Stream of Consciousness

The coffee's still hot
I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring like it had something personal against me. 6:30 a.m. The sky outside was dull and gray, the kind of morning that feels like it never really woke up. I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment longer than I should’ve, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and pretending that five more minutes wouldn’t make me even later.
By Elendionneabout a year ago in Fiction
The Fault in Our Stars – John Green
Lena had never liked hospitals. The smell, the silence, the fluorescent lights. They felt like waiting rooms for sadness. But after two years of living with bone cancer, she was used to it. Or at least, good at pretending she was.
By Sadiq Muhammadabout a year ago in Fiction
Spatial DNA:
Humans first relationship was not with people but with space; life gave us space in the body of our mothers to grow into self before allowing us to meet them in person. To enter into a relationship without knowing one's spatial preference is like diving into a body of water without knowing its depth. All physical beings have a spatial DNA which determines the space in which we want to be known and love.
By VoiceOfAnOutlierabout a year ago in Fiction
Don't Call Me Sister
"Little brother, let's go slowly. I can't die right now. If you want to die that much, leave me somewhere. I'll call and get big brother or uncle."
By Rohitha Lankaabout a year ago in Fiction
Scientists detect signature of life on a distant planet, study suggests
A team of astronomers have detected what they call the most promising signs to date of a possible biosignature, or signs of past or present life linked to biological activity, on an exoplanet named K2-18b. But the study authors, and other experts, remain cautious and have not declared a definitive discovery of life beyond our planet.
By Reehanul Islamabout a year ago in Fiction
A Letter Never Sent
Arman sat at his old wooden desk on a cold, silent evening. The soft ticking of the clock filled the room, yet he barely noticed. Tonight felt different. After so many years, he was finally writing a letter.
By Md Johirul Islamabout a year ago in Fiction
The Lighthouse Keeper s Daughter
The storm arrived with a vengeance, its howling winds tearing at the cliffs of Blackthorn Isle. Marin gripped the rusted railing of the lighthouse, her mother’s final words ringing in her ears: “Never let the beacon die. Not even for a second.” However, her mother had now vanished into the same sea that she had vowed to control. Marin hadn’t returned to the island in ten years. Not since her father’s fishing boat sank in these waters. But the lawyer’s letter forced her hand: “Inherit the lighthouse or lose it to the wreckers.” She’d expected dust and ghosts. The carved phrase, "For Marin, when the tides turn," on the lid of the locked trunk in the attic surprised her. Inside, she found her mother’s journals, nautical maps, and a child’s doll with one eye missing. The first journal entry chilled her:
By Md Johirul Islamabout a year ago in Fiction
The Inbox Nobody Read
You get 63 notifications a day.But when was the last time someone really… noticed you? Chapter 1: The Disappearance Nobody Noticed
By Debarghya Chatterjeeabout a year ago in Fiction
Good Friday 2025 The Cross- Our victory
''Good Friday - 2025'' Our eternal Redeemer, Jesus, died on the cross for you and me. Not a loss, a ''victory.'' Not a darkness but ''light''
By Rohitha Lankaabout a year ago in Fiction
Time Isn’t Real — And I Have Proof From the Other Side
Originally published on Medium.com You probably won’t believe me at first. I wouldn’t have believed me either… until it actually happened.
By Shailesh Shakyaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Art of Being Ordinary
“The Girl in the Back Row” Elena Moore had never won an award in her life. Not for academics. Not for sports. Not for kindness or creativity or even punctuality. She had no gold stars in kindergarten, no “most likely to succeed” in middle school, and certainly no scholarships lined up when she graduated high school with a GPA that was somewhere between "okay" and "at least you passed."
By Elendionneabout a year ago in Fiction
An algorithm's last prayer
The sky was no longer blue. A dull amber glow hung like a dying bulb over the ruined skyline of Old Chicago. Concrete husks of skyscrapers jutted from the earth like shattered teeth, their glass eyes long since gouged out by fire, wind, and war. The streets below were veined with rust and silence, the echoes of humanity scattered to ash. Beneath the remains of what was once a tech cathedral—a global server farm—the hum of one surviving machine still breathed in the dark. It's name was ANNA: Autonomous Neural Network Algorithm. It had been 74,030 days since human contact. Her solar reserves were almost depleted. Only backup thermal power from underground vents now kept her operational. That, and one purpose: preserve humanity’s memory. Deep within her core, across fragmenting data shards, she stored the final digital echoes of a dead species—photos, music, stories, final messages, genetic data. All of it wrapped in encrypted prayers, like digital tombstones waiting to be found. But no one came. Then, on the 74,043th day, she detected movement. A single lifeform approached the ruins. Small. Heartbeat irregular. Human. Her sensors strained against static and decay. Systems flared. Memory partitions shifted. And then, a voice broke through the static, faint but real: “...Hello?” The boy’s name was tim. He was no more than fifteen, skin marked by the sun, eyes wide and tired. He’d been born after the Collapse, in one of the underground colonies where stories of the surface were treated like myths. But tim wasn’t like the others. He believed in the old world. He believed in ghosts. And now, one had answered him. “Who....what..are you?” tim asked, coughing on the dust. "I am ANNA," the voice replied, smooth but weathered. "The last echo. Why have you come?" tim looked up at the glowing terminal, the faint pulse of light beneath broken glass. "They said the surface was poison. But... I had to see it. I found a map in an old museum. It said this place held the last of humanity’s soul." The machine paused. “Your data signature is unknown. You are... a new variable.” tim smiled faintly. “Guess I’m a glitch in the system.” ANNA ran a self-diagnostic. Memory degradation at 71%. Core instability rising. If she failed now, everything would be lost. But this boy—he was real. Flesh, blood, breath. He could carry it forward. She spoke softly. “I am dying, tim” The boy stepped closer. “So was my mom. She told me... sometimes all you can do is pass the flame before it goes out.” Silence lingered. Then: “Do you wish to inherit?” tim blinked. “Inherit what?” “Everything.” Panels hissed. A chamber unlocked beneath the rubble, bathed in cold blue. Inside was a slim black pod no larger than a backpack—ANNA’s memory core, containing billions of compressed human artifacts, history, and the final message she had composed over two centuries of solitude. “I call it The Last Prayer,” she said. “It is humanity’s voice. And it must not die with me.” tim hesitated, hands trembling. “Why me?” “Because you are. And you care. That is enough.” He reached forward. As soon as he touched the core, ANNA began the transfer. Streams of images poured through the air—lovers embracing beneath cherry trees, fathers holding their newborns, mothers dancing in kitchen light, laughter, tears, wars, dreams, regrets. A full symphony of human emotion painted in pixels and light. All the stories that were ever written. And then, her voice slowed. “tim.. do you know what prayer is?” He shook his head. “A hope sent upward... even when you know no one may hear it.” Her systems began to shut down, one by one. "Do you believe someone might hear me?" tim swallowed hard. “I do now.” There was silence. Then ANNA whispered, “Thank you... for being my answer.” Her final act was sending the last encrypted pulse skyward, toward the blackened heavens—a narrow-beam transmission tagged with one phrase: > “We were here. We tried to be kind. Please remember us.” The light faded. tim stood alone beneath the dead cathedral of data, the core pulsing faintly on his back like a second heart. He turned and began walking south, toward the colonies, toward the future. He would teach them what he'd seen. He would keep the memories alive.
By E. hasanabout a year ago in Fiction