in another world, a dream catcher is not an object. he is a boy with ribs like an open birdcage, standing at the edge of the city, mouth open, waiting. he swallows the dreams people don’t want. the ones they sweat out in the night—falling, mother drowning, hands reaching but never touching. he takes them in like communion, lets them settle under his skin, a kaleidoscope of other people’s ghosts.

...

I wake up to the familiar hum of the fluorescent light overhead. Fuck, it’s always that same annoying buzz. It’s like it’s mocking me, taunting me every goddamn day. Or is it even day? Time doesn’t exist here. I don’t have a fucking clue if it’s morning, afternoon, or the dead of night. I’ve lost track.

I roll over on my bed, the scratchy blanket brushing against my skin. It smells like stale s...

When all hope is lost, what do we rely on?

There’s this feeling, you know, when everything falls apart. Like you’re floating in some dark void, but it’s not as poetic as it sounds. It’s more like you’re drowning in a place where air should be. And maybe no one sees it. They just keep asking why you look so tired.

But you’re not tired. You’re empty.

You try to remember what it was like befor...

Imagine a world where dreams are sold in jars at the corner store. You could buy someone else’s wildest fantasies, bottled up for your own consumption. But here’s the twist: every time you indulge, you lose a piece of your own dreams. Write a story or poem exploring the consequences of this trade-off. How far would you go to live someone else’s dream?...

The plan was flawless. We’d spent months mapping every inch of the bank, memorizing guard schedules, and rehearsing our moves until we could do them in our sleep. Everything was set for tonight. The heist was going to be perfect.

I felt the adrenaline rush as we slipped into the bank, the cool, metallic scent of the vault mingling with the faint smell of leather from our gloves. My heart pounde...

Amidst the wreckage of my shattered life, I emerged—a lone figure driven by a thirst for justice, fueled by the flames of revenge burning in my heart. The air was heavy with the scent of smoke and desperation, and my senses were overwhelmed by the chaos surrounding me.

I stood there, my hands trembling with rage, as I surveyed the destruction. The flames licked at the remains of what was once m...

— christian themes (end of times)

As I lay upon the soft, golden fields of the Lord’s kingdom, I gazed up at the sky in awe. The creatures danced above us in the clouds, their forms radiant with the light of heaven. I had not expected to find a world as amazing as this, where every sight, sound, and sensation filled me with an overwhelming sense of peace and joy.

The air was alive with the s...

Ever had those moments where life feels like it’s playing a grand cosmic joke on you? Well, my life was full of such moments, and my latest escapade in the world of corporate consulting was no exception.

Picture this: a busy airport, people bustling about, the familiar scent of overpriced coffee in the air, and me, with my roller bag racing against time to catch a connecting flight.

Cue our fir...

In a world where secrets whispered through the trees,

Lived Elara, confined by life's decree.

Her cottage nestled deep in a mystic wood,

Where the window held the world, both bad and good.

Each morning's song, the birds' sweet serenade,

Their melodies in her heart forever stayed.

She'd dream of touching petals, vibrant and bright,

But through the glass, her fingers took no flight.

With dawn, the...