Stream of Consciousness

Stagnant Waters
Special Agent Thomas J. Beeman stood at the edge of the brackish green backwater, looking over his surroundings. Taking a deep breath of the humid, putrid-smelling air, he almost gagged. The Mentholatum that he normally used to cover crime scene smells didn’t seem to work here. It appeared the stench of death and decay was one he’d never get used to.
By Mother Combs4 months ago in Fiction
The child I was...
It began with a knock. Not hurried, not polite—slow, deliberate. The kind of knock that carried its own knowledge, its own weight, as though the hand that struck the wood was not asking for entrance but declaring inevitability.
By Taylor Ward4 months ago in Fiction
The Secrets My Mother Kept
The water wasn't water anymore. Alexander understood this with a clarity that felt both new and impossibly old. What surrounded him was something else entirely - a substance that moved like memory, that breathed like thought. It pulsed with its own rhythm, a heartbeat that seemed to sync with something deep in his chest - something that had been dormant until now.
By Parsley Rose 4 months ago in Fiction
All Better Now.
Day One. Elara woke to sunlight spilling across the floor in stripes she did not remember seeing before. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and rain. Her chest felt lighter than it had in months. She flexed her fingers, then her toes. She was awake. Finally.
By Test4 months ago in Fiction
A Knock At The Door . Runner-Up in A Knock at the Door Challenge.
For a while now, it had knocked at my door. Asking for its room key. But I couldn't see its name on the list. As far as I knew, it hadn't rented out a room before. So, I sent it on its way. Told it to try the hotel down the street. I'd heard lots of its friends had stayed there for a night or two.
By Sarah O'Grady4 months ago in Fiction
City Full of Strangers
The notification appeared on every screen in the city at exactly 3:33 AM: CDC ALERT ACTIVATED. REMAIN CALM. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO LEAVE THE CITY.
By Parsley Rose 4 months ago in Fiction
The Anywhere Door
Chapter 1: Discovery Mira first noticed the door on a Tuesday. Not because it appeared suddenly—it had always been there in her grandmother's basement, tucked behind the old furnace like a forgotten afterthought. What she noticed was that it had no handle on the basement side, no hinges, no frame that made sense with the foundation walls. It was simply a door that existed, painted the same faded blue as summer sky.
By Autumn 4 months ago in Fiction
Where the Paint Peels
The town clung to the rocky shore like barnacles on a ship's hull, its buildings weathered into something between architecture and driftwood. What had once been pristine white clapboard siding now bore the scars of countless storms—paint peeling in long, papery strips that curled and fluttered in the salt-heavy breeze like dying moths.
By Parsley Rose 4 months ago in Fiction
When Lanterns Drown
The harbor smelled of salt, smoke, and old wood. Lanterns hung from every post along the pier, swinging gently in the evening breeze. Yet the light they offered was weak, flickering like it knew its days were numbered. People said the water had grown hungry. That it pulled light down into its depths, feeding on it until nothing remained. Most ignored such stories. Few dared to walk the docks at night.
By syed4 months ago in Fiction
The Silent Orchard
There was a path few dared to walk. Not because it was long, not because it was treacherous, but because silence itself seemed to guard it. The orchard lay at the end of that path, a stretch of land abandoned by time, where rows of ancient apple trees grew without care, their roots tangled like secrets. People said no bird sang there, no wind dared to whistle, and if you stepped inside, the hush would fall upon you like a cloak too heavy to shake off.
By syed4 months ago in Fiction
The Secrets My Mother Kept
Brittney awoke to tears streaming down her face. In her lap, an old book with scratches on the back and front cover. Alexander lay still in the bed next to her, a monitor beeping every so often to the rythm of his heart.
By Parsley Rose 4 months ago in Fiction
Ashes of Tomorrow
The city had no sky anymore. Smoke swallowed it decades ago, turning daylight into a dim, endless dusk. Towers leaned like broken teeth, their glass eyes shattered, and the streets pulsed faintly with the hum of machines that had outlived their makers. People whispered about leaving, about finding someplace untouched, but no one had ever returned with proof such a place existed.
By syed4 months ago in Fiction