Psychological

When Hurt Changes Hands
The first time she said it, he believed her. They were at the kitchen table. Late. The overhead light was too bright, the kind that exposes flaws. She had just finished telling him that he was exhausting to be around, that his sensitivity made everything heavier than it needed to be.
By Jesse Lee2 months ago in Fiction
Unaccounted Dreams
Lydia sat on the edge of the sofa, never completely relaxed nor ready for anything either. She sipped tea politely listening to Erika's mumbling. Money on the brain. That's all she thinks of. Lydia knew they had everything needed or could ever want, but no, Erika always wanted more.
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)2 months ago in Fiction
Pot Belly
The sour smell of the basement resembled a garbage disposal. Flies, sweaty from the scorching summer, circled the fruits and vegetables, munching on flour and potatoes before settling on the compost bucket. They dined there for a while, discovering peace and freedom from human hands and a break from the endless circling air. After all, they were regulars, and which required respect.
By Moon Desert2 months ago in Fiction
Romantic Picnic For Two. Honorable Mention in Rituals of Affection Challenge.
The evening air hung heavy and hot, unseasonably warm for April. As the sun sank down, hovering just over the mountains in the distance, its angry glare blinded Tanya as she walked westward. Cursing herself for forgetting her sunglasses, she shifted the weight of the pack on her shoulders, letting a rivulet of sweat slip down her spine. Her feet angrily protested her choice to place fashion over function as the leather of her sandals chafed the back of her heel and sides of her toes. But Tanya didn't stop or slow. She moved forward, watching the trees in the distance grow closer with each step.
By A. J. Schoenfeld2 months ago in Fiction
A Monk, The Om, A Metronome . Top Story - February 2026.
David Harlann had spent 14 years as a field medic. The horrors of mangled bodies and shot-off limbs were commonplace to him. Just another Tuesday strewn with blood.
By Gabriel Shames2 months ago in Fiction
The Shell’s Call
Kaia wandered the sun-kissed shores of Cayo Costa each and every morning, collecting calcium carbonate treasures and listening to the gentle hum of churning ocean water.
By Madison "Maddy" Newton2 months ago in Fiction
Love as Consumption
I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. That inevitable crush. I knew as soon as I walked through the door, we’d have words — stern, unproductive words. The atmosphere choked me, the scent of Bolognese burned into the bottom of the pan reminding me why it’s best I do the cooking, and of the air of unfiltered bitterness that had been present for years.
By Paul Stewart2 months ago in Fiction
The Closed Door (Part I)
There was enough silence for the beats of my heart to resonate in my ears, each beat seemed to shrink the small room where I was, one more intense than the previous one. I didn't know what I was doing in a tub, but I was there, locked in a room that couldn't even be called a room; as small as a closet, painted in its most abandoned and sickly shade of green, with only an iron door. I had seen it for a moment, thinking there was something behind that door, but I lowered my head again and shifted uncomfortably in the tub. Yes, I was inside a dirty tub, but I felt safe in there, I didn't want to get out and I didn't want to look at the door again.
By Michelle2 months ago in Fiction
The Invisible Boy. Honorable Mention in Everyone Is Acting Normally Challenge.
It didn’t take Jason long to figure out he’d turned invisible overnight. When his mother walked through his bedroom that morning to open the window – as she did every morning, just to let him know he stank now that he was a teenager – she didn’t even look at him. She did look in his direction once, but her gaze went right through him, as if she was admiring the poster of Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas on the wall behind the bed. He even said ‘morning, mum,’ as she walked back across the room, which he never did. And she just kept going through the door, which she didn’t bother to close - it’s not like an invisible boy needs privacy to get dressed.
By Matthew Batham2 months ago in Fiction
Gifting. Winner in Rituals of Affection Challenge. Content Warning.
Ryan stood five foot eleven, or “six feet on a good day,” as he’d say. Broad shoulders braided with a cornucopia of muscle and smooth, preened, milky skin—free from tufts of coarse body hair thanks to thrice-weekly waxing appointments at Carefree, Hair Free! in the heart of Northalsted, AKA Boystown.
By Edward Swafford2 months ago in Fiction
The Sack. Content Warning.
Author’s Note: This story was originally written for a creative prompt and has since been revisited and revised. Though fictional, it draws inspiration from real historical atrocities and the destruction of thriving Black communities in America. The language within the journal entries reflects the prejudices of the era in which the fictional narrator lived. While certain terms have been softened, they are included to illuminate the cruelty and contradictions of that time, not to excuse or endorse them.
By Briya Shockley2 months ago in Fiction
The Witch’s Poisonous blood. Content Warning.
The beast bit into my flesh, and the wet, sucking sound of his sharp teeth tearing into skin, blood, muscle, and tendons made me nauseous.
By Minou J. Linde2 months ago in Fiction