Psychological
The Shape of What She Didn't Say
I. Catalog She did not tell him she found his laugh too loud for restaurants. She did not correct him when he introduced her as his girlfriend to his mother, though they had been on four dates and she had not agreed to this.
By Destiny S. Harrisabout 2 hours ago in Fiction
Seven Days a Week, I Return to Her
I usually wake up before my alarm sounds off because she hums before dawn, not audibly, but in the way a thought hums when it has been rehearsed so often it no longer needs sound. The apartment is dim, the city is still deciding whether it will wake me or leave me alone, and I pad across the floor to where she waits. She is matte black and silver, unassuming in profile, yet somehow radiant when the light hits the curve of her handles. I place my hand on her console the way some people touch a pulse point, and the day aligns itself. Seven days a week, without fail, I climb aboard and let the rhythm find me. This is not an exercise. This is a return.
By Anthony Chanabout 2 hours ago in Fiction
Tuesday at Six
Insults were her only amusement. If I were to bring anything now, it is the beauty inside me. Within. No? Don’t I bring enough? For a man, it seems not. Yet, still, there’s a bucket in my hand. No toilet that I could flush; yet, without security, I don’t bring enough.
By Caitlin Charltonabout 15 hours ago in Fiction
Tea Time
Like every morning, Ester watched as trembling hands lifted the robin’s egg blue teapot and poured the amber liquid into a matching teacup. Louis’ hands were wrinkled, weathered, calloused from years of work. She still loved holding those hands across the small kitchen table as they talked. She remembered doing it for fifty years, the hands had changed but they felt the same. It was a good day when she could think back over the years. It was better in the mornings. The fog of sleep when she woke up lifted and she remembered his name, but in a couple hours it wasn’t guaranteed.
By Raine Fieldera day ago in Fiction
Where Do You Go When the Story Doesn’t End?
Sometimes stories end because the book is actually finished. Others abruptly stop because the reader has fallen asleep. But sometimes the story keeps going simply because it's developed a mind of its own, leaving you to keep turning the pages without noticing.
By Shannon Hilsona day ago in Fiction
Vision of Amaya. Content Warning.
Amaya woke suddenly, the ice cold grip of early morning air ripping her out of a nightmare. All was quiet. The sun had not yet bathed the hills in its light. The birds were silent, waiting for the sunlight to reach across the world and warm their feathers. Dawn was still a couple hours away.
By Madison "Maddy" Newton2 days ago in Fiction
