Stream of Consciousness
Perfectionism
“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor”. I read this in a book about how to write - “bird by bird” by Anne Lamott. Ironically, I picked up this book in the hopes that I will be able to write “perfectly”. If I keep reading about how to write, eventually, the first thing I write will be a pulitzer winning book or an oscar winning screenplay. Scratch that, I am a tad bit fancier - I will actually write a palme d’Or winning film.
By Varun Choudhary2 years ago in Writers
The Enduring Echo of Love: Yesterday’s Patience, Today’s Longing
In today’s fast-paced world of instant messages and rapid replies, we often yearn for a time when love was simpler — built on patience, passion, and waiting. It was a slower pace, where letters were written, emotions nurtured over time, and love grew at its own rhythm.Yet, while the pace of life has changed, the essence of love remains the same — it’s not the world that dictates love’s pace, but the courage to choose it, despite society’s pressures and expectations.
By Umang Yadav2 years ago in Writers
An ode to finding love in myself
Because when you just dream about it in your heart, work hard for it and believe in the universe to perform its magic, it conspires in the best-designated ways to make your dreams come true. I have always believed in the higher power, something beyond the fathomable vision of the human eye that beholds us, ties us to our purpose and protects us in times of uncertainty and dejection.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Writers
An ode to being lost in life
Because when you just dream about it in your heart, work hard for it and believe in the universe to perform its magic, it conspires in the best-designed ways to make your dreams come true. I have always believed in the higher power, something beyond the fathomable vision of the human eye that beholds us, ties us to our purpose and protects us in times of uncertainty and dejection. It is comforting to know that some mighty and divine force beckons us in moments of need and sometimes all we need to do is let go and have faith. Life in its truest mirth often transcends through the truces of rationalisation and delusion, through the light of knowing exactly what to do and under the traces of pretence which hides the scariest part, not having a single clue as to where your life is going.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Writers
The Vanishing of Hollow Creek
Hollow Creek had always been the kind of town where nothing ever happened—until people started disappearing. First, it was a drifter, then a shopkeeper’s son, then old Mr. Thompson, who’d spent decades sitting outside the general store, watching the world pass by. The townspeople whispered, wondering if they had a serial killer in their midst. But there were no bodies, no traces, no signs of struggle. Detective Elias Monroe was called in from the city, his reputation preceding him. A man of logic, he didn’t believe in ghost stories or folklore. But Hollow Creek had a way of getting under a man’s skin. The people spoke in hushed tones, their eyes darting nervously. The town felt… off, like it existed just slightly out of sync with the rest of the world. His investigation started at the last known location of the missing—a dimly lit alley behind the old theater. The streetlamp flickered, its hum filling the silence. As he stepped forward, a sudden chill crept up his spine. A shadow moved at the end of the alley, barely more than a whisper in the darkness. “Hello?” Elias called out, but there was no response. That night, he couldn’t sleep. Something gnawed at him, something he couldn’t quite name. He had worked hundreds of cases, seen the worst of humanity, yet Hollow Creek disturbed him in a different way. It was not just the disappearances—it was the eerie stillness of the town, as if it was holding its breath, waiting. The Town That Forgets The next morning, Elias questioned the families of the missing. Their responses unnerved him. They spoke vaguely about their lost loved ones, as if they were struggling to remember details. “I don’t know,” said Mrs. Carter, whose son had vanished. “He was just… here, and then he wasn’t.” “But what was he doing that day? Where was he last seen?” Elias pressed. She shook her head. “I can’t recall.” Each family had the same vacant expressions, the same hazy recollection. It was as if the town itself was erasing them. Determined to get answers, Elias pored over town records, hoping to find a pattern. And that’s when he noticed something strange—Hollow Creek had a history of disappearances. Every few decades, a handful of people would vanish. But what was most disturbing was that no one ever seemed to remember them for long. The records were incomplete, fragmented, as though the town had been rewriting its own history. The realization sent a shiver through him. This wasn’t just a case—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t explain with logic alone. The Shadow in the Alley That night, he returned to the alley, determined to see what lurked in the darkness. The flickering streetlamp cast long, distorted shadows. The air was thick, charged with something Elias couldn’t name. He stepped forward. And the world shifted. For a split second, he saw something—a doorway, pulsing with a dark energy, standing where the alley should be. A figure moved beyond it, its form indistinct, like a mirage. A whisper filled his ears. “You are not awake.” Then, everything snapped back to normal. The alley was just an alley again. The streetlamp flickered, the air was still, and Elias stood there, heart hammering. Had he imagined it? Or had he just glimpsed the truth? The Awakening The next day, he sought out the town’s oldest resident, a woman named Agnes Holloway. She had lived in Hollow Creek for nearly a century and knew its secrets. “The town forgets,” she said simply, sipping her tea. “It’s always forgotten.” Elias leaned forward. “Tell me what’s happening here.” Agnes studied him for a long moment. “Most people don’t see it. They go about their lives, unaware. But you? You’re waking up, aren’t you?” The words sent a chill through him. “This town exists on the edge of reality,” she continued. “Most of us live in a dream, convinced we are awake. But some… some start to see through the illusion. And when they do, the town takes them.” Elias swallowed hard. “Where do they go?” Agnes sighed. “Somewhere else. Somewhere beyond. They don’t just disappear, detective. They wake up.” His mind reeled. He had spent his entire life believing in facts, evidence, logic. But this? This was something else entirely. The Choice That night, Elias returned to the alley, heart pounding. If Agnes was right, then the missing people hadn’t been taken—they had left. The streetlamp flickered. The air thickened. And then, he saw it again—the doorway, shimmering just at the edge of perception. A figure stood beyond it. This time, Elias could see it clearly. It was himself. His reflection—except it wasn’t. This version of him looked… awake, truly awake, as if he had been sleepwalking his entire life. The figure reached out a hand. A whisper filled his mind. “Are you ready to see?” Elias hesitated. If he stepped through, would he vanish like the others? Would he cease to exist in Hollow Creek? Or would he finally understand? He took a deep breath. And stepped forward. The town of Hollow Creek would soon forget Elias Monroe. But somewhere, beyond the veil of ordinary reality, he was waking up.
By Sandra Amiedor2 years ago in Writers
Where the Wild Things Wait
The first time he saw her, she was singing. The sound drifted through the pines, light and uncertain, like birdsong after a long silence. It wasn’t a melody he knew, but the way it curled around the air made him stop in the snow, ears pricked forward, breath visible in the cold. She was sitting on the edge of a frozen stream, her hands cupped around something small—perhaps a stone, perhaps just warmth. He had never seen a human up close. He knew what they were, what they did, what they could do. But he had never seen one sit so still, singing softly to no one at all.
By Diane Foster2 years ago in Writers
When the Road Gets Tough: Why You Should Keep Going Even When You Feel Like Giving Up
Life is a journey filled with highs and lows, triumphs and setbacks. There are moments when everything seems to align perfectly, and then there are times when the weight of the world feels unbearable. If you’re reading this, chances are you’re in one of those tough moments—feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, and on the verge of giving up. But before you throw in the towel, take a deep breath and remember this: you are stronger than you think, and this moment does not define your future.
By Pranshu verma2 years ago in Writers
Dark Horse
Dark Horse Genre: Psychological Thriller/Drama Short Story: In the small, fog-drenched town of Black Hollow, everyone knew the legend of the "Dark Horse." It was said that once every decade, a mysterious black stallion would appear at the edge of the Whispering Woods, its eyes glowing like embers. Those who dared to approach it would either vanish without a trace or return with their deepest desires fulfilled—but at a terrible cost.
By Waqas Ashraf2 years ago in Writers
