Stream of Consciousness

Morning And Night
Each morning when he wakes, the first thing on his mind is her, his soulmate and friend. When he goes to sleep at night, he sends her a message saying he is there for her, but needs to sleep. We all need to sleep.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 19 days ago in Fiction
Structured
"So why do we need a structure? Why can't we just do what we want?" "Everything must have a structure, a start, then content and finally an ending. Look at what you just said, which started with the word 'So', then you asked two questions, which were the content, before ending on the word 'want'.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 19 days ago in Fiction
Patter. Content Warning.
”Shut it ya wee bawbag.” “Am no having it pal” “You wee shite. I will rip you to pieces like Wallace.” “That’s enough from you ya fucking mingin pest.”
By Karl McBeath19 days ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Lost His Soul. Content Warning.
THE SEER’S RETRIEVAL: Archive 2025 "What follows is a work of Speculative Truth. Born from the analog grain of 1985 and developed in the high-definition suite of 2025, this story is a Sci-Fi frequency shift a narrative map of one mother’s journey to reclaim a lineage that the 'Hard Reality' tried to delete.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 23 days ago in Fiction
DECODING THE MAN FROM A NON-EXISTENT COUNTRY
On a summer day in Oia in 1954, at Haneda International Airport in Tokyo, Japan, passengers streamed through passport control. Everything seemed normal until a middle-aged, well-dressed man approached the immigration counter. Customs officers examined his thick passport, and suddenly, an eerie silence fell. The passport appeared valid, containing visa stamps from numerous countries, but there was one inconsistency. It was issued by a country called Taured, a nation that didn't exist on Earth.
By HieuDinh24 days ago in Fiction
listen
Listen, focus and concentrate. I am going to explain to you what happened and why. It hurts me to remember it and hurts more to say it out loud. So this will be the full sorry tale, there will be all the information you need and at the end there should be no questions. If I miss anything out you will have to ask someone else. I am getting old and tired, just want to get a few things off my chest before I go.
By ASHLEY SMITH25 days ago in Fiction
The path
The path to the shrine of the Prophet Isaiah led to nowhere for her. On the grassy verge of the path was the imprint of a dewy grass, creating an earthy smell. The ground had sucked in all the water from the now flat, smooth ground and breathed out heavily. The oxygen in the air caught on the soil, leaves, and stones, releasing a revived scent not remembered by the brain but by the body.
By RAOM25 days ago in Fiction
It Was the Night Before Christmas
It was the evening before Christmas and everything was astir no stockings were hung for no one seemed to care even the mouse in the hole seemed a little down.
By Mark Graham25 days ago in Fiction
Wordy Delight
Have you ever fallen on a sword 🗡️ for protecting your family’s reputation. I am talking about the cultural tradition of cooking sumptuous meals to offer and share the unending joy and fulfillment through it.
By Madhu Goteti 25 days ago in Fiction
The house with memories. Content Warning.
The house with memories The old structure at the end of Maple Street was still standing with its silence, as if holding its breath to not awaken all of the memories sleeping on the wooden floors.
By RAOM27 days ago in Fiction
Auroras Beyond the Last Forest - Mysteries of the North Pole
The journey toward the North Pole did not begin with coordinates or maps, but with a forest older than memory itself. The Taiga Forest stretched endlessly beneath a sky that never fully darkened, its snow-laden trees standing like quiet witnesses to centuries of travelers who had come seeking answers rather than destinations. This was not a forest that resisted passage - it tested intention. Every step forward felt deliberate, as if the land itself required certainty before allowing anyone deeper. It was here that the travelers gathered - not heroes in the traditional sense, but beings shaped by curiosity, patience, and winter’s discipline. Among them walked humans wrapped in layered wool and belief, forest spirits whose footsteps left no imprint, and small luminous fair folk - fairies - whose wings refracted the pale light into soft prisms. Even the wind seemed aware of them, slowing its breath as they advanced northward.
By José Juan Gutierrez 27 days ago in Fiction
The Reaper’s Ledger. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
Liam Callahan was drunk, murderously drunk, when he climbed into the rideshare heading south from Boston on the night before Christmas Eve.
By Mr. Usevolod Voskoboinikov27 days ago in Fiction