Stream of Consciousness

Gina’s Blind Date Experience
Gina took a deep breath as she stepped onto the porch, her stomach twisting in knots. Standing at the doorstep was a tall, well-dressed man with dark hair and a faint, mysterious smile. His eyes gleamed in the evening light, but something about him made her skin crawl.
By Komal2 years ago in Fiction
A Silent Plea
The digital alarm clock on Ananya’s bedside table screamed 6:00 AM in stark red numerals. She groaned, pulling the thin blanket over her head, a futile attempt to block out the insistent buzzing. Another day. Another race she knew she couldn’t win.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction
Saathi Screens
The Mumbai monsoon was a relentless beast, mirroring the tempest within Rohan. The rejection emails, “We regret to inform you…” Another one. The tenth this month each a digital slap in the face, had piled up like the overflowing garbage bins outside his window. At 42, his once-promising marketing career lay in ruins, with a CV boasting a decade of experience in marketing for a now-defunct textile company, Rohan was facing a harsh reality, the recession had hit India hard, and his skills were suddenly deemed redundant.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction
Crossroads
Turning it in gauntleted hands, he felt the weight of all creation carried by its bloodstained hilt. Excalibur. Outside, the crows sang Arthur’s Lament.
By Matthew J. Fromm2 years ago in Fiction
The Language of Fireflies
The air in the village of Thennampatti was thick with the scent of jasmine and wet earth after the morning rain. Emerald paddy fields stretched as far as the eye could see, a vibrant tapestry woven by nature’s hand.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction
Unexpected Connections. Content Warning.
Micaela and I had been together for what felt like a lifetime. We’d fallen in love one sun-drenched summer when we were twenty, our connection as natural as the turning of the tides. I had always been faithful to her, and I believed she was the same not out of obligation, but out of a deep, mutual respect.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction
The Eyes
The night lives like we do. It consumes the day to sustain itself. The darkness spreads itself around the planet and grabs the attention of those who witness it. The darkness isn’t completely dark. Its eyes illuminate the planet in a way no one can describe. The dark skies of the past became something that the majority took as a beautiful gift.
By AJ2 years ago in Fiction
Violet Eyes
The neon glow of Neo-Avalon, a sprawling metropolis where humans and their near-perfect creations, the Synths, coexisted in a tense, often uneasy balance, painted the rain-slicked streets in hues of electric blue and toxic green. Rain dripped from the brim of Dameian Blackwood’s fedora, mirroring the relentless drip of time on his soul.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction
The Estate
The newlyweds arrived as twilight draped the world in its lingering glow, the sky a bruised palette of amber and deep violet. Amara stepped out of the car, her heels sinking slightly into the gravel, the cool air kissing her exposed shoulders and sending a delightful shiver down her spine. The silk of her blouse, a shade of deep crimson, shifted gently against her skin with each breath, the fabric catching the last rays of the setting sun.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction
The Enemy and Vague Memories of the Past
Frank turned the photo over, his fingers trembling. On its backside, a phrase was scribbled in faded ink: “Together we stay, together we die.”
By Maryam Batool2 years ago in Fiction
The Merchant of Dreams
Clara slipped on the snow-covered road and reached Uncle Calmon's only shop on a small, narrow street. This was the only shop in the town where anyone could buy a dream. But in exchange for that dream, he had to pay a price to Uncle Calmon. But whoever came to Uncle Calmon's shop once would disappear after that. So there was a rumor in the whole town that all those people had gone to their dream world. It is useless to search for them, they will never be found again. As soon as she reached there, Clara hid her half-eaten apple in her coat pocket. She said to Uncle Calmon smilingly, "I want to buy a beautiful dream." "You are welcome dear," said Uncle Calmon with a smile. "But I am sorry, all the dreams are sold out today, so I have only one left. You have no choice. You have to buy that one dream, or you can come again tomorrow." "No, give me the one dream you have," replied Clara eagerly. Uncle Calmon opened his dusty cupboard and took out a golden and shiny jar. In which a dream was floating. He carefully handed the jar into Clara's hands. "What price will I have to pay for this Dream?" said Clara.
By Karan w. 2 years ago in Fiction
Under the Scorching Sun
The village of Bandhnapur, nestled deep in the parched heart of the Northern peninsula, was a place where life moved slowly, bound by the unyielding grip of tradition. Dust clung to every surface, carried by dry winds that whispered secrets from generations past. The fields stretched endlessly, cracked and barren under the merciless sun, while the thatched huts huddled together like battered soldiers braving a storm.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction