Psychological

The Worst Summer Ever
Dear Diary, March 13th, 7:30 a.m. Nothing could be worse than having to go to school when Spring Break is just around the corner. All these rumors going around school that we are going to be on eLearning for two weeks because of a global pandemic. I just don’t believe it. Not because I don’t believe that there is a global pandemic, because I do, but because it is just a silly rumor. What is the harm of it? Nothing can keep us from school or our friends. Can it?
By Lea Rueabout 6 hours ago in Fiction
The Debt of The Extraordinary
Thanatos was chained by Sisyphus. A moment of curiosity with a secret aim led to death having no power over humanity. Sisyphus made it so. But this story is what the myth gets wrong.
By Caitlin Charltonabout 11 hours ago in Fiction
Spring Sacrifice
The woods of Hollow Glen were quiet, save for the crunch of dead leaves underfoot. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the last rays of sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting long, eerie shadows. The group of teenagers—Ellie, Jake, Sarah, and Ryan—had ventured there on a dare. Rumors of strange happenings in the forest around Easter had been passed down for years, but none of them believed in ghost stories.
By V-Ink Storiesabout 13 hours ago in Fiction
Eggshells
Margaret Whitlock was known as the best artist in the sleepy town of Greystone. Her specialty was Easter egg sculptures—delicate, intricate creations painted with painstaking detail. Each egg was a marvel, depicting pastoral scenes, mythical creatures, and swirling patterns so fine they seemed almost alive. Every Easter, people from all over flocked to her gallery to admire and buy her work.
By V-Ink Storiesabout 13 hours ago in Fiction
Trenches
I crushed my smoke out on the pavement outside the apartment complex before rubbing my eyes deeply and hauling myself off the curb and onto my feet. Two days in a row now I had shown up at Joeys, 7:30 AM so we could walk over to Sal’s shop and start our shift by 8:00. He was normally waiting for me, bright eyed and ready to go, guy loved working on cars all day while I just did it to pay for rent and cigarettes. It’s not the worst job I’ve ever had, but the jeep with two broken cv axels and a cracked transfer case was going to take me most of the day, and I’ve never liked an all-day project.
By Brierabout 20 hours ago in Fiction
Long Term Fallout
My wife opened one of the special cans, so I knew it must be some sort of occasion. Anniversary? Holiday? Which one, I don’t know. I don’t keep track of those things anymore. It’s heavenly, really. I don’t have the daily grind, we don’t have to freak out about the bills, and I can spend quality time with the family, all day, every day.
By Meredith Harmonabout 20 hours ago in Fiction
𝐜υ𝐫เ𝑜𝓈ιţ𝕪 . Content Warning.
“Do You Know How Dying Feels?” She asked it the way someone asks about the weather. The room didn’t answer.
By Komala day ago in Fiction
The Silence
Danny used to feel it like weight. Not heavy, but solid, like someone standing behind him in a dark room, not threatening, just present, close enough that if he turned around fast enough he might catch a glimpse. The voice had never been audible. It was clearer than that. It landed inside him fully formed, without effort. Not imagination. Not guessing. Words that carried authority. Stay in faith. I will bring it to pass. Do you trust Me. Those moments had come when life was tight, when invoices went unpaid, when the repair shop sat quiet for hours longer than it should have, when fear crept in through the cracks at night. The words steadied him, not because they fixed anything instantly, but because they made the chaos feel contained.
By Joey Rainesa day ago in Fiction
Stop Complaining. Content Warning.
As a child, he was beaten and bullied. When he complained to his teachers and parents, he was told to stop moaning and grow up. The bullies were allowed to continue, so eventually he realised he would have to take things into his own hands, and a punch and a bully's broken nose was the action he took.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred a day ago in Fiction
“The Dream That Binds Us”
Every night, at exactly 2:17 AM, the world slips into the same dream. A burning lighthouse towers over a storm-lashed shore. A child’s voice calls out, desperate, echoing through corridors that twist impossibly. A door refuses to open, though something vital waits just beyond it. No one knows why—or at least, no one thinks they do. Except me. And recently, I’ve begun to understand something terrifying: the choices I make during the day ripple through every mind on Earth, shaping the collective nightmare.
By Waqid Ali a day ago in Fiction
The Amber Spires: Part Two
I sat on a small rickety stool outside the wide oak door that led into the dull interior of the taskmasters’ quarters, this was becoming a far too familiar scenario. Two weeks ago, it was a brawl outside an abandoned fuel station over a case of expired cans of vegetables that got overlooked during the last rounds of looting and rioting, and the week before that a precinct six blocks over burnt to the ground. Quelling riots before they ever happened became our duty, weather it was some strategy come down from the brains up top or the fight in the people had just died out none of us knew.
By Brier2 days ago in Fiction
The Wandering Soul
The Wandering Soul Where you go, I will go; where you stay, I will stay. The air in Naomi’s home felt thick with the scent of dried lavender and woodsmoke. Beneath it was another smell, metallic, bitter, that no amount of dried herbs and flowers could hide.
By Claire McAllen2 days ago in Fiction