Existential Stories

Impetus: The force with which a body is driven or impelled.... Nascar superstar, MIKEY ANGELO suffers a harsh fall from grace after an accident that nearly kills him. But his brush with mortality pales to that of his brush with humility, and worst of all, anonymity as he follows the long road back to the apex of racing glory with an improbable run for the F1 World Championship. START YOUR ENGINES... BUCKLE UP... AND HANG ON TIGHT for this high-octane 'speed-saga' of life, death, love, sex, money, and endurance, all in pulse-pounding pursuit of the ultimate prize - with every delicious reward it contains: Glory. Adulation. Fame... and one more thrilling victory lap in the coolest, fastest car.

In the Concord, love is a program, not a feeling. At twenty-two, Liova gets a chance to find a partner before the system quietly decides she's better off alone. At a government-run "coupling party," recycled decorations, endless tests, and a scripted speech are the only things standing between her, failure... and the handsome stranger who might be worth it all. The Concord is never as it seems. I hope you all find the hints along the way as to what is to come. What appears to be a love story might be far more sinister under the surface. Remember, there's always calm before the storm ⛈️ I'm updating this part regularly until it's complete, so come join the journey. 💕

Jay never wanted to be a protagonist. A design student with a fractured past and a mind wired for patterns, he only stepped into the shadows of his universe out of boredom-and accident. What begins as harmless curiosity becomes a survival problem when the world he studied from a distance all his life suddenly doesn't follow it's own rules. In the center of it all are people he doesn't know, and can only think of meeting - In a universe built for someone else, Jay learns to read the system, exploit its rules, and carve a place for himself before reality decides his role for him.

(TW: ED) Content Warning: This poem contains themes of illness, self-harm, emotional pain, and intense feelings of emptiness and body image issues. It may be triggering for some readers. Please read with care. Description: A deeply personal exploration of struggle and longing. I wrote this poem with honesty as my goal. I left the elegance and cleanliness of my usual writing and went for the raw, honest, personal and even mildly haunting nature of illness.

Naliang is quiet. Too quiet. Ankita, 22, arrives for a short research trip- and the village shifts the moment she steps in. People watch her. Too long. Too still. Faces repeat. Stories loop. Rooms move when she isn't looking. Something in Naliang is wrong. Deeply wrong. Something that hides behind kindness and slips into the empty spaces of her life. The longer Ankita stays, the less she trusts her memory, her instincts, her own reflection. Because in Naliang, danger doesn't chase you. It waits. And it learns. And it gets closer. ___________ This is my first time writing and publishing a psychological thriller story, and it is a slow burn horror so I hope you trust the story as it will be worth it. I hope you will like it and help me improve. Thank you all for reading! Disclaimer: There are themes of violence and gore in the later chapters which might upset a few readers. Copyrights © by aniya_lee

The book is written in the spirit of Dune, Hyperion, Expansion, Foundation. In a future where androids have found freedom and humanity fears death, three fugitives discover alien artifacts that awaken two hostile gods. Now faith becomes a weapon and reason is a battleground for the fate of the universe.

A hyper advanced tin can gets taught humanity by a highschool girl

When the mysterious SAM JETT goes missing from his downtown Paris apartment in broad daylight, it's up to estranged son, David Drake to piece together the circumstances of a larger than life man's larger-than-life life. All while unravelling the many strands that made him who he became. But is it too late to save him? Or will the timing be perfect as usual for this always-lucky old flyboy? The answer could go all the way down to the Minute-Mark.

Fra is shaped by self-awareness, trauma, contradicting thoughts and feelings, and by being a failed nihilist all at once. He sees the world with unforgiving clarity and retells his experiences with a disgustingly honest, almost too-confessional voice; shameful thoughts, taboo urges, the parts that make us "bad" friends, and the desires we can't shake off. Therapy was supposed to fix him, yet all it ever did was make him more painfully aware of everything wrong. He knew the causes, the patterns, the diagnoses-none of it helped. He walked into every session already knowing the answers and walked out with nothing to do with them. A mind that understands itself too well and still can't heal is its own kind of hell. Despite wanting to be numb, he isn't numb enough to stop caring-yet not hopeful enough to start living the way he, or society, insists he should. Knowing exactly what's wrong yet having no idea what to do with that knowledge is only one of the many tortures his emotional intelligence has handed him. [This story is a 1st person view based one, Fra and the author are not the same person characters Like Ivan or other ones may be based on real experiences but aren't real people and made up]

The story continues as the mysterious warden of Zig-Zig is eventually informed about Herschel's escape. Against every principle of his precious Dalmicir school, Lyeasrakardsul submits and asks the Knomes for help before finally receiving the dreaded p-wyrd. Herschel is arrested as a chicken thief and brought to the town Stagna where he has been prejudged as a p-e-r-v-e-r-t by popular opinion, and where he will have some of the most significant encounters in his life.

