Psychological
Voices (Part Two)
You can read Voices Part One here: Click Here ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ I woke up at sundown, a black cat mysteriously walking under ladders. When I came across the other side, I tiptoed up on 13 mirrors, each one broke and shattered into a thousand shiny pieces. I was struggling, twisting and turning in my bed. Someone was trying to suffocate me. The lights went dark, and an umbrella opened above me. I heard a siren far away. It became louder and louder as if it were right here next to me. It was so close. It shook and rattled me, startled me out of my sleep.
Rick Henry ChristopherPublished about 9 hours ago in FictionEyes
Officer Blake's eyes narrowed as he stared at the young man he was questioning, a look of disbelief already etched on his face. Danny Mortan's tale was so outlandish that it seemed impossible to be true. Uncertain if he had heard correctly, he asked Danny to repeat himself.
Mother CombsPublished about 10 hours ago in FictionStarlight Manor
“First things first,” the white-haired boy commands over his shoulder. His voice is imperious as always, firm with a jurisdiction well beyond his mere fourteen years. “Don’t ask questions.”
angela hepworthPublished about 11 hours ago in FictionAdam and Eve 2.0
After Adam and Eve were expelled from Eden, they quickly realized they were connected in ways they couldn't even imagine. "I have the key to your Evelette!" Adam said proudly, using his nickname for Eve's vagina. "Without me, you won't be able to have kids and reproduce."
Lana V LynxPublished about 15 hours ago in FictionThe Secret Garden of Whispers
In the heart of a bustling city, where skyscrapers reached for the clouds and the streets hummed with the rhythm of life, there stood an ordinary-looking building with an extraordinary secret – the Whispering Garden.
Mohamed AliPublished about 16 hours ago in FictionBring Them Home Now
A Drabble is a story of exactly 100 words. No more, no less. They scream, “Bring Them Home Now!” I agree. Bring them all home. Those behinds bars unjustly. Those buried under the rubble. Those who can’t even haunt their own streets as the street is gone. Dust. Ashes.
Oneg In The ArcticPublished about 19 hours ago in FictionThe Ugliest Building
Mark Twain called the building I work in, “The ugliest building in America.” I agree. The Dwight D. Eisenhower Executive Office Building isn’t the largest in Washington, D.C., but its imposing façade makes it feel like it is. I work for the Office of E-Government and Information Technology. I have a satellite office in the bowels of this monstrosity. Working in this building gives us quick access to both the President and Vice-President because they also have offices here. This access may be why I’m in this situation, or maybe it’s the project I’m assigned to, or both.
Mark GagnonPublished a day ago in FictionRiver of Oblivion
A rivulet talked of next stage where no one realizes if it is happening at night or early hours of the day was the River of Oblivion; the place where reason rules over fear. Those who sought its depth claimed to always come out covered in tar-like substances that stick on the bodies of souls.
Strahinja MiloševićPublished a day ago in FictionThe Fragments Eternity Story.
In a little town settled between moving slopes and lavish timberland, there carried on with an old narrator named Elias. He was known all through the land for his spellbinding stories that appeared to move audience members to domains past creative minds. Each night, the residents would assemble around the popping fire in the town square, anxiously anticipating Elias' popular narratives.
Kazi MunniPublished a day ago in FictionJust Breath
Tick tock, tock, toc. Tightness. feel; see. Nerves twitch Eye open. Her eyes opened. It wasn’t dark anymore. 'How long have I been laying here she thought.' She put her hands to her face and with her fingertips examined her skin. Her skin felt dry but relatively the same as she remembered it. I can’t image I’ve aged much -she murmured. She looked down. A gown. 'How strange.'
G. A. BoteroPublished a day ago in FictionWhen The Stars Faded
The stars twinkled brightly as I stepped out of my door. The weather was warm, and there were no clouds in the sky. Tonight, I smiled as I breathed in the fresh air that nighttime brought with it.
Carol TownendPublished a day ago in FictionShe loves me
She loved me. When I was small and my wee stayed to the paper. When I was rumpled skin and floppy big paws and big eyes looking up and waiting for her hands to find me, scooping me up and bringing me into her. And we were happy, so happy, so very, very happy. I was so happy to see her and danced my circles so she'd know how much I wanted nothing more than for her to hold me. I'd wrap, wiggle, wiggle and wrap my growing body with my bestest happy dance, slumping and kerplumping into her warm parts just like she liked me to. She was there and I was there, and we were there together, and it was perfect. Oh, how she loved me! We spent all our time together, playing inside, outside, up, down, going round and round. And she petted me and called me good girl when I made poops, and sometimes when I weed in her front yard or the neighbor's, and I was the best girl. For her, I really was! And she scratched me behind my ears, and it was heaven. I aowooo my joy! And she aowoooed hers too.
Christy MunsonPublished 2 days ago in Fiction