Stream of Consciousness
The cask of Amontillado
The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. You, who know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitively settled. But the very definitiveness with which it was resolved, precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish, but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.
By Mohammad Roman9 months ago in Fiction
When the Sky Burns
The world sat breathless, like a candle in a storm — glowing, trembling, moments from being snuffed out. No one said the word, but everyone felt it: nuclear. It hovered above cities like a ghost in daylight — too real to ignore, too terrifying to name. On the surface, life persisted: people walked their dogs, brewed their morning coffee, scrolled endlessly through headlines and half-truths. But beneath the routine, there was a crackling tension in the air — like dry grass just waiting for a spark.
By Md. Hasibul Hasan9 months ago in Fiction
The Choice of the Soul. Content Warning.
Dr. Lynsey Aldred was the first person to map the soul. Not metaphorically, literally. Through a miracle of quantum neurology and deep-conscious resonance imaging, she traced what she called the Soul's Echo Vector. A measurable wave signature that escapes the brain at the moment of death. It was no more than a flicker at first, a blip across the screens. But, Lynsey followed it through data, repetition, pattern, and noise.
By Daniel Millington9 months ago in Fiction
Little House in the Woods
In reading the old journal that was on the shelf you start to look around. The journal is quite descriptive, and the first page describes the big rocks in the front yard. They are the tombstones of the couple that lived here. They were not young, but not old either. Who were they?
By Mark Graham9 months ago in Fiction
A Little Cabin
What a cute little house. I wonder who lives there. Let's knock on the door. The door creaks open as I knock. All it is, is one room with an old table and some shelves. There's a book on the shelf. I pick it up and begin to read. It's a journal of sorts.
By Mark Graham9 months ago in Fiction
Hobbitland
Welcome to Hobbitland! This is the land of Bilbo and Frodo Baggins what they call The Shire. Would you like to live in such a magical and beautiful place such as this? There are various skills that one must have; like the love of food and drink and helping others; the best way.
By Mark Graham9 months ago in Fiction
Flight Into the Sky: A Journey Between Worlds
Flight Into the Sky: A Journey Between Worlds By Ali ________________________________________ What happens when the walls of reality dissolve? A poetic short story exploring a man's metaphysical journey beyond the borders of sleep and time—into a celestial dimension where stars dance and silence sings. A tale of beauty, escape, and the painful return to a broken world. The Story He lay still upon his pillow, not yet asleep, not fully awake. His mind drifted like mist in the dusk, waiting patiently for sleep to take over and carry him into the unconscious. But this night—this one night—was different. Without warning, the walls faded. The ceiling disappeared. The darkness that usually fell with closed eyes did not come. Instead, there was... nothing. And within that nothing, everything was born. He felt no fear. No confusion. Only stillness. A serenity deeper than water, softer than silence. Then—like an arrow loosed from a divine bow—he rose. He soared. Upward, through unseen layers, past limits he never knew existed. And as he ascended, the world below shrank, melted, vanished. In its place: the stars. The planets. A boundless sky that welcomed him not as an intruder, but as one of its own. The stars pulsed with light—changing shapes, shifting colors. They danced, not wildly, but gracefully, in circles and spirals, as if moving to a music only he could hear. Yes, there was music. It filled the space around him, entered his ears without sound, his soul without warning. A celestial symphony—unlike anything on Earth. The planets revolved around him, radiating kindness and warmth. Their surfaces were not cold and lifeless, but alive—glowing, morphing, breathing. They acknowledged him, greeted him. And he, the earthbound dreamer, drifted among them like a star reborn. He lost all sense of time. There was no before. No after. Only now. And then... gently, softly, without resistance—he returned. He found himself back on his bed. The room was the same. The air was heavier. The world had come back. So had its burdens. The peace he had touched now felt like a distant echo, already fading. Around him, the ordinary weight of life began to settle: the gnawing anxieties, the sharp edges of duty, the stray dogs in the alley, the cruelty of man, the violence of greed, the endless race for control. He had returned to a world of competition and conquest—where only the strong survive, and kindness is mistaken for weakness. He opened his eyes fully. He was here. But not the same. He had seen something beyond. Felt a truth no eye had seen, no ear had heard, no heart had fully imagined. He had touched a higher note. And now? He would carry that music within him—quietly, secretly, defiantly. Because no matter how harsh the world becomes... He had flown. And he remembered. "Not all dreams fade. Some become the fire we carry through the cold."
By Ali Sadeek Ahmed9 months ago in Fiction
Ready to Learn
Attention, Class! Are you ready to learn what we all need to know. Have you been in a classroom ready to learn as in this one? Books on top of the desks ready to go. Pencils and paper ready to go as well. Teacher states: "Let's get started Pop Quiz books on floor."
By Mark Graham9 months ago in Fiction
