family
Gravitational Pull and the Moon
"That's an amazingly astute observation. I couldn't have said it better myself." "Yeah, but like — just because I can reach that conclusion logically doesn’t mean I can feel it. You know? Like my emotions are on the other side of the planet from me. No, they're on the fucking moon, and I'm here, and my logic means nothing at all because I can't get myself to feel what I know, and there's no oxygen where my emotions live, and I'm suffocating."
By Mallory Rose8 months ago in Fiction
Steps to losing a child. Content Warning.
Step One: Lose a child. Not what anyone wants to happen and nothing you can do to change it, but you can go through steps to becoming happy again. You can go through steps to loving again. You can go through steps to become a new you because after losing a child you will never be the same person you once were.
By Tabitha Hinkley8 months ago in Fiction
The Day Everyone Stopped Looking at the Sky
On the morning the sky changed, no one noticed. Cars moved through traffic like obedient insects. Coffee cups steamed in bored hands. Notifications buzzed, chimed, and blinked like impatient fireflies demanding attention. Heads were bowed—not in prayer, not in reflection, but in devotion to glowing screens.
By Yasir khan8 months ago in Fiction
Draft with Revisions
My father told me what life was. You go to school. You get a job. You earn money. You retire. My father didn’t offer this as advice, no. He described it as routine, a set way of doing things that had worked before. Years of hardship, repetition, and caution shaped this path. There was no room for discussion. I never questioned it because that seemed pointless, even wasteful, and waste was not allowed in that system.
By Ajan Lori A. 8 months ago in Fiction
Golden Time of Day
When the snow melted, the spring air brought the pungent smell of trees blooming. Their pinks and fuchsias and whites created a panoply of color. Sedgwick Vorman, 39, carried the flowers in the same way to the same grave. His skin looked like chestnuts and his strong cheek bones and hands shot through the neck and the sleeves of his designer jacket. He dusted off the marker and replaced the flowers. He set up a blanket and a beach chair. He then opened the newspaper. News about the worst day in stock market history since the 1929 crash alerted his attention as he turned on the radio.
By Skyler Saunders8 months ago in Fiction
