Stream of Consciousness

The Judgement In His Eyes
The Judgement In His Eyes He thinks I don’t notice, but I do. I see the glances and the arch of his brow when he thinks I’m not looking. Deep emerald eyes I love so much. On rare occasions, those eyes hold nothing but love and admiration - but only briefly. Mostly they are indifferent. But if I look closely, I see the judgement. I don’t appreciate him enough. I don’t show him enough affection. I show too much affection. I don’t love him the way he wants and needs to be loved.
By Erin M8 months ago in Fiction
Man Is Never Happy in Any State
I dreamt that a proclamation had been issued from the court of the Celestial King. Its message was this: all the people of the world should bring forth their sorrows, griefs, and tribulations and pile them in one place. For this purpose, a field had been designated — a field more vast than even the realm of imagination. People began arriving.
By Usama8 months ago in Fiction
"100 before I die"- The journal of M. Content Warning.
Entry #1086 – Sunday, 6:45 AM I slept like a saint. Woke up to silence. No crows this time, just that hollow nothingness that settles over the house after a clean kill. I sat in the kitchen with my tea, watching the steam curl like breath from a dying mouth.
By E. hasan8 months ago in Fiction
The Thought That Wasn’t Yours
It started with a whisper in her head. "Push him." It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even angry. Just casual. Like a suggestion. A background nudge.
By F. M. Rayaan8 months ago in Fiction
The Diary of the Person Who Will Ruin You
It started with a storm. The kind of storm that makes the air hum like an old television and makes you question if something's about to go terribly wrong. Eli didn't like storms, but he liked staying inside even less. He’d always been the kind of person who walked until his thoughts quieted down.
By F. M. Rayaan8 months ago in Fiction
The black door to my living room
When I first moved into the old house on Ferelith Lane, I didn’t notice anything strange. It was a quiet, crooked little home, settled among yellowed trees that whispered more than rustled. The realtor had spoken too quickly and never looked me in the eyes. I assumed the price was low because of the location or the cracked foundation or the way the walls occasionally wept cold from unseen pores.
By E. hasan8 months ago in Fiction
Mind Zero
In the neon-black night of New Avalon, no one was truly alone. The Grid made sure of it. Thoughts streamed, schedules aligned, even dreams were synchronized across nodes. Every mind—tagged, tracked, tidied.
By F. M. Rayaan8 months ago in Fiction
Glasvegas
To get lost in this black and white city under Van Gogh's spiral skies is an adventure like no other. What will we find in these dark streets? Will it be love or salvation, or a hooded mysterious creature with too many eyes and a hook for a hand?
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 8 months ago in Fiction
The Weight of Maybe
There is a girl who sees too much. Not in the way oracles usually do—those proud-eyed prophets who stand tall on mountaintops, declaring the future like thunder. No, Syla’s curse is quieter. More suffocating.
By F. M. Rayaan8 months ago in Fiction
Pilgrim’s Price
She came with dust on her boots and a prayer on her lips. The town was too quiet. Shops still had fruit in their baskets—wrinkled, dry. Horses stood frozen like statues. Children curled on porches as if caught mid-laughter. But no one breathed. No one blinked.
By F. M. Rayaan8 months ago in Fiction
Unfollowed: The Fall of Ava Rose
Ava Rose had it all—millions of followers, brand deals with the biggest names in fashion and skincare, and a beachfront apartment that made her the envy of every influencer under 30. Her fans adored her for her relatability, style, and candid "no-filter" attitude. But on a sunny Thursday morning, all of that came crashing down in a 38-second video that spread faster than wildfire.
By ABDU LLAH8 months ago in Fiction
The Silent Choir
They called him the Mute Miracle. No one remembered his name—only his presence. A calm figure who walked through broken villages with a satchel of herbs and a soul full of song. But no one had ever heard his voice. Only a low hum, like a lullaby echoing from another world. When he placed his hands on wounds, the pain lessened. When he closed his eyes, the restless slept.
By F. M. Rayaan8 months ago in Fiction