Psychological
Truths Dared
“Are we really gonna do this?” Donna’s camera was finally on, and everyone could see that she was still finishing up her lunch in her kitchen. David had decided that he missed his friends too much not to continue with his old habits; their old habits (he did not forget that). Both Sally and Mark were ready – appropriate since they were married – but in separate cities. David did not bother to try and get in touch with Lisa. That was over, right? Could he…?
By Kendall Defoe about a year ago in Fiction
Rest Area. Content Warning.
Landry preferred driving at night. Less cars on the road, and the drivers of the ones that were had an understanding. She crumpled her burger wrapper and tossed it toward the windshield. Another car calmly passed her on the left.
By Cassidy Barkerabout a year ago in Fiction
City of Death. Top Story - August 2025.
A stout conversation on life prompted Geraldine Snow’s bout with necromancy. This included recent dealings with amnesia, anemia and a thick, resolve to live. If only she could muster up enough strength to break out of here, then the real fun could begin.
By K.H. Obergfollabout a year ago in Fiction
The Outer Perimeter Society
I wasn’t planning on writing much of anything this week, maybe not even this month but I got wildly intrigued about the idea of completing another challenge and have always wanted to try one of these for myself—so be kind—as this is my first and I am not sure I did this exactly right. Today’s story is more of an inspiration from something a bit spooky and a lot less magic. I was feeling something in the vein of macabre for summer so I decided upon the “All Night Long” challenge—the guise of which intrigues me. A story that spans the whole night, without using the words night, light, dark, day. It’s a mystery, what will happen next, but I am excited to see where this story takes me, and you, the reader. I started with the title— "The Outer Perimeter Society” joyless, nefarious sorts of folk who inhabit the dusky, gloomy, shade ridden edge of our world. The ones who hunt in our obscure radiance and wait on baited breath for those of us who can’t help ourselves, and let curiosity win, even if for just a little bit, but what are they hiding, what are their secrets? Some of this is likely also inspired by my most recent movie outing to see: Weapons—which was a small treat. I love the doors it unlocked in the mind but wish it would have been slightly more realistic in regards to the missing persons, that would have been exquisite (imho). But for now, let’s see what happens with this story—hope you enjoy!!!
By K.H. Obergfollabout a year ago in Fiction
He kept the light on . Content Warning.
He passed his finger along a jagged edge of paper, but a door flung open, a pervasive memory of the past instead of a paper cut. The scene played as if it were nurturing. There was no movement. He knew the path the way he knew his mother. He thought his past would play a different song, but it was a race car reversing backwards. The person that changed everything came too close and it might cause a dangerous end to the present.
By Caitlin Charltonabout a year ago in Fiction
The Letter I Never Sent
I found the letter last night, buried beneath a pile of old photographs in the wooden chest at the foot of my bed. The envelope was yellowed with age, the paper inside soft as fabric. My handwriting—shaky, almost unfamiliar—spelled out his name in faded blue ink: Elias. Just the sight of those letters made my chest tighten. I hadn’t seen him in thirteen years, and yet the moment I touched that envelope, the air felt heavy with the past.
By Musawir Shahabout a year ago in Fiction
A Stranger in Every Photograph
A Stranger in Every Photograph I found the photo album on a rainy Sunday afternoon, tucked behind boxes in the attic of my late grandmother’s house. Its leather cover was cracked and worn, the pages yellowed, and the smell of old paper and faint perfume clung to it like a ghost.
By waseem khanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Day the Colors Fled
The Day the Colors Fled It started quietly, as if the city had taken a deep breath and let all color escape. I woke to gray skies and streets stripped of vibrancy. My walls, my clothes, the garden outside—everything was a shade of ash, steel, and stone. Even the sunlight seemed pallid, like paper left too long in the sun. I rubbed my eyes, convinced it was a trick of sleep. But the world outside my window confirmed my fear.
By waseem khanabout a year ago in Fiction
