Psychological

Calculated Manipulation. Content Warning.
The air felt heavy. Or maybe that was just me. My breath was heavy. My chest filled up quickly, letting out the air much quicker than it was letting inside. God. You just sat on the other end of the couch. Your body slumped over the couch with your feet kicked up on the coffee table. Your hands covering your eyes as if you were afraid to look at me. Why couldn't you look at me? Why couldn't you face what you've done? The television screen was lit, yet no picture was shown. Only were there colors bouncing off the cracks of the screen; the cracks which appeared after you tried to put your fist through the picture. God. Was that what you didn't want to face? Your hands uncovered your face. Your head still remained resting on the back of the couch, while your feet were propped up on the coffee table. I've always hated the way you would prop your feet up on the table but there's no way I'm correcting you now.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet2 years ago in Fiction
Humanity
My body shook and my arm ached. I could taste the dirt in my mouth and feel the wet uncomfortable mud soaking through my pants, working its way through my underwear as well. My lips were dry, my head ached, and all around, nothing but noise and battle. My eyes were stinging from the smoke. The smell of blood and metal filled the air. And despite all the commotion, despite the ache in my muscles, I sat as still as a rock.
By Aythan Maconachie2 years ago in Fiction
Ava’s mind
I'm sitting here, looking out the window at the falling leaves, and I can't help but think about all the things I've experienced in my life so far. It's been a journey of ups and downs, but I know I'm ready to start over. I'm ready to let go of the past and embrace the future.
By Abidemi Moses2 years ago in Fiction
Play It Again. Top Story - October 2023.
Gentle music drifted through the bar, lingering around the quiet tables with their smiling faces and companionable silences. It was not a night for loud talk or boisterous laughing. It was a weeknight, the war was long finished, and the revelry for the returning soldiers long buried in the mundanity of life.
By Alexander McEvoy2 years ago in Fiction
Hidden
Ryan lay on his stomach on the living room floor with his legs in the air. Crayon in hand, he focused on adding colour to his best drawing to date. He couldn't wait to show his mother when she returned home, but he had to finish it first. Desperately seeking the full 'wow factor' when he showed her. He knew she would be ever so proud of him, and if he was lucky, it might just gain pride of place on the refrigerator.
By Sian N. Clutton2 years ago in Fiction
Hush. Runner-Up in Unspoken Challenge. Top Story - October 2023.
Olivia trembled as she brought her knees to her chest and tried to make herself as small as possible. She lay on the floor in the dark and watched as dust floated down from the wooden slats above her, caught in the beam of light that leaked through the gap in her bedroom door. Her heart thundered, threatening to give away her position as she listened nervously.
By Sian N. Clutton2 years ago in Fiction
The Haunting of Willowbrook Manor
Chapter 1: The Enigmatic Estate Nestled at the edge of a dense, ancient forest, Willowbrook Manor was a looming, eerie mansion with a history shrouded in mystery. Its walls whispered secrets that sent shivers down the spines of those who dared to approach. The locals called it the "House of Shadows," and for good reason.
By Designers Gang2 years ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Forgotten Forest
In the heart of a land untouched by time, there lay a forest hidden from the world. This forest, known only to a few, held secrets that dated back centuries. It was a place where myths and legends became reality, where the trees whispered forgotten tales to the wind, and the very earth seemed to breathe with ancient magic. This was the Forgotten Forest.
By Esther Anima2 years ago in Fiction
The Trip Back
I sat on the corner of my pitch black bedroom floor hugging my knees tightly against my chest. My eyes were open widely as I kept repeating a silent prayer. I couldn’t bring myself to close them, not even for a minute. With my heart thumping loudly, threatening to tear past my ribcage and leap out onto the floor. I couldn’t risk a panic attack that I knew I was seconds away from. I was shivering with every nerve-wrecking breath that I took. The thunder that was erupting outside did nothing for my nerves. I couldn’t figure out what was going on in the rest of the house.
By yonela mtsi2 years ago in Fiction
The Guilty Letters
It was the third Friday of the month when she received not a letter, but a note in the post. It wasn’t all fluttering from the slit in the door and it wasn’t in any kind of envelope. It was just a folded piece of paper that lay gently upon a pile of bills. It wasn’t addressed to anyone and so, living alone, she assumed it was for her and unfolded it. It read one, simple line: I know what you did. There was no sender, no ‘from’ and certainly no ‘yours truly’. She had no idea what this note meant or where it had come from, but she did know that she was already late for her shift at the bank that morning due to staring intently at the note in her hand for almost twenty minutes.
By Annie Kapur2 years ago in Fiction
Yours, Truly
All she ever dreamt of having was to get a taste of something different; anything different. A new life. A new beginning. All she's ever wanted was the taste of the type of life she's only dreamt of having. You know the one. The life where havoc was all that was known to the sole perpetrator. The life where you couldn't know whether a person was good or bad; either you trusted everyone, or trusted no one. That life. That's the life she wanted to take a bite out of. Just a taste. Just to get a feel of something... anything... different from her own.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet2 years ago in Fiction
Soli. Content Warning.
soli (Italian) /ˈsəʊlɪ/ adjective, adverb (plural of solo) - (of a piece or passage) to be performed by or with soloists "Dig deep, drink water, hold fast. Dig deep, drink water, hold fast..." Sprinkling the last of the juice of the apples she picked that morning, Isbell nearly completed her counterclockwise circle in the soil of her aunt's garden before Agnes scampered right in front of her, scattering the dirt across her boots.
By Alivia Varvel2 years ago in Fiction