Excerpt

What Am I Missing?
Day 1 My mission is simple, to learn about humans by becoming one. They’ve got a written history, but I’d rather go in fresh and improvise. I’ve been doing this a long time and consider myself an expert at blending in. Confidence is the key. If you just look like you know what you’re doing, it’s generally accepted.
By Leslie Writesabout 20 hours ago in Fiction
Frank-hearted and happy. Top Story - February 2026.
Four walls. That's all she had to look at, along with a dirt floor and the ceiling. The door had a small window with a little door that could be opened from the outside. But that hadn't happened much in the time she'd been in here.
By Raine Fielder2 days ago in Fiction
Lifetimes . Content Warning.
Anna I sit on my bed and wait for the candlelight in my mama's room to fade away as I continue to replay my decision in my head and I think to myself there is no turning back if I do this I'll lose everything but I'll be free with him. I take a deep breath and throw some clothes in a bag and open my bedroom window, I throw my bag out and follow not far behind it.
By cheyenne 3 days ago in Fiction
Guardian Angels chapter 3
Kalin wandered through the historical section of the library, searching for more than a measly two books on the history of Mountainview University. She scrunched up her nose, already having been chewing on her lip for the last fifteen minutes. “This shouldn’t be this difficult to find.” she muttered crossly.
By Phoenixica243 days ago in Fiction
A VISION OF JUDGMENT
I was awakened by a terrible sound. “Bru-a-a-a!” it roared across the darkness. At first, I did not understand. I thought I was half dreaming. The noise grew louder—shrill, shaking the air, impossible to ignore. “Good Lord!” I muttered. “What an awful racket!” It sounded like some enormous trumpet echoing across the world. I tried to sit up, but something felt strange. Where was I? The sound rose higher and more powerful until suddenly I knew—this was no ordinary noise. “It must be the Last Trump,” I whispered.
By Faisal Khan3 days ago in Fiction
No One Encouraged Me to Lose Weight. They Only Mocked Me for Being Fat. AI-Generated.
No one ever said, “You can do this.” They said, “You’ve gotten so big.” They said it laughing, casually, as if they were commenting on the weather.
By Peter4 days ago in Fiction
When I Was Fat, Even the Air Felt Like Humiliation. AI-Generated.
There was a particular way the air felt when I was fat. It pressed against me. Not physically, not in a way you could measure with instruments. But when I walked into a room, the air thickened, as if it had already formed an opinion before I opened my mouth.
By Peter4 days ago in Fiction
After I Lost the Weight, I Realized Being Fat Wasn’t the Real Problem. AI-Generated.
The first thing I noticed after losing the weight was not the silence in my knees when I climbed the subway stairs, nor the way my reflection narrowed in store windows. It was the way strangers smiled at me.
By Peter4 days ago in Fiction
I Failed to Lose Weight Ten Times. The Eleventh Time, Something Changed. AI-Generated.
The first time I tried to lose weight, I was twenty-six years old and standing under fluorescent lights in a CVS on Lexington Avenue, holding a bottle of appetite suppressant that promised, in cheerful blue letters, Lose up to 10 pounds in one week.
By Peter4 days ago in Fiction
When I Was Fat, the World Treated Me Differently. AI-Generated.
The first time I realized the world had changed, no one said anything. It was a Tuesday morning in October. The air in Manhattan had just turned sharp enough to feel honest. I was standing in line at a coffee shop on 23rd Street, the kind with exposed brick and quiet music that made people feel more important than they were.
By Peter4 days ago in Fiction
No One Knows What a Fat Man Goes Through Every Morning. AI-Generated.
Every morning, before the alarm rings, Daniel is already awake. Not fully awake. Not in the clean, cinematic way people wake in commercials—stretching, smiling, sunlight brushing their faces like forgiveness. His waking is slow, heavy, and reluctant, like a ship rising through dark water.
By Peter4 days ago in Fiction
The Borrowed Feelings Store
The line at the Borrowed Feelings Store wrapped around the block, but no one seemed bothered. People waited patiently, holding their empty jars, tapping their feet, checking their watches. A woman behind me hummed softly, the kind of tune someone uses to keep their hands warm.
By Lydia martinez5 days ago in Fiction