Stream of Consciousness

Unexpected Connections. Content Warning.
Micaela and I had been together for what felt like a lifetime. We’d fallen in love one sun-drenched summer when we were twenty, our connection as natural as the turning of the tides. I had always been faithful to her, and I believed she was the same not out of obligation, but out of a deep, mutual respect.
By Tales by J.J.about a year ago in Fiction
The Eyes
The night lives like we do. It consumes the day to sustain itself. The darkness spreads itself around the planet and grabs the attention of those who witness it. The darkness isn’t completely dark. Its eyes illuminate the planet in a way no one can describe. The dark skies of the past became something that the majority took as a beautiful gift.
By AJabout a year ago in Fiction
Violet Eyes
The neon glow of Neo-Avalon, a sprawling metropolis where humans and their near-perfect creations, the Synths, coexisted in a tense, often uneasy balance, painted the rain-slicked streets in hues of electric blue and toxic green. Rain dripped from the brim of Dameian Blackwood’s fedora, mirroring the relentless drip of time on his soul.
By Tales by J.J.about a year ago in Fiction
The Estate
The newlyweds arrived as twilight draped the world in its lingering glow, the sky a bruised palette of amber and deep violet. Amara stepped out of the car, her heels sinking slightly into the gravel, the cool air kissing her exposed shoulders and sending a delightful shiver down her spine. The silk of her blouse, a shade of deep crimson, shifted gently against her skin with each breath, the fabric catching the last rays of the setting sun.
By Tales by J.J.about a year ago in Fiction
The Enemy and Vague Memories of the Past
Frank turned the photo over, his fingers trembling. On its backside, a phrase was scribbled in faded ink: “Together we stay, together we die.”
By Maryam Batoolabout a year ago in Fiction
The Merchant of Dreams
Clara slipped on the snow-covered road and reached Uncle Calmon's only shop on a small, narrow street. This was the only shop in the town where anyone could buy a dream. But in exchange for that dream, he had to pay a price to Uncle Calmon. But whoever came to Uncle Calmon's shop once would disappear after that. So there was a rumor in the whole town that all those people had gone to their dream world. It is useless to search for them, they will never be found again.
By Karan w. about a year ago in Fiction
Under the Scorching Sun
The village of Bandhnapur, nestled deep in the parched heart of the Northern peninsula, was a place where life moved slowly, bound by the unyielding grip of tradition. Dust clung to every surface, carried by dry winds that whispered secrets from generations past. The fields stretched endlessly, cracked and barren under the merciless sun, while the thatched huts huddled together like battered soldiers braving a storm.
By Tales by J.J.about a year ago in Fiction
Lights
To walk out and stop for a while, seeing beautiful lights decoring trees and letting you drift like a dreamer into their magical world. To watch them rising and falling like shooting stars along their destined path, sometimes silver like a star or the moon or sometimes all the colours of a celestial rainbow. On an evening walk you can fall like a dreamer into the magical places they welcome you to. Your soul is soothed, sour spirits lifted and your heart given wings. Twinkling in the darkness, bringing brightness into our lives, letting your eyes weave beautiful shapes to bring magic into your life. Walk out and let the lights guide you toward greater happiness.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about a year ago in Fiction
A World Unheard
The chipped Formica table in the greasy spoon diner was Ethan’s world for an hour each Tuesday. He’d sit by the window, the greasy fingerprints a blurry frame around the grey London sky above Camden High Street, a world of sound he could only perceive as vibrations through the glass.
By Tales by J.J.about a year ago in Fiction
Christmas Revelation
In a small town nestled between hills, where the lights of Christmas twinkled in every window, lived a woman named Miriam. She had spent her life searching for something she couldn’t quite name. Her days were filled with the familiar rhythms of work, family, and quiet contemplation, but there was always a space within her that felt unfilled, as though something essential was missing.
By Whimsical Wanderer about a year ago in Fiction
The Enemy and Vague Memories of the Past
Frank, after losing half of his battalion, despite his hopeless mind and body filled with wounds, was still holding firm and steadfast on the battlefield with unparalleled courage. In the sudden attack by the enemy forces the previous night, more than half of Frank’s battalion was killed, and the few remaining soldiers were severely wounded and exhausted.
By Karan w. about a year ago in Fiction
The Group Chat Roast. Top Story - December 2024.
“Guys, I think my phone is freaked out,” Mia announced in the group chat. Ethan replied first. “Didn’t we agree last week you’re not allowed to watch horror movies alone anymore?” “No, I’m serious! My autocorrect has gone rogue,” Mia typed back. Lila joined in. “It’s autocorrect, Mia. It’s been sabotaging humanity since 2007. Get in line.” “NO, listen! I was texting my mom about making chicken for dinner, and it corrected ‘chicken’ to ‘children.’” Ethan: “Honestly? Sounds like your mom should be concerned about YOU, not your phone.” Lila: “‘Hey Mom, let’s roast some children for dinner.’ I love it.” “STOP,” Mia wrote, but Ethan was already on a roll. Ethan: “Imagine your mom replying, ‘Make sure they’re seasoned well.’” Lila: “And Mia’s like, ‘Don’t worry, Mom, I marinated them in teriyaki.’” Mia: “I HATE BOTH OF YOU.”
By Komalabout a year ago in Fiction