Stream of Consciousness
Pink Buds. Top Story - June 2026. Content Warning.
Running through the weed patch, laughing, I listened for the others as they ran all around me. Who knew there was such a gold mine, or rather, field, right here outside the city limits? Jay Jay had stopped somewhere up ahead, and I could hear him with his “Blessed Mother Mary’s.” While Will and Trina were giggling together somewhere behind me, Suzie was just ahead of me, just as giddy as I was, looking over her shoulder like she wanted to ask me a question.
By Mother Combs4 months ago in Fiction
Always limped behind
Well, I slipped into it again, as I have so many times before. It was a good friend's 30th birthday, and I just didn’t want to be rude. Or at least, that’s the lie I’ll use this time to make it digestible — for me and for everyone else, should they point fingers at it. At the fact that I told them, wrote about it, proclaimed it, preached it like gospel: “I will never do it again! ” I lied. I pretended. And here I am at step one again. Ground zero. The bottom. Not rock bottom yet, but fairly close.
By George Roast4 months ago in Fiction
I smiled...But I Was Dying Inside
I smiled like everything was ok. Like the weight on my chest didn't exist. Like the nights weren’t getting heavier and the silence wasn’t getting louder. People saw my smile and believed it. Maybe because it was easier for them… or maybe because I had perfected the art of pretending.
By Fazalullah 4 months ago in Fiction
Sunlit Absence. Top Story - June 2026.
You are pure poetry Your lips taste like the darkest void, a treasonous valley,of which I have lost myself unduly And set to roam its peaks foreverYour skin is the salt of deathYour heart a welcomed restThese words pierce my soulMake me whole, make me yours, Drown me in love, let me be absoluteSame as the sea foam swallows the shoreDo not let me float half-lit in the starry skyI am not your soft excuse or your safe fallFlood my chest and hold me bareMy night is certain, abandoned, without a care, You deliberately sink me into dusk where waters are velvet and air is warm. We are an immersion. We do not crave comfort with other creatures. We demand room for pain and truth. We are perfect, we are standard, we are beautifully and recklessly undone.
By K.H. Obergfoll4 months ago in Fiction
The Day Ah Never Went Home. Winner in You Had to Be There.
It wis the summer of 2001 an' Ah wis 21 an' living away frae home for the first time. Ah had met a woman, who would become mah wife, online an' Ah flew frae Glasgow tae London tae see her a couple of times. Ah say Glasgow but Ah actually took flights frae Prestwick Airport, which is about 45 minutes by train ootside o' Glasgow, an' arrived at Stansted Airport, which wis about 45 minutes ootside o' London by train. Frae Liverpool Street Station Ah then travelled, wae the woman who kindly met me, tae Ilford, Essex. It wis the furthest Ah'd ever travelled without mah mum, dad, brother an' sister. It felt like a big deal, even if tae many people it wis just ordinary travel. Ah wisnae a sheltered boy by any stretch an' before Ah had met Ruth, Ah had experienced a lot, but this wis the first major bit o' travelling Ah had done on mah own. The third time Ah visited Ah stayed longer an' then didnae go back. In fact, it is noo 2026 an' Ah still havenae ever gone back home. No really anyway. Ruth wis 33 an' Ah wis 21, so Ah wis like the cat who had got the cream. Ah had nae interest in girls mah own age. Back tae Ilford an' the blossoming relationship between Ruth an' me. As a newcomer tae that neck o' the woods, having only been tae London once when Ah wis very wee, we decided tae go tae Green Park. At that point Ah didnae even know there wis a Green Park. The smallest o' the Royal Parks, it isnae quite as fancy as the bigger names like Hyde or Richmond Park. Still, it is a beautiful 16 hectares o' mature trees an' plenty o' spaces for sitting an' whiling away the hours. Before getting the train frae Ilford tae Liverpool Street an' then tae the side o' the city where Green Park sat, Ruth had done some bargain hunting in a local supermarket. She bought some wee bits an' pieces for a modest picnic. She wis a single parent wae disabilities, an' Ah wis a student. Ah cannae remember whit wis in her bag o' treats aside frae pastrami she had bought under the impression Ah'd had it often due tae mah deeply rooted Italian heritage. Both maternal grandparents were Italian immigrants. Ah had never tried pastrami before. It wis one o' the few cold cut cured meats Ah hadnae. Mainly because it wis more o' an American phenomenon. Whit's no tae love about cooked cured beef slices? Back tae Green Park. Despite it being the smallest, it still felt pretty big. The sun wis brightening things an' shining doon. Though Ah dinnae mind the details, Ah remember that we had a wonderful time just sitting, snacking an' drinking some fizzy juice or bottled water an' people watching. We would look at the other park visitors that day an' take turns imagining whit their life stories were. One gentleman wis on his first date wae his new girlfriend, one couple were in trouble an' trying tae fix their issues, another were trying for a baby. There wis the salesman who wis gearing up tae secure a big contract an' the couple who had been together for 24 years, which is ironically how long Ruth an' Ah will have been married in September. It wisnae a fancy romantic picnic. We didnae dae anything wild or illicit. We didnae even drink any alcohol. We just sat, chatted an' wrote the life stories o' the passersby. It wis one o' mah favourite days frae the early stages o' oor friendship an' relationship. One o' mah favourite days in life in general, though there have been more since. A lot more.
By Paul Stewart4 months ago in Fiction
