Stream of Consciousness
The Photograph That Changes Every Morning
The Unexpected Package The photograph arrived on a rainy Tuesday morning in a plain brown package with no return address. Daniel almost ignored it, assuming it was another delivery intended for someone else in the apartment building. But his name was written clearly across the front. Curious, he carried it inside and carefully opened it on the kitchen table. Nestled within layers of yellowed newspaper was an old wooden frame containing a black-and-white photograph of a Victorian house standing alone at the edge of a forest. The image appeared ordinary at first glance. The house looked abandoned, its windows dark and lifeless beneath a cloudy sky. A narrow path stretched from the front porch into the woods beyond. There was no note, no explanation, and no indication of who had sent it. After staring at it for several minutes, Daniel simply shrugged and placed it on a shelf in his living room.
By Robert Redford3 months ago in Fiction
Not the Kind of "Thank You" That You Want to Hear...
I didn’t know if the time was right but I said it anyway, “I love you. Without looking at me, she responded flatly with, “Thank you.” In my head, I thought to myself how lame of a response that really was. When you say, "I love you," to someone and they respond with, "Thank you," it feels as if they received the drop of your love in a bucket. An endless bucket that goes on into some abyss. If there is no "I love you, too," then it just feels void of any relational depth or connection. It's empty. Hollow. Sad. It feels almost like a waste altogether but then maybe there is still some value or intrinsic merit? It's like the tossing and turning during sleepless nights but instead you're wide awake, sitting very still awkwardly and not actually attempting to sleep at all.
By Rowan Finley 3 months ago in Fiction
The Merchant of Shadows
The weavers of the High Steppe did not use wool or silk. They sat on the rocky precipices where the wind whipped through the canyons like a physical weight, and they wove the air itself. Using needles carved from the bones of mountain eagles, they captured the invisible currents, turning gusts into heavy blankets and gentle breezes into delicate, translucent veils that could ward off the fiercest winter frost.
By Asghar ali awan3 months ago in Fiction
Your Prejudice is Showing.. Top Story - June 2026.
We were out at a function together, my brother in Ebony shades of Black and (I) me...when he met a White woman who declared her surprise that he was so well put together. A Black man who was very well spoken. She quite emphasized the fact that he was well spoken. As if to say, that there are not that many beautiful Black men who are well outfitted and well spoken. I may be repeating myself...but the situation requires it.
By Novel Allen3 months ago in Fiction
After the Generous Gambler The Devil was there. He was simply not worth the bet
Yesterday, I found myself reading a short story by an author who was, to me then, unknown: Charles Pierre Baudelaire. In his prose piece, The Generous Gambler, there lingered a depth few seemed to notice until cinema modernized its whisper through Verbal Kint:
By LUCCIAN LAYTH3 months ago in Fiction
Hotel Roulette
It usually started on a quiet morning. The sun wouldn't be ready to rise for hours, yet we were paraded out of the house, bleary-eyed and half-dressed with pillows in hand. Cricket song serenaded Dad as he packed the luggage in the back of that well-loved gold Windstar. Bags that we'd all proudly packed ourselves, and - unbeknownst to us - Mom had repacked for us the night before. After making sure we were comfortably stuffed in the second and third rows of the back seat, she took hers up front on the passenger side. I fondly recall nodding off again to the rustle of an unfurling map and the quiet shuffling of her purse on her lap, double checking one last time that nothing was forgotten.
By Natalie Gray3 months ago in Fiction
The Town Where Nobody Ages
The Town That Shouldn't Exist I first heard about Blackridge from a retired journalist who refused to discuss it on record. We were sitting in a quiet café when he mentioned a town hidden deep within the mountains, a place that didn't appear on most maps and rarely welcomed outsiders. According to him, the town had remained unchanged for more than seventy years. Buildings never seemed to deteriorate. Businesses stayed open under the same owners. Most disturbing of all, nobody who lived there appeared to grow older.
By Robert Redford4 months ago in Fiction
The Locked Room With No Exit
The Room Nobody Could Explain The first reports sounded impossible. A man named Victor Hale was found trapped inside a room with no doors, no windows, and no visible exit. The room itself was discovered beneath an abandoned hotel scheduled for demolition on the outskirts of the city. Construction workers had accidentally broken through a hidden wall and uncovered a chamber that wasn't shown on any blueprint. At first, everyone assumed it was some forgotten storage space. Then they found Victor sitting alone in the center of the room, terrified and dehydrated.
By Robert Redford4 months ago in Fiction
A Diary That Predicts Murders Before They Happen
The Strange Purchase I never intended to buy the diary. On a rainy afternoon, I wandered into a small antique shop tucked away in one of the oldest parts of the city. The place smelled of dust, old paper, and forgotten stories. Shelves were crowded with items that looked as though they hadn't been touched in decades. While browsing, I noticed a black leather diary resting inside a locked glass cabinet. Unlike everything around it, the diary seemed oddly preserved. Its cover was smooth, its pages appeared untouched, and a silver symbol was engraved on the front. The shop owner sold it to me for almost nothing. Looking back, I often wonder whether he knew exactly what he was getting rid of.
By Robert Redford4 months ago in Fiction
