Stream of Consciousness
Growing Up, or Something Resembling It. Content Warning.
The late-night air of a Seattle summer filled my lungs in between drags of a cigarette, as airplanes flew overhead and the night sky was burdened by city lights. We sat on the swings of an empty schoolyard gently lulling to and fro, staring at each other through quick glances in between quiet conversation. We sat like this for hours, learning the complexities of each other through intimate conversations and telling stories about our childhood, talking about all of the things that make meeting new people when you're twenty years old exciting.
By Lilah Looper6 months ago in Writers
Dream Plateau
Guiding her through a valley by the shores edge, the sandy beach gripping slightly over a spread grassy plain. The area where small flowers of yellow, blues and reds peak up over the blades of soft grass. Her motion easily striding along with me as we climb a small plateau that deepens our view of the ocean below us. I look to her taking in she is here with me at all, as if dreams can be a sort of reality but I never once imagined a dream such as her. Watching as she looks over the world around us, her smile spreading to me as I can’t help to myself. The captivation of her kneeling to the semi bare rock that had a lone daisy thriving in a crack of the stone. Her fingers touching the pedals lightly as if to enjoy it’s presence with her, making me almost invisible. But the suttle gleam peering over this flower, I knew that divinity, that grace. As if that flower reminded her of herself yet I can’t stop admiring her entirety. Walking silently over to her as a breeze catches her hair some, the strains freely dancing with the low sun light presenting a calm smile that will last forever in my memory. Bending down to her side she whispers to me or maybe the flower, “this is magic.” She looks over towards me while I sit across from her, just then her eyes kissing into mine as the setting over the horizon sprays the colors of a days end. Her smile stretching over her cheeks as my heart seems to clench, her eyes never leaving me as the tips of her fingers graze gently over my chin. Her eyes dip as her sigh releases through her partly opened lips. 'Is this where I take my chance?' Her hand falling slowly to her side from where it was once touched onto me. My arm out stretches, my sudden urge to grab her hand into mine. Looking at her desperately as a shocked exterior gleams over her face. The lump in my throat being gulped down as my head bows some. "I... I love you...." My chest heats, my heart throbbing as if it can not get enough blood to my body. As she smirks up at me. With a smirk such as that reaching deep into me, I close my eyes for a second while a tender push is felt into my lips. Oh how it feels to be struck by thousands of electric pulses in every nerve of my body. I open a eye to see its her lips on mine. I lose my breath in that second but find the freedom of my soul to engage in this moment. My palm raises to press into her cheek, my fingertips gliding over. As I fall into her.. We both seem to smile while I take in all of her, the depths of which I crave to remain. Our kiss halts as our eyes now shyly meet. I seem to not want to look away cause if I do, will any of this cease to exist or will this be a moment that lasts along with the whimsical breeze pushing between us. My hand over her cheek trembles some while hers places over mine, the tips of her fingers loosely gripping my hand. When her head tilted into my touch, I felt as if it were a privilege because she’s what makes my heart flutter.
By Magnar Arne6 months ago in Writers
The Quiet Exit
The Quiet Exit Emma had never been one for grand gestures. She believed that sometimes, the loudest disappearances were the quietest. She learned this lesson slowly, step by step, as the world around her grew heavier with expectations and eyes that wanted more than she could give.
By waseem khan6 months ago in Writers
The Whispers in Room 313
The Whispers in Room 313 By Octavia Birthfield The first time Kayla heard the whisper, she thought it was the wind. She had just checked into the Willowridge Inn, a crumbling, nearly forgotten hotel tucked away in a small town off the interstate. Her car had broken down, and it was the only place with vacancy.
By Taviii🇨🇦♐️6 months ago in Writers
Pitching ideas is insulting to many seasoned writers. Top Story - July 2025.
Pitch has many definitions The word "Pitch" has several definitions, which include. To throw a ball for a batter to try to hit. The quality of a sound governed by the rate of vibrations producing it; the degree of highness or lowness of a tone. The black sticky substance used to patch a roof The steepness of a roof, is often called the pitch Pitch black or black as pitch describes the darkness of night without any light comparing it to the substance used on a roof. A form of words used when trying to persuade someone to buy or accept something.
By Cheryl E Preston6 months ago in Writers
The Echo Returns
Author's Note: This story isn’t just hers. It belongs to every soul who loved deeply, gave sincerely, and still ended up lost in silence. It’s the echo of hopes that were nurtured yet never bloomed. It’s the quiet ache of those who did everything right— but still wonder, where did I go wrong?
By Saffron Realm6 months ago in Writers
