Stream of Consciousness

Weeps my human psyche (Pt 1)
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. She spoke to me, The River, of her sojourn, her inner Charybdis into the vortex of torment. Long did I listen to her lamented mourn as she walked the banks of me. My soothing waters tried to lustrate and purify her spirit, but alas, could not. The night creatures had taken a hold of her tortured and frail quintessence, dragging it deep into a vanishing chasm. May there be hope, I prayed, of her expurgation and purification.
By Antoni De'Leon2 years ago in Fiction
310 My Vote Discounts
November 5, "the Tuesday next after the first Monday in November," is statutorily set as election day here in the USA. It is, coincidentally, Guy Fawkes Day in the UK.
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
I Want To Run Away From A Place Called Home
In a small town where the sky seemed perpetually gray, lived a girl named Alisha. She often felt trapped in her quaint little house, its peeling paint and creaking floors echoing her restless spirit. The walls, once vibrant with laughter and warmth, had become a cage, suffocating her dreams. Outside, the town was a patchwork of familiar faces and places, but to Alisha,it felt like a prison. Every morning, she would watch the sun rise from her bedroom window, the golden rays spilling into her room like a promise of a different life. She longed for the freedom that seemed just beyond the horizon, whispering to her like a distant melody. The world beyond her home was filled with adventure, and every story she read in books fueled her desire to explore. Yet, every evening, she found herself sitting on her bed, surrounded by stacks of novels, paralyzed by the weight of her own indecision. Alisha’s parents were well-meaning but traditional, their lives steeped in routine. They wanted her to inherit their predictable existence, to find a steady job and settle down. But Alisha craved more than that; she yearned to chase the wind and dance in the rain. The thought of stepping into the unknown filled her with both exhilaration and dread. Each day, she made plans to leave, sketching maps in her journal, dreaming of far-off places where she could reinvent herself. But as night fell, fear would wrap around her like a heavy blanket, pulling her back into the safety of her home. One fateful afternoon, while walking through the town square, Alisha stumbled upon an old, dusty bookstore tucked between a bakery and a café. Its weathered sign creaked in the breeze, inviting her inside. As she entered, the musty scent of paper and ink enveloped her. Rows of books towered over her, their spines like whispered secrets waiting to be uncovered. She wandered through the aisles, her fingers grazing the covers, until a tattered leather-bound book caught her eye. The book was titled “Journeys Beyond the Horizon.” Alisha's heart raced as she opened it to reveal tales of explorers, adventurers, and dreamers who dared to escape the mundane. Each story resonated with her own yearning for freedom. Inspired, she bought the book, clutching it tightly as she made her way home, her mind swirling with possibilities. That night, she devoured the stories, losing herself in the words. With each page turned, her desire to run away grew stronger. She made a pact with herself; she would leave this stifling place and embark on her own journey. By dawn, the decision was made. She would leave everything behind, even if it meant starting from scratch. The next morning, she gathered her essentials: a few clothes, her journal, the treasured book, and a small amount of cash she had saved. With her heart pounding and a sense of urgency propelling her forward, Alisha slipped out of the house before the sun had fully risen. She took one last look at her childhood home, feeling a bittersweet pang in her chest but knowing that the call of adventure was louder than the echo of her past. As she walked through the quiet streets, the world around her began to awaken. The air was crisp, filled with the promise of a new beginning. She headed towards the train station, her heart racing with each step. The train tracks stretched before her like a silver ribbon, leading to unknown destinations. She bought a ticket for the first train, her excitement bubbling to the surface. As the train pulled away, Alisha pressed her face against the window, watching her hometown fade into the distance. Each mile felt like a weight lifted from her shoulders, the chains of her past breaking apart. In that moment, she realized that home was not a place, but a feeling—a sense of belonging she had yet to discover. With the wind in her hair and the horizon unfolding before her, Alisha embraced the uncertainty of her journey. She was no longer running away from a place called home; she was running toward herself, ready to write her own story, one filled with the adventures she had always dreamed of. And as the train sped into the unknown, she smiled, knowing she had finally chosen to live her life on her own terms.
