Stream of Consciousness

The Writers in The Walls
Why are my pencils always gone? The moment I set one down, it’s flown I desperately scribble with pen, marker, crayon Whatever I can get my grubby hands on
By K.B. Silver about a year ago in Fiction
The Remnance of Michael McCormack . Content Warning.
I have so many words, but I'm flustered beyond belief when I sit down to write this note. Who was Michael McCormack? Some would say he was the best friend nobody knew they had, some would say he was excellent in school, his friends and family would claim he was a special talent taken too soon.
By Parsley Rose about a year ago in Fiction
The Day Ads Started Talking Back
It started with a banner ad. When ignoring pop-ups was no longer an option, the internet changed forever. At first, Jason thought it was a glitch. He was scrolling through an article when a flashing banner for a fitness app appeared at the top of his screen. Nothing unusual there. But then the banner changed, and the text read:
By Farooq Hashmiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Clock Stopped at 3:07
The night it started, I thought it was just a coincidence. I had fallen asleep on the couch, the TV still on, when a sharp click jolted me awake. I glanced over at the old clock on the wall—the one my grandmother left me. Its second hand had frozen, pointing straight at the seven.
By ETS_Storyabout a year ago in Fiction
The Power of AI: How Artificial Intelligence is Shaping the Future of Humanity
The Power of AI: How Artificial Intelligence is Shaping the Future of Humanity --- A New Era of Intelligence Artificial Intelligence (AI) is no longer the stuff of science fiction—it’s here, woven into the fabric of our daily lives. At its core, AI is the simulation of human intelligence by machines. It can learn, adapt, and even make decisions, sometimes faster and more accurately than people. What was once imagined in futuristic novels is now a reality: machines that recognize faces, translate languages, diagnose diseases, and even create art. The rise of AI represents a turning point in human history, comparable to the invention of electricity or the internet.
By Muhammad Ibrahimabout a year ago in Fiction
"The Passenger Who Wasn’t There"
It was raining the night it happened, one of those slow, steady rains that makes the road shine like black glass. I was driving home from work, tired, half-listening to the radio when I saw her.
By ETS_Storyabout a year ago in Fiction
The Love Thief. Top Story - August 2025.
As the sun lies down to sleep, figures dance across green fields dotted with daffodils. Twisting and turning, they meet in the evening’s cool breeze. Staring into each other’s eyes, they feel the weight of the universe bear down on their hearts. The shaking in their knees makes them shiver in the summer air. They enter each other without care as they stare into each other’s souls. In love with each other’s drawing gaze, as time scrolls by, it turns to a haze.
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Fiction
The Town That Forgets You
The Story The Town That Forgets You The first thing I noticed about Willow’s End was how quiet it was. No cars passed along the single main street. The air was heavy, still, as if the whole town held its breath. A few shops lined the street—a bakery, a general store, a post office—but none had signs that looked newer than a decade old.
By waseem khanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Forest of the Forgotten
A gentle breeze brushes along the leaves of the neighboring trees. I'm lying in the grass, tall and overgrown as far as the eye can see, making it almost impossible for me to see. The sound the wind makes had always brought a smile to my face, especially here.
By Parsley Rose about a year ago in Fiction
The Last Train
Rain whispered against the station roof, a soft rhythm beneath the stillness of Platform 7. Anaya sat alone—though not quite alone—on a worn wooden bench, her fingers tracing the edge of a train ticket like it might vanish if she stopped holding on.
By meerjananabout a year ago in Fiction
She Called Me-Two Years After I Buried Her
I wasn’t supposed to hear her voice again. Not after the funeral. Not after the dirt hit the coffin and we all stood there in silence, trying to believe she was really gone.
By ETS_Storyabout a year ago in Fiction
Balcony View
The balcony was perfect. The city sprawled in every direction, softened by the warm tint of late evening. Buildings rose like glass and steel sculptures, catching fire in the golden hour glow. From up here, the world was hushed, the noise of traffic pressed flat into a gentle hum, almost pleasant. It was the kind of view that made people pause, the kind of backdrop that belonged in glossy magazines or realtor ads: Luxury living, skyline included.
By Annie Edwards about a year ago in Fiction