it. On the screen, a sitcom mouth opened and closed in pantomime while the laugh track, a thing he could almost hear from memory, never came. He hadn't been expecting anyone. He never expected anyone. The apartment around him seemed to hold its breath.
By Joseph Cosgriff5 months ago in Fiction
The gardener and the forgotten garden. Content Warning.
The garden had been forgotten for years. What was once a vibrant, organized display of life had become an untamed sprawl of weeds and forgotten foliage. The soil, once rich and dark, was hard and cracked, and a thin layer of dust covered everything.
By Info World5 months ago in Fiction
The Mirror of Creation
They told us the river was only a river, but my mother called it a mouth—the place where the first breath rose from the dark and learned the shape of a body. When I was a child, I laughed at her stories and threw stones into the current to prove it was water and nothing more. The stones never came back. That was all the proof I wanted then.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales5 months ago in Fiction
When Lightning Stops Striking
Marcus Holloway was born on Friday the 13th during a solar eclipse, and somehow the universe never let him forget it. At three months old, he'd been the only baby in the maternity ward to catch chicken pox. At five, he was the kid who found the one rotten egg during the Easter hunt. By twelve, he'd set three Guinness World Records for "most consecutive lottery tickets without winning," "most job rejections in a single day," and "most times struck by bird droppings in one afternoon."
By Christopher Hodgson5 months ago in Fiction
Governments Best Friends. Top Story - September 2025.
We've all seen them, perched on high wires or rooftops, staring at the world below. Crows congregate in small groups, and when one departs the murder, another quickly takes its place. Have you ever asked yourself what they are looking for and who they are reporting their observations to?
By Mark Gagnon5 months ago in Fiction
