Top Stories
Stories in Psyche that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Doubts at the Deadline
The Day of the Deadline Today was the last day to put forward my efforts. To say I was lacking in confidence was an understatement. It would be more realistic to say I was as close to just missing the deadline completely and being done with it all. To put it plainly, I was completely and utterly petrified. This wasn't even my first rodeo, so to speak, but my nerves never seemed to get any easier to manage. Still, though I wanted to put my work forward. Glutton for punishment, maybe? Even if I didn't win anything, which, of course, would be nice I sure I still had something of worth to share. However, I am left sitting here, as I have done so often in the past as the clock ticks towards the deadline, wondering if I actually really genuinely believe that or if I am just kidding myself that I am any good.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Psyche
Evelyn. Runner-up in Small Kindness Challenge.
The McKinney-Vento Homeless Assistance Act is a federal law that protects the educational rights of children and youth experiencing homelessness. The act was signed into law by President Ronald Reagan on July 22, 1987 and serves thousands of needy children each year.
By Cindy Calderabout a year ago in Psyche
My Friend Rooney
My friend Rooney is an Irishman. He drinks in a surprising methodical regimen. You can time him as the barkeep noted long ago. I see Garrett look at the clock, fetch another glass, fill it, then nod his head up, lockin’ eyes with Rooney. Rooney points his finger in appreciation. And then he tells a tale. He does like to tell tales, no Joyce, no Swift, but he keeps your faith with each new one. Once, when he was going through his divorce, the end of his first marriage, and the two of us were polluted at Garrett's. He told me this one of a well to do couple very much in love, but doomed. The wife had continuous fits of jealousy and also more than her share of vanity. She hired a chambermaid, a fair of face chambermaid. Her husband, who always appreciated beauty, would say behind his wife’s back that she hired the maid for her outward qualities. She wanted, per the husband, a pretty chambermaid as all things around her must be beautiful and, so she could yell at her husband for lookin’. The husband was a catch too, which also kept up her vanity and her jealousy. Anyways, after she hired the maid, the wife made sure her husband and maid were never left alone together. If he would go to the kitchen using some excuse, she would follow or call the maid to her. For six years she continued her vigilance until one day at the public bath house she realised that she had forgotten her silver wash basin and sent the maid to fetch it. The wife neglected that her husband was due back from work any minute and the maid ran home, recognizing the wife’s mistake. The two met at the front door. Without a word they went inside and embraced in a passion so quick they did not latch the door. The wife jumped at the bath house, knocking over her neighbour’s basin, when she became mindful of her folly and also sprinted home.
By G. Douglas Kerrabout a year ago in Psyche
Jake
I'm never sure what to expect when my partner and I arrive for these exchanges. Most of the time, the people we meet don't know, either. This was clearly no exception. When our little sedan pulled up to the curb, the young woman looked petrified. I stepped out of the vehicle and opened the back door. Jake bounded from the back seat and I released the breath I'd been holding. He was home!
By Dana Crandellabout a year ago in Psyche
The Exchange. Runner-up in Small Kindness Challenge. Content Warning.
Misty’s car made a gut-wrenching grinding noise as she pulled into the parking lot, pulling into a shaded spot near the back. The grinding, which happened just about every time she turned the wheel now, had become so loud and anxiety-provoking recently that it eclipsed the fact that her AC had conked out before summer even started. But now, sitting in the muggy shade, beads of sweat appeared almost instantly and unbidden on her top lip. Her muscles groaned, and her bowels cramped as if someone was tightening a vice. Her phone lit up with a text message, predictably from Cole:
By Elle Marieabout a year ago in Psyche
Bookworm
Dawson followed the boy and his teacher up the museum steps. He hoped the boy wouldn’t get in too much trouble. He liked him. They were the same age and they both had to deal with bullies. But things weren’t looking good. The math teacher was a total weirdo. There was no way this didn’t end badly for the boy.
By D.K. Shepardabout a year ago in Psyche
The Woman in the Cafe
The bell jingles against the door as yet another person walks into the cramped cafe. Unlike some of the others coming in on their lunch break, she comes in with a genuine smile, brightening up the space and I'm sure the barista's day. Poor girl has had a line of sour people today.
By Alexandria Stanwyckabout a year ago in Psyche
A Minor Inconvenience
Destinations and the reasons for them differ immeasurably. But plans of how people arrive to them are mostly made because of financial means. But not always. Sometimes it can be for convenience, time restraint, or even aerophobia/ fear of flying. For whatever the reason, Janie found herself travelling on the same Greyhound bus ride that night as the two elderly women she watched from the seat she had taken behind theirs. They looked to both be grandmothers.
By Shirley Belkabout a year ago in Psyche
The Empty Nest. Runner-up in Small Kindness Challenge.
I like it here. Big trees. There’s the wood, I like it there as well, but I like it here. Gaps between the trees. Grass and soil and the bird bath. I like it best when they’re not here. The people. The dog. There’s a cat, sometimes, on his way elsewhere. I like him least of all. And squirrels. Bothersome squirrels.
By Hannah Mooreabout a year ago in Psyche
Hope in the Darkness
I trudged through the supermarket aisles, my three children holding together. Jake, my eldest at 10, was trying his best to keep his younger siblings, Emma (7) and Liam (4), from creating chaos. I should have been grateful for his help, but all I felt was a deep, gnawing emptiness. I wanted to feel love for my kids, but instead there was void, which was sucking me into it, slowly, feeling a pressure and a loss of breath at the same time.
By Gabriela Trofin-Tatárabout a year ago in Psyche
