Psychological
Whispers in the Mist.
Once upon a time in the quaint little town of Willowbrook, nestled deep within the heart of the misty Appalachian Mountains, there were two unlikely friends, Lucy and Jasper. They lived in houses just across the cobblestone street from each other. Lucy, a retired librarian with a penchant for mystery novels, was known for her sharp wit and attention to detail. Jasper, on the other hand, was the town's aging locksmith, whose nimble fingers and quiet demeanor concealed an insatiable curiosity.
By Go Entrepreneur2 years ago in Fiction
The Silent Symphony
In the bustling heart of the city, where words flowed like a river, there lived a man named Theodore who firmly believed in the power of silence. He was not a man of many words; instead, he chose to communicate through his actions and expressions. While others around him babbled incessantly, Theodore remained silent, observing the world with keen eyes.
By Esther Anima2 years ago in Fiction
Friendship Day Journey
There once lived two best friends named Ella and Jacob in a charming little village tucked away amid undulating hills and flowing streams. Since they were young children, they had been friends, and their friendship was as strong as any chain. In their community, their relationship was the stuff of tales, inspiring those who believed in the value of real connection with a ray of hope.
By Esther Anima2 years ago in Fiction
Garbage pollutes the environment
This book serves as a wake-up call to the alarming waste crisis our society faces. It emphasizes the immense amount of waste generated and the negative impact it has on the environment. The book offers potential solutions and strategies to address this crisis, urging readers to confront the issue rather than turning a blind eye to it. By highlighting the extent of our wasteful habits and proposing effective measures, the book hopes to inspire individuals and communities to take action and find sustainable solutions to our monstrous waste problem.
By Shakib Hasan2 years ago in Fiction
Scary stepfather
I was a happy kid when I with my mom and dad. One day my father was died due to health issues.my mother got married another men. I was happy I will get beautiful family agian .My stepfather always hated me. When my mother married him and he moved into our house, my life became a living hell. He found fault with every little thing I did and was constantly shouting at me and calling me names. In his eyes, I could never do anything right. I got fear to speak with him Iam mentally emotionally weak I don't want anyone in my life I didn't share anything to anyone i got fear if i tell anyone he will beat me again.
By Kalpana Dhaya2 years ago in Fiction
A Love Lost
Sarah had waited many painful long weeks for this goodbye. She sat on the beach waiting for her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend Thomas to arrive. Tears were filling her eyes like an overflowing river as she tried to work out what to say. She decided that silence was better. She would hold his hand, look into his eyes, and say nothing as she walked away.
By Carol Ann Townend2 years ago in Fiction
Holy Terra. Second Place in 2023 Vocal Writing Awards - Science Fiction. Content Warning.
The stench of blood was thick in the recycled air. Its metallic reek stuck to the new captain’s throat even as the auto-scrubbers got to work removing it from circulation. She didn’t think that she would ever forget the stench, the taste of the air, or the feeling of her knife grinding against the old captain’s ribs.
By Alexander McEvoy2 years ago in Fiction
Witch Hill
Atop a platform in a field of marsh and green a dwelling stands against the test of time and as I found it long ago, lost in another time and place. It seemed to me as if it had been forgotten and abandoned long ago by the original inhabitants of the dwelling, but too it seemed as if it were holding that small secret that needed to be opened. I had thought to myself of that cold and damp location, it sent shills up my spine but still gave hope to me as if I were the only one to be able to break the curse that it held on itself and nay once be occupied again by that of the living and breathing.
By William L. Truax III2 years ago in Fiction
