Stream of Consciousness

Not Him. Not Now. . Runner-Up in The Summer That Wasn’t Challenge. Top Story - July 2025.
This was meant to be the summer of progress. New systems, new structure, new home, new routine. A new rhythm to life for all of us. A proper house this time, one that came with more than one bedroom for the four of us, a solid roof, floorboards that didn't screech under pressure. It was supposed to be a summer of painting walls and building garden beds. We had planned to flourish this season.
By Autumn Stewabout a year ago in Fiction
The Glass Shark
Sylvia almost tossed it into the donation box. The little glass shark ornament had been gathering dust on her windowsill for years, a relic from a relationship that ended long ago. But whenever her fingers closed around it, something in her chest tightened.
By Natasha Collazoabout a year ago in Fiction
The Mirror Doesn't Lie📖. AI-Generated.
It started with the mirror. Maya had just moved into her new apartment—a tiny, creaky studio in a rundown building downtown. The place came fully furnished, including an old mirror nailed to the bathroom wall. The landlord told her it was “impossible to remove” and laughed nervously, saying, “It’s been there longer than the plumbing.”
By ElaheMindStoriesabout a year ago in Fiction
For broken people. Content Warning.
Don’t say goodbye to your family. Don’t say goodbye to your coworkers. Don’t say goodbye to your friends. Don’t say goodbye to your community.
By Sam McNamaraabout a year ago in Fiction
Stolen Moments
A successful businesswoman, married to a seemingly perfect man, finds herself falling for a stranger she meets while traveling. Over the course of their brief, stolen moments together, they experience intense emotions, but soon realize that their connection may be part of a larger, deeper scheme that could tear their lives apart.
By Vivids 💖about a year ago in Fiction
Summer flavored escape 👒👰🏻
The view from the elegant room was perfect. A delightful dream to the young woman peering smilingly at the landscape. A mild summer day unfolds gently, like a page turned by a breeze.
By Antoni De'Leonabout a year ago in Fiction
The Window
She was the single window in the old blue-almost-green house, already a little washed out by time in that monotonous village, where everything seemed to be slowly losing its colour. So she was surprised that her windowsill didn’t get a bit more attention from the people inside the house.
By Erika Lorennaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Beginning Inside Hell
Alaric: Hey, why have you pointed your gun at me? Why did you lock the room's door? Eldric: I locked the door so no one could see me shooting you. I’ve come to kill you. Alaric: Kill me, then kill yourself too. Eldric: Why would I kill myself? I only want to kill you. Alaric: Because you’ll die, even if you don’t shoot yourself. Eldric: How? That’s impossible. Alaric: What do you think — will the bullet kill me, or will you? Eldric: The bullet will kill you, the one fired from my gun. Alaric: Oh, you're a genius. Why do you want to kill me? Eldric: I’ll get rewards in return. Killing an enemy is an act of bravery. My country will be proud of me. Alaric: Do you live just to receive rewards? So people keep giving you rewards — any kind of reward — praise, money etc. People will tell their children tales of your bravery, of how you killed me. You’ll live happily after gaining all this, right? Eldric: Yes. What else does a man need? This is enough to live. Alaric: There's no one in this room except the two of us. If we remain trapped here for life, would you still kill me or keep me alive to entertain yourself? Eldric: No. Never. I’ll never live with my enemy. I will kill you. Alaric: Who all are in your family? Eldric: My wife, two children, my father. My mother passed away when I was young. Who’s in your family? Alaric: There's no one in my family. Everyone died in the war. Anyway, what difference does it make? Your place in someone else's existence doesn't matter at all, it's only you with yourself. Eldric: Don’t you feel sad about losing your family? Alaric: No. I’m alive, so I’m happy. Don’t shoot me, my blood will stain floor, your clothes will get dirty. Maybe your kids will get scared seeing blood on your clothes. So, strangle me instead — you’re strong. Eldric: I will definitely fulfill your wish. Anyway, I won’t waste a bullet on you. Alaric: Want some water? You look really thirsty. Eldric: No. Maybe you’ve poisoned it. Alaric: You’re right. I’ve poisoned it. You're genius. Eldric: Why? Alaric: Don’t know. Eldric: You’re not drinking this water. Alaric: I do drink this water. Eldric: Then why did you poison it? Alaric: Don’t know. Eldric: You're lying. There's no poison in it. Alaric: You can drink it to find out. Eldric: I’m not a fool. But I can say with certainty — there’s no poison in it. Alaric: Its color isn’t like water. There’s poison in it. Eldric: Let me look into it. If there’s poison in water, the color will change. (He bent over to look closely into the glass kept on the table. Alaric snatched the gun from his hand and fired all the bullets into his chest. He laughed loudly.) Alaric: In a locked room, the fight was only to protect one’s existence. You failed. Eldric: You deceived me. Alaric: When did you ever trust me?
By Karan w. about a year ago in Fiction
Our 12 year summer
Summer is my least favorite season. The desert heat and intense sun make it a miserable place to spend three straight months sweating, not to mention it's not tourist season, so business slows down to an uncomfortable low. Like counting every dollar low, but those are why I hated the previous summers. Now I hate summers because it's when my family fell apart.
By David Williamsabout a year ago in Fiction
Hearts against the Storm
The SUV disappeared into the dust of the road before I could even take a step. I stood there frozen, the world spinning around me. Alya had been crying. Her eyes had locked with mine. She wanted me to stop him. To save her. But I was too slow.
By Mehmood Niazabout a year ago in Fiction
What Almost Was...
My story, it could have been happier holding onto my dream job for the rest of my life. It’s like the Summer that Never Was! I looked forward to my 40th birthday and doing it up big!
By J.W. Bairdabout a year ago in Fiction
The Tree That Grew Backward
The last time Maya saw her grandfather’s orchard alive, she was seven. Rows of pear trees stretched like disciplined soldiers, branches heavy with fruit he called "sunlight made solid." Now, twenty years later, she stood in the same spot, breathing air thick with decay.
By Habibullahabout a year ago in Fiction