Life
Fall of the Apocalypse . Content Warning.
The Fall of the Apocalypse The zombie outbreak didn’t start with sirens or explosions or government warnings. It started with a man trying to buy a pack of Marlboros at the Genoa Junction Bp off Highway 12. I was behind the counter, half asleep, half annoyed, and fully ready to tell him we were out of his brand. Cyndle was restocking the cooler, humming something off‑key. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like they always did. It was just another Tuesday.
By Syl De'Vil2 days ago in Writers
Through the Eyes of Bill Bixby. Top Story - September 2026.
Link to the Challenge: Thank you for the Challenge, Annie. I may forgive you one day. I had quite a few fears as a child. It is not worth my time listing all of them here, but I count my father, the odd bully, death, and the possibility that I just did not belong to the family I was with as a large part of the list. It was so bad that I reached the point, when we moved to the suburbs, that I could watch any horror film by myself and barely feel any fear (my mother wondered how I could sit in our basement on a Friday night watching some of the best years of Wes Craven and John Carpenter). To me, they were just cartoonish fantasies after everything else I faced and thought of.
By Kendall Defoe 3 days ago in Writers
Beyond The Veil
This image is an edit of the “Flammarion Engraving” (ca. 1888). In the original, the red-clad wanderer pierces the veil of this world to find an incomprehensible and divine cosmology beyond it. In contrast, the edit presents the man with a land of neon signs: Exxon-Mobil, McDonalds and Shell shinning amidst tangled power lines, roads and passing cars. What was the height of divinity and truth in the original is replaced with the base, ugliness of modern civilisation.
By I. D. Reeves3 days ago in Writers
I Didn’t Mean to Disappear
I didn’t plan to vanish from Vocal, not for this long... No dramatic exit, and it wasn't caused by any kind of creative burnout- I didn't make any grand announcement either. I simply stepped away for “a little while, yet it turned out to be longer than I thought,” and then life quietly rewrote the script.
By Jonathan Townend4 days ago in Writers
Remote Work Resorts
Let me be brutally honest: the traditional office is dying a slow, painful death, and frankly, it's about time. After spending the better part of two decades watching corporate Australia cling to outdated work models like a security blanket, I've witnessed something extraordinary unfold over the past few years. The pandemic didn't just force us to work from home - it exposed the glaring absurdity of forcing talented people into sterile cubicles for eight hours a day, five days a week.
By Narghiza Ergashova6 days ago in Writers
Measuring Value
You are an employee that goes beyond the "craft to execution" and "problem-solving to initiative". You bring strategic impact along with your market vision that directly influences that company's bottom line. But your rank and net pay in the hands of your employer does not change. Not because you are not valuable to them but because they can not afford your services at the market rate nor can they re-design the upper echelon to accommodate your growth and talents without causing "waves". If you give far too much for the same old, you are the majority of the talent stuck within dormant companies that have no systems of recognition of talent based on merit.
By Narghiza Ergashova6 days ago in Writers
Are You Building a Career or Just a Brand?
Let’s face it: we’re all living double lives. There’s the version of you that gets up, does the work, and delivers results. And then there’s the curated, polished, LinkedIn-friendly version of you - the one who seems effortlessly successful, constantly grinding, and always "on." Over time, it feels like this second version of ourselves has taken center stage. We’ve become performers in our own career dramas, and honestly, the show is exhausting.
By Narghiza Ergashova6 days ago in Writers
Digital Graveyard Confessions
I used to pour my morning coffee, open my laptop, and genuinely trust the words staring back at me. Now, I sip my brew with a heavy dose of suspicion. I am being haunted. Not by spirits, but by soulless algorithms masquerading as articles written by ChatGPT otherwise referred as journalists that often name me in them for ranking. I am featured rich, poor, an aggresor or a victim depending who has written it.
By Narghiza Ergashova6 days ago in Writers
