Psychological
Just a Taste Part 18. Content Warning.
Ch 18: Fugitive Dylan December 23rd, 2024- Woodside Motel- 10:02 AM Two days passed in a flash. Christmas is on the horizon; I had repaired my radio, and Isabella and I were still hiding out at the motel. Comfortably, in fact.
By Rain Dayzeabout a month ago in Fiction
The Last Tag-along
You were warned to stay home and told not to follow Ryan when he left. He said he was going somewhere a little sister shouldn’t tag along, so you should just help Mom with some baking and catch a movie on HBO tonight. It hurt your feelings to hear him say this, because normally he took you everywhere.
By Mother Combsabout a month ago in Fiction
Presumption of a Bold Girl
Think of the 1960s, a time of racial tension and riots in the streets. Your school has lockdowns with police stationed at the doors. You see the Disciples motorcycle gang roll up outside the school. You know they are a feared biker gang of black riders, and that they came from Chicago to see what’s up in your little town. Your small town is five miles up the road from the State Penitentiary, where you assume some of their buddies currently reside. You watch as they slowly circle the high school on their bikes, just observing. You wonder if they are silently daring the police to come at them - to cross the line. Imagine your fear of them as an impressionable high schooler - you don’t know violence except in movies like Easy Rider, Hells Angels on Wheels , and The Born Losers .
By Andrea Corwin about a month ago in Fiction
The Night Collector of Overdue Library Books and Et ceteras.
Do you have overdue books, DVD's, or any other borrowed things which you have either forgotten, or never bothered to return to the library. Then you alone will be responsible for what happens when he comes to collect.
By Novel Allenabout a month ago in Fiction
No Man's Land. Top Story - October 2026.
You will enter no man's land. A siren call from a foreign nation will beckon to you. But you will fear it. Neptunian escapism will try to comfort you, all to no avail. "I'm scared about what will happen to me after you die," you will tell your friend.
By ANTICHRIST SUPERSTARabout a month ago in Fiction
Lost Along The Way
You wake dazed and confused. The movie you’ve been watching has ended and the words “ Continue Watching?” blink in the darkness. You’ve woken from a deep nap on the sofa. Your neck is bent funny and there are pressure marks on your cheek.
By Elizabeth Butlerabout a month ago in Fiction
The Pumpkin Patch
Who remembers going to a pumpkin patch to find a great pumpkin? Not the one Linus is hoping for. This pumpkin patch is one place of many stories of memories of fun and family. One would get in the car, and it seems for miles but really is not that far. We hopped out of the car and just started running for we knew that sometimes there would be treats hidden around these pumpkins just like those Easter egg hunts in the Spring, but at times the farmer would only have selected few and just settle for the perfect pumpkin.
By Mark Graham2 months ago in Fiction
You Shouldn't Be Here
You tell yourself you’re only looking for quiet. The dinner party is too loud, too bright, too full of people who seem to know exactly where to stand and how to laugh. You’ve been drifting from room to room like a misplaced coat, never quite settling. So, when you slip down the hallway and try a door that looks unassuming—plain white paint, a brass knob worn dull—you tell yourself it’s harmless.
By Christina Pozzie2 months ago in Fiction
The Whole World is Watching. Top Story - October 2026.
There you are. Yes, you with your Converse that never go out of style. Your hair that falls like a wedding veil you never got to wear around your face, shielding innocence that never existed. The blue light penetrates your glasses, as if your eyes are revealing a relationship with modern technology that should remain private. You sit, listening to the wheezing sounds your dad makes. A medically induced coma is what the doctor called it when he explained the situation to you, along with the expensive details of the procedures he would need to save his life.
By L.M. Marlin2 months ago in Fiction
The Place That Remembers
Every threshold keeps the shape of the hand that opened it. "For years afterward, you told yourself memory had embellished her. Then you told yourself age had softened the impossible into metaphor. Later still, you stopped explaining her at all."
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales2 months ago in Fiction
