Psychological
Even in Dreams. Runner-Up in The Shape of the Thing Challenge.
Despite living so close to an airport, we never stopped and truly appreciated the sight of the different passenger flights soaring into the sky. I remember vividly lying one day beside you, recently, watching the vapour trails as another steel bird left for adventures in faraway places.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Fiction
Invisible Strings
The bell rang as the city made way for a teeming night. Dark and pale clouds blended until they were quiescent. Within this hour, people closed in next to each other, as their phones lit up to something that was afloat on the rippled river.
By Caitlin Charltonabout a year ago in Fiction
The Cog-Boy of Aethel. AI-Generated.
The Alchemical Academy rose from Aethel's academic district like a Gothic cathedral made of metal and glass. Spires twisted skyward, crowned with aether-collectors that fed the building's vast experimental laboratories. Students in brass-buttoned coats hurried across courtyards where fountains danced with liquid mercury and crystalline trees grew in perfect geometric spirals.
By Shane D. Spearabout a year ago in Fiction
The Shadow Painter
The Shadow Painter The first time Elara discovered her gift, she was only nine years old. She had been sitting cross-legged in her grandmother’s attic, where dust floated in beams of late-afternoon light and the smell of turpentine lingered. Her grandmother, once a painter of modest renown, had left behind dozens of cracked canvases and jars of half-dried paint. Most children would have found the place eerie, but to Elara, it was a sanctuary.
By Numan writesabout a year ago in Fiction
Elion
There was once a man named Arin. He was the kind of person everyone admired—always ready to listen, always ready to help, always putting others before himself. If a friend was sad, he stayed up all night talking with them. If a neighbor was in need, he gave without hesitation. To the world, he was a source of warmth.
By silent spokeabout a year ago in Fiction
Much Too Young - Much Too Old
Studying my words from long ago, in the yellowed pages of my manifesto, when my mind was more alive than it is today. "Sat at my desk to create legacy. Seeking fame and respect. An empire. From behind my desk in my humble log cabin, the void between inspiration and desolation breached. With the right words in the right sequence, one could tap the creative depths of my mind and bring to fruition something remarkable-unforgettable.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Fiction
Aetheria's Song
Elara's fingers danced across the ebony and ivory keys, a tempest of sound filling the small apartment. The melody was Tchaikovsky, passionate and soaring, mirroring the fervor in her own heart. In a week, she would be boarding a plane to Vienna, a scholarship to the prestigious Royal Conservatory clutched in her hand, a dream she had pursued with every fiber of her being since she was a child. The world of classical music, of grand concert halls and rapt audiences, was finally within her grasp.
By Mehrdad Rajabiabout a year ago in Fiction
Guardians And Angels | Chapter Five | Part 20
One My father stood at my bedroom door buzzing Hard as Fuck. That Friday night, when he decided to walk into my bedroom, I was still at the dance with mirror ball lights spinning across my freckles not knowing back home the robot cicadas from the fucking Jungle were screaming at him again.
By Christopher Dubbsabout a year ago in Fiction
The Mirror That Remembers
The Mirror That Remembers The bell above the thrift store door jingled softly as Lena stepped inside. Dust motes swirled in the golden light from the afternoon sun, and the air smelled faintly of old paper, cedar wood, and forgotten time. She wasn’t looking for anything in particular—just a distraction from the silence of her empty apartment.
By Numan writesabout a year ago in Fiction
