Psychological
The Last Train Home
The Last Train Home By Abdul Muhammad The station was nearly empty when I arrived. A single overhead light buzzed and flickered as I stood on the platform, clutching my backpack like it was a lifeline. The last train of the night shrieked in the distance, echoing against the concrete walls.
By Abdul Muhammad about a year ago in Fiction
Holy American Empire
Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Emperor Kane deployed his fleet to blockade Mexico. Two weeks of darkness, of no power. Two weeks of the citizens growing hungry. Two weeks of nothing but silence from Mexico’s neighbor turned enemy.
By Logan M. Snyderabout a year ago in Fiction
The Silence of Oris – Part 1
Eric had always found the ocean comforting—until the night it answered back. He was thirty-two, a marine acoustic technician stationed at the remote research facility of Blackwater Bay. His work involved mapping sonar disturbances, tracking whales, and documenting the sounds rising from the dark Atlantic shelf. It was quiet, lonely work, but after the death of his sister two years ago, loneliness had become a tolerable companion.
By Shehzad Anjumabout a year ago in Fiction
Don't go in the Attic. AI-Generated.
Don't Go in the Attic Chapter One: The Sisters Glenda Brady was the kind of woman who wore diamonds to breakfast and tantrums to dinner. She had never been told “no” without retaliation. Her older sister Carmen, by contrast, preferred the quiet hum of soil and sun. While Glenda chased champagne and silk, Carmen nurtured tomatoes and silence.
By Cindy Gimnesabout a year ago in Fiction
Three knocks for sorrow.
The Alderman family were preparing for bed as winter roared outside. It was a chilled and freezing night, but the house was warm and cozy, the heat cranked up to maximum. Outside the wind moaned and the shutters groaned. The limbs on the trees made loud swishing noises, while the weeping willow mournfully swayed, as if tonight, it was expecting somber news. But then, willow was like that, except when the wind rested and a rare silence embraced the night...then the tree just drooped woefully.
By Novel Allenabout a year ago in Fiction
Echoes of Loss. Top Story - September 2025. Content Warning.
[TW: family conflict, mental illness, suicide] A frantic scratching comes from the front door, echoing through our living room. Claws scrapping against hard wood. A sound I know well– Bilbo, our cat, trying to get in. Bilbo died a year ago.
By Scott Christenson🌴about a year ago in Fiction
Chrysalis. Content Warning.
The faint sound of water dripping pierces the chilled air of the cave, echoing like a clock in its cavernous throat. A grand space, the mouth opens wide, revealing a nearly empty chamber decorated with slick stones and a small pool of water in the center. Complementing the interior of the cave lies a stone slab in the corner, the stage of a makeshift workshop. The workshop held a pieced-together mess.
By Roman Haleabout a year ago in Fiction
