Psychological
The House is on Fire
Jim and Alias: Summer, 1990 Lights were flashing above a sign on a window which advertised a two-for-one offer on DVDs, Jim felt like he had no choice. He had nothing to do with his Friday night so why not treat himself to some new movies until he and his pet fell asleep? It was regular that this man, mid-30s with part-time employment, would have nothing to do with his Friday night apart from this. He hadn't acquired enough money to roam the streets and shop, he hadn't the energy to spend time with friends and he hadn't the location to visit his family who lived miles and miles away.
By Annie Kapur4 months ago in Fiction
Lost in the Grass. Honorable Mention in You Had to Be There.
The old, red barn behind the house was where we went to pretend we had a life of our own. Our parents had flown off somewhere far away, we assured ourselves. So we retreated to the cobwebs and the smell of damp wood.
By Thomas Speer4 months ago in Fiction
Gossip. Content Warning.
What You Heard "What an awful man" "Did you hear how he treated her?" "I heard something, it's no wonder what she did" "Yeah, did you see him, he said that she gave him that black eye and stabbed him, she would never do that. She is such a good quiet soul and is at mass every Sunday. Father Jack says she is a saint because she does so much good and is so kind to people"
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 4 months ago in Fiction
Anchored in the Fluorescent Hum . Top Story - July 2026.
They talk amongst themselves, and when a touch of mood crosses their faces, their whole bodies wake up like bumblebees, restless, reactive, always shifting. They were all sipping from clear plastic cups, with bags by their feet. The staff who knew each other discussed the new Starbucks menu. The others said oi, which softened the room. But not her, behind her thin‑rimmed glasses. I knew her, but not really; stillness holds her together. She is the kind of person whose warmth stays exactly where it is, steady and unmoving, as distant as the wall and as near as the humming fluorescent lights. I notice her the way I notice the unchanged grain of the carpet, the quiet things that stay where they are. She is the only one anchored in her black formal wear, tapping her index finger, not her thumb, against the screen of her phone.
By Caitlin Charlton4 months ago in Fiction
Nostradamus Predictions for 2026.
Nostradamus Predictions for 2026 Nostradamus remains one of the most enduring names in prophecy. Born Michel de Nostredame in sixteenth-century France, he worked as a physician, astrologer, and writer, a man who turned observation into prediction. His book Les Prophéties has travelled through centuries, its cryptic verses sparking argument and awe in equal measure. Some see his work as poetic philosophy, others as proof that the future leaves shadows long before it arrives. Whatever the truth, his name still rises whenever the world trembles.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 4 months ago in Fiction
Free Will. Top Story - July 2026.
The air was as crisp as a dragon fly’s wings and Lancington Lake dutifully reflected all the surrounding lights in the spring air. It gave a yawn of forgiveness for the encroaching darkness, swallowing its memories of so many people who now found it warm enough during the day to swim in its fold. Too cold to swim in now, there were people in all manner of laissez-faire out fittings sitting idly and wistfully at its edges.
By Paul Aaron Domenick4 months ago in Fiction
One More Turn
The steel valve fought Leonid’s trembling fingers. Everything tasted metallic, and instinctively, Leonid knew the shaking in his legs was unaffiliated with the temperature of the now waist-deep waste. The implication sat like graphite in his throat.
By Matthew J. Fromm4 months ago in Fiction
The Dark Car Park
Introduction On our recent trip to Whitby Fiona got lost descending from Whitby Abbey (a former haunt of Dracula), she was perturbed by the steps on the estate block which might have led to a dark car park. Matt and Craig, our hosts told us about wanderings in some Whitby estates where if you are "not one of them" you are subjected to baleful glares from the locals. To these scenarios, I have added some elements of a Cristopher Fowler short story about a driver in an underground car park.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 4 months ago in Fiction
