Stream of Consciousness

To Never Grow Old
Introduction This is for L.C. Schäfer's "Dollar Challenge - Country Roads Challenge (September edition)" which you can read about here.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about a year ago in Fiction
Just Let It Go
The stress has driven me to my breaking point. I’ve done my best to maintain my inner strength throughout the years, but enough is enough. Even the strongest of us max out eventually and I’m no exception. Of course I didn’t start out thinking like this.
By Mark Gagnonabout a year ago in Fiction
Much Too Young - Much Too Old
Studying my words from long ago, in the yellowed pages of my manifesto, when my mind was more alive than it is today. "Sat at my desk to create legacy. Seeking fame and respect. An empire. From behind my desk in my humble log cabin, the void between inspiration and desolation breached. With the right words in the right sequence, one could tap the creative depths of my mind and bring to fruition something remarkable-unforgettable.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Fiction
The Secrets my Mother Kept
Alexander shut his bedroom door and waited, listening to his grandmother's footsteps fade down the hallway. The sound of her favorite soap opera drifted up the stairs - she'd be occupied for at least an hour.
By Parsley Rose about a year ago in Fiction
AI for the Mind
The Rise of Digital Therapy Tools In recent years, mental health has become a central topic across Europe, with rising awareness about depression, anxiety, and burnout. Traditionally, access to therapy has been limited by long waiting times, high costs, and stigma. This is where artificial intelligence (AI) has stepped in, offering new ways to make mental health support more accessible.
By Muhammad Ibrahimabout a year ago in Fiction
Arrival Over Earth
Arrival Over Earth 2000 miles across the sky By Joey Raines The footage was never meant to be seen. It was labeled, stored, and buried in silence. Yet for a brief moment, it escaped into the world, a glimpse of something that should not exist.
By Joey Rainesabout a year ago in Fiction
The New Teacher at the Open House
You touched the back of my arm and I flexed my tricep to make it seem more impressive. Why do I want to impress you at all? You didn’t have to touch me like that, but yet you did. You’re too young and innocent for me. Deep down inside, I know this to be true. There goes my insecurities… again. Shoot! Honestly, you don’t look a day older than twenty-five… Sweet youth… Clearly, you knew what you wanted with your career though. That is refreshing. Lucky.
By Rowan Finley about a year ago in Fiction
I Used These 10 Free AI Tools for 1 Month – The Results Surprised Me. AI-Generated.
Introduction We live in a time where artificial intelligence is no longer a distant dream — it’s part of our daily routine. From writing to designing, from research to video editing, there seems to be an AI tool for almost everything.
By Muhammed Ismailabout a year ago in Fiction
The Dream Breaker. AI-Generated.
POV-Seyra “To stray from the Dream is to fall into silence. To burn against it is to burn against eternity." — Gray Faith Monastery Scripture
By Morpheus of Stoneabout a year ago in Fiction
whatever will be, will be.
Whatever Will Be. When I was just a little boy, I believed my father knew everything. He could hoist me onto his shoulders and make the world seem smaller, safer. He could mend a broken toy with his rough, work-worn hands. And when I asked him the questions that burned inside me, he answered with a gentleness that carried more weight than certainty ever could. One evening beneath a star-thick sky, I asked, “Father, what will I be? Will I be handsome? Will I be rich?” He looked at me for a long moment, then smiled in a way that was both amused and sad. “Whatever will be, will be. The future is not ours to see.” At the time, I hated that answer. I wanted a map, a guarantee. But those words followed me for the rest of my life, as though they’d been stitched into my skin. --- I grew up. My hands grew calloused like his. My life didn’t follow the paths I thought it would. I was not rich, not by any measure the world cared about. I wasn’t handsome in the way heroes are drawn. But I learned to savor what I had: bread still warm from the oven, the crackle of fire in winter, the hand of someone who chose to stay. And when loneliness pressed against me, when I begged the world for clarity, my father’s refrain came back like a half-remembered melody: Whatever will be, will be. --- I met Anna on a day I hadn’t planned for. She wasn’t the future I had imagined for myself—she was better. She laughed easily, even when life was cruel. She believed in me with a faith I could never quite return in myself. Together we built a home. One day, children’s voices filled it. My daughter, not yet six, tugged at my sleeve. “Papa, what will I be when I grow up? Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?” The echo of my boyhood split my chest wide. I wanted to promise her everything—safety, beauty, joy untouched by sorrow. But as I looked into her bright, questioning eyes, my father’s words rose again. I smoothed her hair and whispered: “Whatever will be, will be. The future is not ours to see.” She frowned, unsatisfied. Just as I once had been. --- Time moved quickly after that. Children grow not in seasons but in leaps—first tooth, first day of school, first heartbreak. Each milestone cut me with pride and softened me with fear. “Will I be successful?” “Will I fall in love?” “Will I make you proud?” They asked, again and again. And again, I gave them the only truth I had. Whatever will be, will be. Not a surrender, but a trust—that they would walk forward into whatever awaited them, and that I would stand behind them, always. --- When my father grew old, I sat beside his bed. His hands were thinner now. His voice, fainter. “Do you remember,” I asked him, “what you used to say to me?” A flicker of a smile touched his lips. “Whatever will be, will be.” And I realized, sitting there, that it was not a phrase at all but an inheritance. A gift passed down not through promises, but through faith in the unknown. --- Now my hair has silvered. My children have children of their own. They run to me with the same bright eyes, the same questions: “What will I be?” “Will I be rich? Will I be beautiful?” And I tell them tenderly what was once told to me, what has carried me through joy and heartbreak alike: “Whatever will be, will be. The future is not ours to see.” --- Life is not a straight road, but a winding one. Some dreams fade. Others bloom in their place. Some days are bitter. Others, impossibly sweet. And in the end, it was never about being rich, or handsome, or certain. It was about walking forward despite not knowing what lay ahead—and discovering that love, and family, and memory itself were enough. --- On quiet evenings, I watch my grandchildren chase each other beneath the same kind of sky I once gazed upon with my father. The stars burn above us. I smile, and I whisper into the night, as though my father still stands beside me:
By E. hasanabout a year ago in Fiction
When Aliens Aren’t Aliens
When Aliens Aren’t Aliens Why Faith Still Stands When the Skies Surprise Us By Joey Raines I leaned back in my chair, watching the question hang in the air. Someone had just asked me what would happen if we ever found aliens.
By Joey Rainesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Night I Spoke to My Shadow
I don’t usually talk about this—not because I’m afraid of being judged, but because I still don’t fully understand what happened myself. But tonight, as the clock ticks past midnight and the city sinks into silence, I feel that same pull again. So here it is: the night I spoke to my shadow.
By Mahmood Afridiabout a year ago in Fiction