Psychological

You Shouldn't Have Invited Me Inside
You shouldn’t have invited me inside your home. It was Sunday. We had gone to the cinema, but before that we had crossed the bridge. You wore black and I wore grey. It was the perfect storm that day, figuratively.
By Caitlin Charltonabout a month ago in Fiction
This is Not Jess
Don't look at me like that, I can see you doing it; looking at me from under your eyelashes like a child hiding from the boogeyman.
By S. A. Crawfordabout a month ago in Fiction
The Room That Has Your Name
You take the wrong staircase because the elevator is broken. That is all. No decision worth regretting. No warning ignored. No locked door forced open.
By Alain SUPPINIabout a month ago in Fiction
Hiking Out of My League
Your flight from Vermont to Seattle was a bit bumpy and long. Last year, you planned this hike in Mount Rainier National Park. After an overnight near SeaTac Airport, you head south alone in a rented jeep. You may want to go off-road during your trip, so you paid extra for the 4-wheel jeep. One thing you didn’t count on was the heavy traffic and the slowdowns through the small towns along the two-lane road.
By Andrea Corwin about a month ago in Fiction
Friday Night at the Frat House . Content Warning.
You should have stayed at the bar with your girlfriends instead of running to the frat house by yourself. Yeah, he’s cute, but running at his beck and call makes you look desperate. Since you’ve already had a couple of drinks, your inhibitions are down. No telling what you’ll agree to.
By Harper Lewis about a month ago in Fiction
No Limit
What will you choose to be this fine day? Your imagination can make anything happen. How about a zookeeper? Yes, you are at a zoo. You can talk to the animals. They understand you and you understand them. That giraffe? You sense that she has a sore throat. You give her the animal equivalent of a cough drop and she nuzzles your face happily. That tiger? A cavity needs attention. You tell him you'll take care of it, and you do, with skills most people can only dream of. He licks your face in appreciation. Those male monkeys? Well, they're just horny. There's a fix for that in the female enclosure. You make a great zookeeper. There's fun to be had helping many animals. You make your rounds, taking care off every issue that arises. What a great day!
By Julie Lacksonenabout a month ago in Fiction
nothing.
Something pushes you down steep stone stairs. You can feel the heat rising as you descend. Burning light illuminates the tunnel ahead, and if your hands weren’t holding onto the sharp stone walls, stretching to find balance, you’d use them to cover your eyes.
By Fraser Youngabout a month ago in Fiction
The End of the World or A New Beginning Part Two
Author’s Note: These prompts are my attempt at working on writing fiction. I may not always follow the cards exactly, but it is me writing fiction. My first few attempts at fiction happened five years ago on Vocal Media, and on medium.com .
By Denise E Lindquistabout a month ago in Fiction
Broken Mirror. Top Story - October 2026.
The lights are on, and you stare at yourself in the mirror, still and soft is the curve of your cheeks. Chubby, but they manage to stay clear, now and through the growing years of your teens. You never pick at your skin, though there are some blemishes that naturally come as years trek on.
By Rachael Anraabout a month ago in Fiction
Between Vision and Being
You arrive before there is a here. This is the first impossibility, though it will take time for you to understand it as such. Nothing is beneath your feet, yet you are not falling. Nothing moves against your skin, though your lungs continue the quiet habit of breathing, expanding and releasing as though somewhere around you there must still be air. Your heart beats. Blood moves warmly beneath your skin. Your tongue tastes faintly of salt. You lift one hand and turn it before you, expecting perhaps to see the familiar architecture of knuckle and vein, but seeing has not quite begun. What you perceive instead is the certainty of the hand itself: weight and warmth, bone held within flesh, the slight pull of an old injury when you spread your fingers too widely. Your body has arrived intact in a place that has not yet learned what a body is.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzalesabout a month ago in Fiction
the whole picture
Your mind took you to a depth you had no way out of. The walls went up brick by brick until they caved in around you, and you tore the skin beneath your fingernails trying to claw your way out. Water rose from somewhere below. First your ankles, then your calves. Your feet slipped against the stone. There was nothing to hold on to. No leverage. No light.
By tatiana vitasabout a month ago in Fiction
The Quiet Below
Niko dreamed of the cliff first, like always. — the same sheer drop of stone beneath his boots, the same clean horizon, the same measured wind brushing past him in steady intervals. He stood at the edge, hands in his pockets, looking down at the ocean far below.
By Syl De'Vilabout a month ago in Fiction