Psychological

So the World Ended... Now What? A Beginner’s Guide to Apocalyptic Survival. AI-Generated.
Let’s be honest. If you’re reading this, you’ve probably noticed things have gone sideways. Maybe it was a virus, a grid-down scenario, or something a little less... scientific. The world we knew is on pause, and the new world is chaotic, dangerous, and confusing.
By bob singh19 days ago in Fiction
The Letters In His Desk - pt. 3. Content Warning.
First period moves the way most mornings at school do—steady, predictable, almost boring in a way that usually feels comforting. Personal Finance with Mr. Frank is all about numbers that make sense and plans that stretch cleanly into the future. He writes amortization formulas across the board in tidy columns, sleeves rolled to his forearms, explaining interest accrual like it’s a story with a guaranteed ending. Marcus sits one row behind Ethan, angled just enough to keep him in view without making it obvious. He doesn’t talk. He doesn’t joke. He just stays there, solid and quiet. Ethan answers when called on, voice even, expression controlled. If there’s pressure building behind his eyes, it doesn’t show. His notes are neat. His posture is straight. Once, Marcus taps his sneaker lightly against the back of Ethan’s chair. A small check-in. Ethan taps back without turning around. I’m good. It’s the kind of silent conversation they’ve perfected.
By Ria19 days ago in Fiction
The Letters In His Desk - pt. 2. Content Warning.
Ethan stands at the bathroom mirror already dressed in dark jeans and a fitted gray pullover, the collar slightly uneven where he pulled it on too quickly and never fixed it. The fluorescent light above the sink hums softly, washing the small bathroom in a pale glare that makes everything look sharper and a little more tired than it really is. He tilts his chin up and drags the razor carefully along the uneven line of hair at the base of his neck, moving slowly and deliberately as if precision alone will keep him from messing it up. A thin streak of shaving cream clings just beneath his jaw, and he leans closer to the glass, narrowing his eyes at his reflection. He presses a little too hard and feels the faint sting of it, quickly adjusting his grip with a quiet breath through his nose. The scrape of the blade against his skin sounds louder in the morning stillness, and he focuses on that instead of the thoughts trying to crowd in.
By Ria19 days ago in Fiction
Guardian Angel
The world spun, as if in a fishbowl; the clouds raced across vast cerulean waves. A man’s striped shirt warped into a hotel towel, stretched with sweat seeping through the fibers. His crown receded into the sky, flying white follicles that resembled a seagull’s wing. The sun rose beneath, overtaking the aberrant trees: pines and conifers, oaks and mulberries, sprouting from her eyelids.
By Thomas Bryant19 days ago in Fiction
Framed
"Girl, I know you’re a little extra sometimes, but when did you get this done?" Nara asked, walking into the kitchen where I was elbow-deep in a cardboard box, looking for some cutlery.
By Cristal S.19 days ago in Fiction
“The Library of Unlived Lives”
There is a library most people never hear of, hidden between shifting streets and alleyways that seem to appear only when you need them. They say it contains every book ever written about lives that could have been—the ones you never lived, the choices you never made, the paths you turned away from. Few have seen it and returned unchanged. I found it by accident, or perhaps by design.
By Waqid Ali 20 days ago in Fiction
If only we'd listened between the lines. Content Warning.
[August 5, 2046] Tomorrow is my first day at the new school. Ma is crying as they drop me off at my dormitory with my trunk. I know I'll never see them again after this, but it's what happens to every girl my age. Maybe the papers in the parcel will explain why she's so upset?
By Chrissy MKM20 days ago in Fiction
Failsafe: W.O.L.F
The atmosphere of Kepler-442c had turned against them on Day 0. It wasn’t dramatic. No firestorms. No lightning. Just numbers.
By Christina Nelson 20 days ago in Fiction
Vexed at the Airport
“Excuse me.” I was trying so hard to be polite, but the airport was so crowded this morning and people were just annoying me. Everyone seemed to be roaming, a little lost but still in a hurry.
By Barbara Gode Wiles20 days ago in Fiction
Finding My Familiar ...
Soul's heart beats flicker across the dappled white moonlight. Etches of a familiar in the fog of time, reverberate across the vast, expansive earth. My hands are scratched and brown, streaked with the marks of dirt I have dug with my thin, exhausted fingers.
By Susan L. Marshall21 days ago in Fiction
The House Of Quiet Evenings
The light always entered the hallway in the same way, though no one could say exactly when it began. Sometimes it seemed early, sometimes late, but the family received it as if they had been waiting for it all afternoon. It wasn't something they talked about. It simply happened, and they adjusted to it without thinking.
By Lydia martinez21 days ago in Fiction
The Man Who Returned Lost Time
Same bench. Same faded brown coat. Same slow walk, like his knees were negotiating with gravity. At first, I thought he was just another lonely soul feeding pigeons and watching the world move without him.
By Salman Writes21 days ago in Fiction