Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Psyche.
Her Name Is Red
I sat; elbows pressed against the bar letting my eyes trace the rim of my glass. Peering up through my unkempt hair I noticed my reflection in the mirror behind the empty liquor shelves. The mirror was lined with faded green tile, chipped at the edges, aging against the mid-Florida heat. It was late afternoon in this hopeless hotel bar.
By Eljay Feuerman5 years ago in Psyche
The Hungry Void of Me
The day is cold. The sun is gleaming and the air is mellow around me, yet this day falls so cold. Perhaps it is me that is cold. I watch the dusty air caper around in the stream of sunlight that spills through the blinds. I find that I am aimlessly disconnected from everything. Lost stumbling somewhere far within myself. I am gasping for sweet air as I drift through the void of my mind that eats my dreams and lingers around my body like some putrid parasite. I am merely a shell of who I could be, a vessel for the indistinct emptiness that consumes my body. Emptiness becomes me. My eyes borrowed by my thoughts, like a prisoner they succumb to such blind power. My poor simple bones fall victim to the complex knot of thoughts that consumes me so. My limited perception of this life creates the perfect hellscape of such a blatant existence.
By Lilly Ashley5 years ago in Psyche
Fighting The Lightning
It’s overwhelming, and like nothing you’ve ever felt before when the lightning strikes. You feel all at once light and heavy, light you’re soaring in the sky and being crushed by the deepest depths. There’s a numbness that goes with it. It finds its way to the back of your neck and then radiates down. Your world starts to turn, and you think it’s because of the feeling at your neck but it’s not, by this point you’re already starting to fall. The colours bleed into each other until finally your world goes black.
By obvicious15 years ago in Psyche
Counting Staples
The faces are laughing at me from the print on the living room sofa. Not real faces, of course. Just the ugly, used floral print picked up off the side of the road. If you zone out on the design, like I often do, you’ll begin to see the shapes take on the form of whimsical creatures that one might find in Alice’s wonderland. They laugh at me as I stare blankly, wide-eyed.
By Hayley Matto5 years ago in Psyche
Anybody out there?!
hello? Hello? Is anybody out there?! That is a question I ask myself a lot specially since the few recent years. It has been a few hard years for me and honestly I did not think it could get any worse But it did. And I honestly don’t know how I’ve managed with everything but I believe that I must be very strong or goddamnned crazy to be able to just keep at this. No, actually in true honesty I know for certain I have some angels backing me up and guiding me and watching over me. Despite this feeling of complete and utter despair and loneliness I know I’m actually not alone.
By Lori Estrada5 years ago in Psyche
Mr. Malpractice
My name is Daisy. I am a recovering heroin addict. I say recovering because, although it's been 7 years since I last stuck a needle in my arm, I don't think I'll ever live an entire day without thinking about the way it felt. Dreaming about that warmth spreading throughout my bloodstream and craving the way that for just a moment, everything went quiet.
By Sydney Severo5 years ago in Psyche
In black and white
“Starting a new chapter…” at least that’s what he thought. It had been almost eight years of non-stop distractions. Roman didn’t want to admit it, but he’d spent most of his twenties constantly staring down at his phone, looking at the clock and pacing back and forth. He’d barely seen the days fly by and here he was, turning thirty in a few days. He couldn’t see a clear path to sorting out his life and the sun had long since set on his tattered shoes. He realized the line between having things under control and completely losing it got blurry and yet he couldn’t seem to make it stop.
By Jessica Bertrand5 years ago in Psyche