Set in the sleepy seaside town of Paradise Point, the locals are preparing for yet another quiet offseason. We follow Mac Grimbridge as he unwillingly discovers something terrible lurking below the boardwalk.

The sky is never seen the same way again. A colossal alien presence settles over Earth - not as an invasion, but as a permanence. From a New York rooftop, one man watches the world unravel as truth fractures, power rewrites reality, and humanity slowly learns what it means to live beneath something that will never leave. This is not about the end of the world. It's about what's left when it doesn't. Our Ordinary First Contact is an original short story written by J. R. McGee III

After a mysterious hallway appears in his home, Trevor is pulled into a bizarre new desk job in a world he doesn't understand. While he struggles to learn strange skills, survive otherworldly adventures, and figure out how to get home, his family is left behind dealing with his sudden and unexplainable dissappearance.

Joe is not the only one who seeks the truth whenever he can, some seeks achievement, and others seek revenge. Some cares for the whole world! But how does each of them stumbles upon each other and casts irreversible ripples in each other's path?

In the shadowed hours when sleep evades the weary soul, we builds altars from the fragments of a fractured world-raw free verse that confronts the ego's crushing weight and the digital haze of modern exile. Drawing from the grit of noir nights and the quiet fire of Catholic introspection, these poems unearth resilience amid PTSD's echoes, Ozark folklore's whispers, and a faith that questions yet clings to Christ's sacrifice in the stranger's gaze. Here, beauty blooms in imperfection: an outlaw's crown forged from internal turmoil, societal manipulations, and the slow, deliberate repair of a GenX heart scarred by life's dust and screen-lit nihilism. With a gravelly edge and a defiant grace, it champions practical gratitude over grand illusions-inviting you to linger at these insomniac altars, where transformation whispers louder than the chaos. Perfect for readers craving poetry that bleeds honesty, critiques the rush of progress, and finds divinity in the everyday grind. Discover the spark of one blood's cry in a collection that lingers like a half-remembered dream.

Every night at 3:07 a.m., Faye dreams of memories that haven't happened yet. And every morning, one of them comes true. When her dreams begin showing a boy who remembers her, Faye realizes she's living in a rewritten world - one that has forgotten the timeline she came from. Now, time itself is folding, cities vanish overnight, and the moon hums with echoes of erased lives. To fix what was lost, Faye must uncover who she really is - and why the future still remembers her name. "Every morning, she woke up in a slightly different world - one that had forgotten something she still remembered."

☾ I thought angels don't die, But thanks for coming... ☾ With love, Amanda Krey♡

She wrote letters to herself-soft, aching words no one was meant to read. In every page, she asks why? why she isn't anyone's favorite? why she feels unseen? and why the silence hurts more than anything. Twenty letters. One girl. A voice fading in the quiet-hoping someone, somewhere, will finally listen.

Your mind is a burning room, a drowning storm, and a torturing fairy-tale all at once. Now, descend through its layers and discover what waits in the one place even the flames can't reach. Sad Sundays is my weekly space to share melancholic poetry, words that help me navigate the stillness, the weight, and the quiet storms of recovery. Each Sunday, I post a new piece that I've written, using poetry to process my journey through detox and rehab, to face the difficult parts of healing, and to find meaning in the silence. Every poem is written by hand with help from the Rhymezone platform. This series is as much for me as it is for anyone who finds comfort in knowing they're not alone on their gray days. I will eventually try to tie most of my work together into a larger piece, but first and foremost, this will function as a collection of my writings while I am going through detox. There may be an underlying story, but perhaps not. Find out next week, and join me for a Sad Sunday moment. New Upload every Sunday at 18:00 (6 PM) German time - CET/CEST (UTC+1/UTC+2).