Stream of Consciousness

On and on: The Static Object . Content Warning.
Sunday February 8th, 2026 5:43 AM He wakes before the sun and regrets it. He’s not even sure what woke him. The house is quiet as ever.
By Sam Spinelli18 days ago in Fiction
The Lantern in the Fog
The fog settled over the village like a blanket soaked in silence. At first it was gentle, wrapping the streets in a quiet hush. But as night deepened, it thickened into something heavier, almost alive, crawling along the cobblestones and slipping into the cracks of every home. It was not the kind of fog that simply blurred the edges of things. This fog carried a chill that touched the marrow, a weight that pressed on the heart, and whispered doubts in voices that sounded eerily familiar.
By Sound and Spirit19 days ago in Fiction
Perfectly Preserved Envy.
My youth is perfectly preserved in a special wallet within the mind palace of my existence. Every so often, I open the wallet - frown and grimace at her lovely soft chocolate exterior - my once richly layered lovely young self. Oh, how I have become so envious, when I compare her to my convoluted and annoying mature self.
By Novel Allen19 days ago in Fiction
The Course of True Love
For months I have admired you from afar. Across the office floor, I drink in every detail of you as if you are a rich red wine. I dream of the life we could have together. I picture our first date, the wedding that will follow, our house, even the children we will have. A boy and a girl, one for me and one for you.
By Sebastian Swift19 days ago in Fiction
The Shape the Memory Requires
Serenity accomplished. Silence restored. Power comes from necessity. Not protection. Fear. Uncertainty bleeds. Trust was never promised.
By Paul Stewart19 days ago in Fiction
Eyes
I was seven years old the first time I got married. I remember the weight of the dress before I remember my own name. It was heavy and white and warm, like it had been waiting for me longer than I had been alive. The fabric pressed against my shoulders with a seriousness I did not yet understand. The room was filled with the aroma of flowers I couldn’t name, their scent thick and unfamiliar; and the walls seemed older than the building that held them as if the space itself had been borrowed for the occasion. There were people there. I remember that much. Their voices softened as I entered, the way voices do when something inevitable is about to happen. No one smiled too widely. No one whispered. They all seemed like a blurry memory; a background character of my story. I am even unsure of the season but I do know I wanted to hold onto the feeling and the intensity of the dream; and take it with me but I couldn’t remember everything once I woke up.
By Cadma20 days ago in Fiction
The 12:33 from Ipswick
- At 12:33, the Ipswick–London local departs Platform 4. - At 12:47, the conductor discovers a passenger slumped in Seat 22B.
By Novel Allen21 days ago in Fiction
Doing the Right Thing Poorly. Winner in Mismatch Challenge. Content Warning.
Get tae fuck outta mah face. That’s what ah said tae him. Ah suppose yer probably wondering why ah’m writing this. Well, without sounding all philosophical and all that pish — why does anyone dae anything? Anyone write anything?
By Paul Stewart23 days ago in Fiction
Strange Infomercial
*TELEVISION BLIP* The salesman walks slow, stiff with borrowed confidence and an odd-colored suit. "What are you in the market for?"
By Kristen Keenon Fisher24 days ago in Fiction
The Duelist. Top Story - November 2025.
The rays of a dying red sun flashed against the onrushing blade. The grey beards say the key to dueling lies in size, speed, reach, righteous fury, whatever the person in front of them pays them to say. Matteo knew better than any it was none of these and had an undefeated record on these sands to prove it.
By Matthew J. Fromm24 days ago in Fiction
Layer of Permission
The first thing Mara noticed was that no one ever said no anymore. They said not available, pending review, outside your tier, not at this time; you know when the words were polite. Bloodless. They floated past her like customer service ghosts.
By Cadma24 days ago in Fiction
Put Emotion on Hold
I am taking a break, for I have been thinking too much, about everything and things are coming unglued. So this is my attempt to glue them back together again. In the grand scheme of things, no one cares who I leave my little treasures too, and perhaps I think too much, after all they are just things in the long run,
By Susan Payton25 days ago in Fiction