Psychological
Ascension Day
Welcome, everyone, to our coverage of one of the most important days in our calendar. Ascension Day. Stay tuned for a brief history lesson into when and why Ascension Day became so important, interviews with members of The Ascended, and all you could ever want to know about the Intake of 2086. We will speak to the individuals shaping our future and the families they will be assigned to life with.
By Paul Stewartabout 13 hours ago in Fiction
The Inversion
March 30th, 2027: The Day the World Turned Inside Out No one screamed. That was the first strange thing. On March 30th, 2027, the sun rose in the west. Not dramatically. Not in a cinematic blaze. It simply appeared where it did not belong — quiet and confident, as if it had always preferred that direction.
By Flower InBloomabout 16 hours ago in Fiction
The 30 Percent Armor
My bathroom is a minefield I know by heart. Every tile under my bare feet has its own temperature, every bottle on the shelf its own weight and texture. This is my sanctuary, my little staging ground for practicing “normal” before I step out and put on the mask I’ve spent years carving. This morning is particularly rough. The fog in my left eye—the one that checked out years ago, a late-coming bill from a war injury that finally came due—has started bleeding into the right. A recent ablation did its job, but it left the world looking like a water-damaged oil painting. I see about thirty percent of reality. The other seventy? I fill that in with memory, gut instinct, and pure, raw spite.
By Feliks Karića day ago in Fiction
The Weight of Unfinished Melodies. AI-Generated.
The dust motes in Julian’s apartment didn’t just float; they performed a slow, agonizing ballet in the shafts of the late afternoon sun. To Julian, they looked like the debris of a thousand forgotten conversations, settling on the mahogany surface of a piano that hadn't felt the warmth of human fingertips in over a decade. He sat in his velvet armchair, a glass of amber liquid trembling slightly in his hand, watching the shadows stretch across the floorboards like ink spilling over a pristine map.
By Cordelia Vancea day ago in Fiction
