Psychological
Shadow On The Ledge. Content Warning.
‘So, you think life has meaning, yet here you are on the ledge? That doesn't add up.’ ‘Yes, it does. Imagine wanting to die and standing there on the edge, facing death. At first, your whole life flashes before you—each disaster feels overwhelming, piling up. The emotions freeze you. But as you stand there, something changes. Slowly, those disasters lose their weight. Painful memories fade, and suddenly, you start remembering good moments you had overlooked. It’s like your mind finally breaks free from focusing only on the bad and shows you small signs of hope you hadn’t seen before.’
By Moon Desert3 days ago in Fiction
The Man Who Lived the Same Day for 10 Years
The first time it happened, Daniel thought it was a coincidence. He woke up at exactly 6:42 AM. The same grey light pushed through the curtains. The same car alarm beeped outside. The same neighbor slammed their apartment door down the hallway.
By Imran Pisani3 days ago in Fiction
Echoes of Resistance
The streets of Bristol were alive that day, though not with the usual hum of buses and chatter, but with the heavy pulse of voices that demanded to be heard. I had not intended to join the protest—I came to observe, to write, to bear witness—but once I stepped into the swell of people, the energy was impossible to ignore. The banners waved above heads, each one a story, a demand, a prayer. The scent of rain-soaked asphalt mixed with the faint tang of chalk from hastily scrawled messages, leaving the air electric.
By imtiazalam3 days ago in Fiction
The Therapist's Room...Nearly...
The first sign of it was the horse. Not a real horse, although that would have been easier to explain to the neighbours than half the things that happened at my place on any given Tuesday. No, this one was painted on a child’s gumboot, one red gumboot abandoned just outside my office door with a smear of mud across the toe and a tiny plastic dinosaur stuffed in the top like it had packed for the apocalypse.
By Teena Quinn 3 days ago in Fiction
Bridge Over River Mortem . Content Warning.
Overhead, orange-tinged skies, warm my cold heart. It was a good day. Three days in a row we had glorious sunshine, with not a spot of rain. The mood among the people I met on my daily commute was one of optimism and hope.
By Paul Stewart3 days ago in Fiction
The Cat in the Box
The humans have a story about one of us. How do I know this? It's because they talk among themselves while they take care of us each day. Sometimes they'll even listen to things through these little white button-like objects they place in their ears. Occasionally they'll take these out and share with each other things that they find fascinating. One of the things I've overheard them talking about is the cat in the box. They never agree about what happened to this cat, which shows just how carefully they were listening.
By Special Little Whiskers Kitten Sanctuary4 days ago in Fiction
Eurydice's Truth
The poets say he turned back. They forgot that both gods and men had already silenced me. Even now I linger in the world of the dead, millennia after my husband showed how little faith he had in me. The stories say that after his awful death he found peace, that he could walk beside me with no need to look back. But in truth, he remains lost in his songs, and I am still an afterthought, or perhaps merely an ideal for his imagination.
By J.B. Miller4 days ago in Fiction
Mirror Dance
Tables. Lots of them. People. Cheerful and noisy chatter and the rustle of colorful taffeta dresses and suits, the scent of cloying perfumes carrying the atmosphere from day into night; as the amount of consumed alcohol rises, ties loosen, collar buttons come undone, inhibitions and formalities slowly evaporate into sweet submission.
By Gabriella Reti4 days ago in Fiction








