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New stories you’ll love, handpicked for you by our team and updated daily.
Staying sane in the insane world.
”It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.” Jiddu Krishnamurti This quote has been one of my favourites since the moment I first laid my eyes on it. To me, it cuts right through the fog of the illusion of normality that permeates our lives. And since I am someone who has never felt (well) adjusted to this society, Krishnamurti’s words gifted me with the realisation that there isn’t anything inherently wrong with me.
By Eva Smitte4 days ago in Humans
I was in a Toxic Relationship, with my Workplace
“You got that?” My ex yelled. His hands were balled into fists at his side. At six foot three, he towered over me. A normal person would have been afraid, but I looked up a video of George Lopez repeatedly saying, “I got this,” and showed it to him. I had grown used to this treatment, so much so that I didn’t blink when he ripped the phone from my hand and threw it across the room.
By Jade M.4 days ago in Confessions
Pearl
1980 something. we all hung out at Pearl and you and i were nothing special, or so i thought. i mean we all danced, drenched in our own sweat, our own saline solution of fear, too many beers, shots, laughter, tears, fucks in the bathroom and i don't know when we began to be afraid. do you?
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)5 days ago in Fiction
me, me, me
when i read back my poetry it screams “me, me, me” on my screen in bold letters and i can’t shut it up — most days, i cannot make any other words out; i want to throttle a thousand versions of the me gone by, i want to throw myself from a figurative balcony, i want to sink a sword into every pen i’ve held
By angela hepworth5 days ago in Poets
This Is What I Do When People Throw Rocks At Me
Rocks have been thrown at me for a greater part of my life. Some have been small and missed hitting me. When people don't get a reaction from me, they throw bigger rocks with a better aim. Many have been hurled at me with precision over the years. For a long time, I thought my only options were to dodge them or be crushed by them.
By Margaret Minnicks5 days ago in Confessions
When the Shelter Closes
Across the street from my house, a man slept under a tree, his dog by his side. My first, naive thought: he must be traveling through. But he kept coming back, often sleeping there during the day. Then it hit me—that person might not have a home.
By Bride of Sound5 days ago in Humans
Belle of the Bayou
Bad move, cher. Not just the slip of her kitten heel on the rainy February cobblestones in the Fourth Ward. She got caught snooping. Detective Deleon clucked and strutted like a rooster in his rush to clear her from the scene, waving cigar smoke to and fro as he gesticulated amid the thick air of the speak easy. An experienced crime reporter, Marie knew better than to let the coppers catch her on the wrong side of the line, but curiosity had gotten the better of her.
By Maia Gadwall the metAlchemist8 days ago in Fiction
