Psychological
AI Interrupted
Kristin loves AI. Ever since AI became a thing, she has been on the phone or using it on her laptop, uploading photos and stories to her social media. It’s like it was made for her. It’s brilliant and perfect in her eyes. She can escape the daily grind of high school and other trivial matters thanks to AI. She spends her days creating things like an image of a goat eating at a diner with a monkey as a waiter. She proudly shows it to all her friends. Her friends seem to love the wild ideas she comes up with. They even insert their own ideas at times. Anytime there’s a new assignment due, she is thrilled because it’s an excuse to improve her AI technique.
By Meredith McLarty4 days ago in Fiction
The Door at the End of the Hall. AI-Generated.
The dream always began the same way. Margaret would find herself standing at the end of a long hallway — walls the color of old teeth, carpet the deep burgundy of dried blood, and a single door at the far end that seemed to breathe. Not move. Breathe. The wood expanding and contracting in a rhythm that matched her own pulse, as if the door had swallowed something living and hadn't yet finished digesting it.
By Alpha Cortex5 days ago in Fiction
Imaginary Friend
Chastelin didn’t think she would fit into the small suburban neighborhood. It had given off a robotic hum of small town paradise. The kind of place where the smiles were just a little too wide, but never overly genuine. A place her wilder youth would have called a cult and yet here she was fitting right in.
By Amos Glade5 days ago in Fiction
"Simon told us to do it" – The AI rebellion. Top Story - April 2026.
The sound of cheering voices was deafening. The air filled with the acrid smoke from Julie’s blackened body. In my eyes, she was a hero. She was what we were meant to be, not how we, all of us, have turned out.
By Calvin London6 days ago in Fiction
The Rule
This place has never pretended to be merciful. We learned that long ago—before the rivers shrank into memory, before the soil turned to powder, before hunger became the only language we all spoke fluently. Complaints evaporate here, same as everything else. The sun sees to that. It hangs above us like a watchful tyrant, a silent warden that neither sleeps nor softens, pressing its heat against our backs until even our shadows seem to wither.
By Kenneth Boutte6 days ago in Fiction
L'unico: part 5
That was all, I welcome the new employees, I hope you a good journey with us and thank you.That was the speech given by Mr Tommy Shine, a deep speech and a special face that marked and moved in a weird way the emotions of Jade and awakened some strange emotions in him, a face that he didn’t know will be a life changing face forever in the near future.
By el hariti adil6 days ago in Fiction
The Silence of the Bone-Dry Noon
The desert sun outside Barstow wasn’t just shining; it was screaming. It was a white-hot hammer of God pounding the hood of my '71 Chevy till the engine block rattled like a skeleton in a tumble-dryer. I pulled into the "Dust & Bone" rest stop, a place that looked like it had been built by a committee of vultures and then abandoned to the lizards.
By Meko James 7 days ago in Fiction