By zulfi bux2 years ago in Fiction
Showing me the magic
Years ago, in the vibrant city of Rio de Janeiro, there lived a young man named Pedro. Pedro worked at a prestigious marketing firm, but despite the outward success, he felt a constant undercurrent of dissatisfaction. He had been with the company for a few months, navigating a steep learning curve before settling into a routine. Yet, the nagging feeling that he was meant for something more wouldn’t leave him.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction
Life Circle
My back-door neighbors disappear almost fully every summer. It’s a slow, patchy, green obscuration, courtesy of a tall persimmon tree next to the fence that separates our houses. Today morning, as I stand at the kitchen sink filling water in a small saucepan and look out of the window in the back, their seasonal eclipsing is almost at totality. Only an edge of their terracotta tile roof and part of the upstairs window remain. Come fall, the gaps between the branches of the tree, bending under the weight of many fruit, will widen. And, as I walk through the different levels of my house, I’ll start to catch glimpses of them again. An upside-down triangle view of their patio door and the periodic appearance of the man as he jogs in circles around his house. Or, of the lady sitting on the step with her back resting against the pale brown-pink walls, head tilted, and her eyes closed against the sun. I always feel a strange reassurance at their reappearance. We don’t know each other, but they’re part of a cycle I unconsciously track, and though I can never be sure of the shape their return will take, I still count on the little predictability it offers.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction
The Journey to My Wife's Heart
Three years ago, if you’d asked me, "Can you cook?" my answer would’ve been a sheepish, “Umm... I can make Maggie” And even that was hit or miss—either overcooked or too watery. Life was simple and uncomplicated until I got married.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction
Life & Death Are In Your Actions, Choices & Decisions — Part 1
“Wait!” Cera cried out to Denova, after passing a well-dressed male, kicking the left back tire of his black Mercedes Benz, on the side of the highway, reserved for cars in distress.
By Annelise Lords 2 years ago in Fiction
The Curse of Ravenwood Manor
The Curse of Ravenwood Manor Every Halloween, the small, mist-covered town of Ravenwood fell under a chilling spell. Known for its spooky atmosphere and ancient legends, Ravenwood attracted both thrill-seekers and ghost hunters from far and wide. But amidst all the haunted tales, one story remained the most terrifying—the Curse of Ravenwood Manor.
By Nada soliman2 years ago in Fiction
The Forgotten Garden
In a faraway forest, nestled between two ancient mountains, there was a garden known only in whispers. It had no map or path leading to it, but those who wandered too far from home sometimes stumbled upon it. Most who did forgot it instantly, as though it slipped from their memory like mist. But the rare few who remembered told of a world untouched by time—a place known simply as The Forgotten Garden.
By Melanie2 years ago in Fiction
My last night's dream
Hey there, fellow dreamer, Think the gates of heaven are shrouded in mystery? It's simpler than you imagine. Why am I so confident this will change the game for you?
By Rajia Qayyum2 years ago in Fiction
The Ultimate Guide to the Top 10 AI Websites for 2024
The Ultimate Guide to the Top 10 AI Websites for 2024 Artificial intelligence or AI is no longer a topic that has been picked up by a few scholars over the last few decades, but rather a critical tool and element being used by industries all around the globe. In the present day, entrepreneurs and individuals look for cutting-edge AI tools, datasets, and news from the best AI websites. This post offers a list of 10 AI sites, from platforms for cloud-based machine learning to research labs and new initiatives that are essential for anyone considering AI work.
By DHARMENDRA KUMAR BAIRWA2 years ago in Fiction
The Queen Pelalandorus Incident
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. Perhaps it was the wind. Others say it was because we were famished. A curse? For having killed her kin. Divine retribution for those we banished. A plague sent by the Vaquarin? For a war that was unfinished.
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Fiction