Stream of Consciousness
Back to School
Who remembers reporting to school on that first day of school? Walking into those freshly waxed hallways and classrooms, catching up with some friends that you haven't seen all summer. Then, the bell rings and you head to your homeroom and find your seat and seek out your schedule to see what kind of year you are going to have with happiness or trepidation. All the days as it has done for years starts out with the Pledge of Allegiance followed by a moment of silent meditation followed by morning announcements. Welcome back, everyone and let's have a great year!
By Mark Graham6 months ago in Fiction
Dog Days of August
August to me is the Dog Days of Summer as well as the month to get ready for Back-to-School. The days are still hot, and one just lays around for the last days of just plain relaxing are just about done for the busy days are not that far off now. The excitement for me and going back-to-school and seeing all my school friends, but also the excitement of family reunions and a few other end-of-summer picnics. The dog days of August are days to remember and to take a breath for Christmas is not that far away for us.
By Mark Graham6 months ago in Fiction
Under the Crimson Sky
By Nadeem Shah The sky bled red the evening I returned to Raven Hollow. I hadn’t been back in twelve years—not since the night everything I believed in was shattered. The roads felt narrower, the trees darker, like the whole town was holding its breath, waiting for me to remember what I’d tried so hard to forget.
By Nadeem Shah 6 months ago in Fiction
Torcan: the Vortex and the Boar
Summers often hold hints of golden light and unforgettable good memories, but the summer of 2003 was not one of them. There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens. This was the season of disappointment.
By Katherine D. Graham6 months ago in Fiction
Midnight at the Carnival of Lost Souls
I was nineteen when I stumbled upon the Carnival of Lost Souls. Not in a dream, not in a book—but in real life, on a night when I had nothing left but questions and silence. It was October, the wind sharp with the scent of drying leaves and burning wood. I had run away from another argument, another slammed door, another feeling I didn’t know how to carry.
By Fazal Hadi6 months ago in Fiction
The $5 Scratch Card That Changed My Life
It was just another Thursday morning. The kind of day where the coffee tastes dull, your phone is filled with spam notifications, and your to-do list is longer than your patience. I stopped at the gas station like I always do — to fuel both my car and my mood. I grabbed a coffee, a pack of gum, and on a whim, a $5 scratch card. The kind with shiny gold foil and flashy promises.
By Shoaib Afridi6 months ago in Fiction
The Last Light in the City
In the ruins of a once-bustling city, silence hummed louder than the sirens that had once echoed through its streets. Buildings stood like tired skeletons, and the wind carried stories of a time when life thrived here—laughter on balconies, street musicians, and lights that blinked into the dawn.
By Fazal Hadi6 months ago in Fiction
Summer in Chrome
A sleek, red-streaked chrome vintage car speeds along a neon-lit summer's night highway, shades of blue blending into the intrigue of both the night and the vehicle. Rain streaks across the windshield, reflecting the dazzling lights of the city. The car's design blends classic aesthetics with futuristic upgrades, its body adorned with glowing neon accents and intricate engravings. The scene is reminiscent of Syd Mead's visionary futurism and Katsuhiro Otomo's cyberpunk artistry, with a touch of Simon Stalenhag's dystopian atmosphere. The overall effect is a mesmerizing blend of retro and futuristic elements, capturing the essence of speed, style, and technological advancement.
By Antoni De'Leon6 months ago in Fiction
The Girl Who Spoke to Shadows
Most people are afraid of shadows. They keep their lights on, avoid dark corners, and fill their days with noise and distraction. But not Mira. Mira was different. She spoke to shadows—not just the ones that danced on her bedroom walls or flickered under streetlights, but the ones people carried within them.
By Fazal Hadi6 months ago in Fiction
