Stream of Consciousness
Seeking The Facts Behind a Myth
Each individual alone judges what they have faith in from what life has taught them. Faith arrives when there is an interplay between mind and body, that forms a strong framework laid on strong foundations. Faith that information, from something larger that can transcend to the depth of the heart and enhance a spirit with confidence in a soul that sees past blindly believing in the causes of wars fought in the name of religious idealism or a way of life that imposes restrictions based on race, caste or the gender one is born into, often stems from the dignity of science, church and community. Through the nature of alchemy, astrology and theory, the brain sorts through what is repressed, unknown or ignored then disassociates preconceived ideas to bring honor and respect to the dead.
By Katherine D. Grahamabout 4 hours ago in Fiction
Sometimes It's Like That and That'sThe Way It Is
It was the late 1960s, and ten-year-old Gloria Coleman was standing with her grandmother on the side of the highway waiting for the bus. As the Greyhound pulled up, it seemed monstrous and intimidating. Grandma Elizabeth grabbed Gloria's hand, holding it tightly as they boarded.
By Cheryl E Prestonabout 5 hours ago in Fiction
Peace
Something's happening 'round here. Some folks just seem to be gettin' happy ever since Captain Groovy decided to run for public office. He decided to run as an independent on the Peace ticket and name the party the Groovy Party. The Groovy Party was the laughingstock of the political arena, their views on hate and violence were seen as ridiculous. No one took the party seriously, that is, until Captain Groovy became the party leader.
By John Scipioa day ago in Fiction
Shadow On The Ledge. Content Warning.
‘So, you think life has meaning, yet here you are on the ledge? That doesn't add up.’ ‘Yes, it does. Imagine wanting to die and standing there on the edge, facing death. At first, your whole life flashes before you—each disaster feels overwhelming, piling up. The emotions freeze you. But as you stand there, something changes. Slowly, those disasters lose their weight. Painful memories fade, and suddenly, you start remembering good moments you had overlooked. It’s like your mind finally breaks free from focusing only on the bad and shows you small signs of hope you hadn’t seen before.’
By Moon Desert3 days ago in Fiction
Echoes of Resistance
The streets of Bristol were alive that day, though not with the usual hum of buses and chatter, but with the heavy pulse of voices that demanded to be heard. I had not intended to join the protest—I came to observe, to write, to bear witness—but once I stepped into the swell of people, the energy was impossible to ignore. The banners waved above heads, each one a story, a demand, a prayer. The scent of rain-soaked asphalt mixed with the faint tang of chalk from hastily scrawled messages, leaving the air electric.
By imtiazalam4 days ago in Fiction
Where did February go?
Is it really already the middle of March? All of February has blurred into one vast memory, and I don’t know what I did or where it went. Outside, there was frost, and for the first time in a long while, Prague was wrapped in a white coat and stayed that way, the way winters used to be. Like the city, I wrapped myself up too, and from the safety of my home, I watched from beneath the covers how quickly life can pass by when one isn’t paying attention.
By George Roast5 days ago in Fiction
Real men drink, right?
He has a problem. He’s felt it for years now, but he refuses to face it. He doesn’t want to admit it, to himself or to the people around him. All his heroes were the same. He likes to recall the scene where James Bond sits in a dusty pub in Latin America, a glass of whiskey in hand, his gaze fixed on a scorpion crawling across the bar. When he first fell for literature, it was Post Office and Women, which he read over and over again. Without those cans of beer and bottles of cheap whiskey, Bukowski’s work wouldn’t have been so raw, so honest. Even Vaclav Havel spent most of his nights in Prague bars; without that, he wouldn’t have been who he was. Those were the real men.
By George Roast5 days ago in Fiction
New Normalcy
I and my team of five were at least convinced that the HEIST was not the result of greed; rather, it was due to the banking system's stupidly overinclined and ever-increasing reliance on biometric identity verification. We thought it would work in our favor, but in a hyper-digital world, the tragedy isn't just that the body fails but that the body's degradation outpaces the rigidity of the encryption.
By Viral Rana5 days ago in Fiction
Frisson. Content Warning.
I feel a smidge retarded up there, whirling upside down by the skin of my thighs. I like the outfit though. The leather feels good— it's a tactile thing. The chains on it feel cold and crisp when I snap it on. I feel like the Batman of sadomasochism.
By Noah Husband6 days ago in Fiction
