Psychological
The Girl in the Blue Dress
We didn’t know her name. Only that she lived in the third-floor flat, two windows across from the church bell that stopped chiming after the second raid. Her mother was quiet, always nodding politely in the stairwell, always carrying something—laundry, a loaf, a child half-asleep on her shoulder. We noticed them in the way we notice wallpaper or lamp posts or the sound of pigeons roosting in the attic. They were part of the backdrop, not the story.
By Paper Lanternabout a year ago in Fiction
🌸 Title: The Letter That Changed Everything . AI-Generated.
The Story: Ali had always known that the storeroom in his house was full of old things nobody cared about anymore. It was dark, dusty, and smelled of memories long forgotten. One quiet Sunday afternoon, when the summer sun made the rest of the house too hot to sit in, Ali decided to finally clean that room. He thought it would be boring work, but he never imagined it would change the way he saw love, family, and his own future.
By Saeedullah Shanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Ghost Who Fell in Love with a Living Girl . AI-Generated.
The moon hung full over the decaying silhouette of Rosewood Manor. Inside, the halls groaned with wind and memory—but Silas, the ghost of the house, moved quietly through them like breath in winter air. He had died more than a century ago, and the loneliness had long since settled into him like dust on forgotten books.
By Adrian-Razvan Ispasabout a year ago in Fiction
Gravity of the Forgotten
Gravity of the Forgotten Day 347. The station creaks. It’s not supposed to. The engineers back on Earth—or whatever’s left of Earth—would tell you that pressure-sealed bulkheads don’t creak. But when you’ve been alone for almost a year, orbiting the corpse of a forgotten colony star, everything begins to sound like voices.
By Hammad younasabout a year ago in Fiction
This is Culturally Inappropriate
In a drawing room in Wilmington, Delaware, with lights brought down low, a man the color of cherrywood sat in a chair with his legs crossed. He looked like an aristocrat and a day laborer, if that was at all possible. Another man who looked like a manila envelope, sat adjacent to him. He had the presence of a warden and a shady record company executive. He scribbled in a digital notepad. He wore a black suit with a white shirt with pinstripes and a tie that looked like the keys on a piano. He wore black and white Brogue Oxford shoes. The other man, Mackford, also wore formal attire. A green cardigan sweater, tan shirt and slacks of camel color and a green tie adorned the man. He wore brown patent leather shoes. He sat with his chin slightly canted.
By Skyler Saundersabout a year ago in Fiction
A Mother's Goodbye Beneath the Olive Tree
The wind whispered through the fields of Amara village, carrying with it the scent of soil, wheat, and a quiet sorrow that lingered in every home touched by war. Mariam stood at the edge of her small wooden porch, her hands rough from years of working the land, her back hunched slightly—not from age, but from burdens carried in silence.
By Intresting Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
