Stream of Consciousness
The Outhouse
Would you use this outhouse? It seems to be in good shape as these buildings go, but looking around what else could be using this building as the season shows? Dare to go and check. You never can tell what one may find in such an establishment as this one may look like.
By Mark Graham9 months ago in Fiction
After The Stars Fell By Hridya Sharma
I often wondered what love is. Is it truly the warm, fuzzy emotions that ooze out of true mirth of care and adore, or is it a product of prevalent capitalism that exists within our world? That makes it easy for the consumeristic and hyperagile construct to sell products to the humans as a marketing tactic, to slip in through the psyche of innocent minds, to create a buzz, to find their weaklings and exploit them for company profits and expansions. I still find myself wondering what love is, pondering over that thought. I searched on Chatgpt What do you think love is, What does love truly mean? Is there any premise in the age-old tales of true eternal love, or are they just some flipping pages of history that are known to mankind through the legends of time, through the sands of ripple effects that last through time? Does happily ever after truly exist? I scrambledly typed and asked the language model, aka AI genius.
By Hridya Sharma9 months ago in Fiction
The Teacher's Desk
Who remembers being called up to the teacher's desk? The desk was usually covered up with all kinds of papers that were done at one time or another. You wonder why you were called, and notice a drawer was open. Do you peek? A desk of secrets and questions and answers to seek.
By Mark Graham9 months ago in Fiction
The Student Desk
Do you remember sitting in a desk something like this one? Placing your head down and seeing all the doodles that other students wrote makes one think and then scratch their own message to pass along to other new students who will be sitting in this same seat maybe one day. Good memory.
By Mark Graham9 months ago in Fiction
Beneath the Tree That Watched Us
The Tree on the Hill On the edge of a quiet village named Kalwara, stood a tall, old peepal tree, alone on a small hill. Its branches were wide, its bark dark and cracked like an ancient face, and its leaves sang with the wind. The villagers called it “The Watching Tree”, because no matter where you stood on the hill, it felt like the tree was looking right at you.
By Muhammad Hayat9 months ago in Fiction
"The Chronicles of a Sarcastic Girl Who Just Wanted Chicken Soup and Clarity”
It’s not 3AM but she’s writing again. She just watched a tutorial on Python indentations and zoned out 13 times in 11 minutes. A lot is going through her head, but she can’t unravel anything because her brain keeps circling back to one temptation — Kilishi. Yes, Nigeria’s famous spicy dried meat. The kind of spicy that slaps you out of depression and says, “Oya now, stand up!”
By That_Uninterested_Engineering_Student9 months ago in Fiction
A Cafeteria
Now my school did not have an outside cafeteria, but we did have an area if we wanted to go out just for some fresh air. School cafeterias places of so-called mystery meat and other culinary somewhat disasters in the name of healthy, nutritious eating. No wonder I was mainly a brown-bag person.
By Mark Graham9 months ago in Fiction
The Bone Collector’s Daughter – II: Whispers from the Crypt. Content Warning.
Part 1: The Bone Collector’s Daughter – I: The Inheritance of Shadows III: Whispers from the Crypt The days bled together after the prince’s offer. Vera wandered Blackthorn Hall like a ghost herself, her fingers trailing over the relics of her father’s obsession. The skulls seemed to watch her now, their hollow gazes heavy with secrets.
By The Lost Books - "Libri Perditi"9 months ago in Fiction
