Psychological
Give. Honorable Mention in The Shape of the Thing Challenge. Content Warning.
The words he said to everyone he approached: "Give me what I have asked for. If you don't, I have friends who will come and we will take everything from you. Not only that, we may take other liberties with you, your family and neighbours. You have a choice. Give me what I want or suffer the consequences, and you don't want to suffer the consequences, do you?Would you like to see what might happen? Here are some properties that my friends have applied their talents to; yours could be the same if you do not give me what I am due"
By Mike Singleton đź’ś Mikeydred about a year ago in Fiction
The Last Sunset: A Tale of Love and Loss
The sun hung low over the horizon, spilling gold and crimson across the quiet seaside town. On the weathered pier, Eleanor stood, her fingers tracing the cracks in the wood as if searching for answers hidden in its grain. She hadn’t expected him to be here. Not today. Not after all the years of silence and absence.
By Kamran Zebabout a year ago in Fiction
The Letter I Was Never Meant to Read
It was a quiet evening when I stumbled upon the letter. The house was unusually still, the kind of silence that presses on your chest and makes you feel like something is about to change. I hadn’t been looking for secrets; I was simply searching for an old notebook in the wooden chest my mother kept locked in her room. But fate has a strange way of revealing truths when we least expect them.
By Nadeem Shah about a year ago in Fiction
Under the Crimson Sky
The crimson sky stretched endlessly above, its fiery glow spilling across the horizon like blood on sand. For most villagers, it was just another sunset, another day slowly slipping into the night. But for Ayaan, the sight of that sky was both a curse and a reminder—a curse of the past he could never completely bury, and a reminder of the fight he could no longer run away from.
By Nadeem Shah about a year ago in Fiction
The Forest of the Forgotten
The sun felt wrong on Ellie's skin, but wrong in a way that made her chest ache with something she couldn't name. It was harsher than Nova's gentle light, more direct, but there was something underneath that recognition that made her breath catch.
By Parsley Rose about a year ago in Fiction
The Invisible Dialogist. Honorable Mention in The Shape of the Thing Challenge.
She likes her coffee black. Strong. Bitter. She has always known what identifies a woman as a “real woman”: her hands, her shoes, and, in her case, the way she drinks her coffee.
By Nina Domrichevaabout a year ago in Fiction
Spines. Content Warning.
Winnie leaned toward the mirror in her narrow bathroom, fastening the tag with her full name, Winslow Cooper, the letters too solemn for the face that studied them back. She pressed her collar flat, gathering her cardigan. Beyond the window the street waited, the hour of buses, bakery vans, stirrings of light. She swung her bag over her shoulder, locked the door, and stepped into the cold. The air nipped her cheeks and hurried her steps toward the library.
By Fatal Serendipityabout a year ago in Fiction
