histórias de Psychologicalfiction

A brilliant, emotionally isolated engineer builds an AI designed to mirror his own mind, only to discover-after living an entire alternate life-that understanding reality means relinquishing the need to control it.

Atarah Madden has spent her life learning how to survive. At eighteen, she balances school, work, and family responsibilities, carrying the weight of adulthood far too early. Each day demands strength she barely has left, and each night feels shorter than the last. Reality is relentless, unforgiving, loud, and exhausting. But when Atarah sleeps, the world softens. In her dreams, she meets Azriel Lee Haynes, someone who listens, understands, and gently challenges the walls she's built around herself. Through quiet conversations and places she's never been, Atarah finds peace she can't seem to reach when she's awake. As the line between dreaming and living begins to blur, Atarah must face a question she's been avoiding for years: Is escaping reality the only way to survive it or is learning to wake up the braver choice? A slow-burn, emotional story about loneliness, hope, and the courage it takes to face life when running feels easier.

A man who feels like fate. A love that sounds like care. A story never questioned. This is not a romance. It's the moment before a woman disappears into one. This is my entry for the „Wuthering Heights" Reimagined Contest. Gentle readers welcome - honest critique even more. If something here feels familiar, that's not an accident ;)

A short story about memory, identity, and finding home after loss.

Desperate to escape reality, you agree to be connected to the dream machine. The machine uses your memories to build a dream reality. it puts you into an eternal dream and erases every memory that you have from the real world. this story is the journey of escaping your own mind

How many deaths must a soul endure before it becomes whole? A Life by a Thousand Death is a confession made out loud. Not to be forgiven. Not to be saved. To be witnessed. It moves the way memory moves when it is honest, recursive, unfinished, and allergic to clean timelines. What I call the past is not behind me. It is in my throat. It is in my sleep. It is in the way my body prepares for loss before anything has happened. I was called a miracle before I was old enough to understand what that word demands. Later, I was treated like a burden, as if the miracle had expired and only the cost remained. My family did not pass down stories. It passed down rules. Some were spoken. Most were enforced through silence. A person learns quickly what cannot be named without consequences. A person learns to live with gaps, and to call them normal. Each chapter is a record of what had to be cut away to keep going. A belief. A name. A future. Sometimes innocence. Sometimes tenderness. Sometimes it's the simple ability to ask for what I needed without feeling guilty for having needs at all. These are deaths of the soul. Some are quiet enough to hide inside a regular day. Some are loud enough to rearrange the whole house. If you are looking for redemption, you will not find it here. This is not a story about healing. It is a ritual for the in-between. For the ones who kept living when living stopped feeling holy. For the ones who learned that survival is not always a victory, sometimes it is just a continuation. What survives is not hope. Not the kind people sell. What survives is the body still moving. Jaw locked. Lungs dragging air. Steps taken without consent. A life carried forward on discipline, stubbornness, and the strange refusal to disappear. Unholy. Unforgiven. Alive.

"Never trust a survivor until you learn what they did to survive." Thinking about trying to describe the whole story in just one sentence gives me an aneurysm, but here's what you can expect: psychological tests, found family, feminine rage, accurate mental health depiction, alternate realities, confusing twists and turns, odd goings-on, diverse characters, mystery, survival instinct, etc. All my writing is completely clean while still being intense, heavy, and plot- and character-focused. This story is my 5-year-long, work-in-progress, pride and joy. So, while I am here seeking as much constructive criticism as I can get, please handle with tact :)

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.

They never broke up. They just stayed long enough to forget what love felt like. No fights. No betrayal. No goodbye. Just two people sharing a life while slowly unlearning each other. This is not a romance. It's a story about emotional abandonment, selective memory, and the quiet damage of staying when leaving feels harder. Because sometimes, the end doesn't happen all at once. Sometimes, it lives with you.

A story about holding on when no one asked you to. He didn't stop loving me with a goodbye. He just... stopped showing up. No slammed doors. No final words. Just silence - and stickers. And a cup he still uses every day. The one I sent him when I still believed I mattered. This is not a love story. It's a story about presence. About naming someone who no longer names you back. About staying soft even when they forget the weight of your softness. Written as a mirror - not a diary. This book is for the people who stayed: When no one asked you to. When no one noticed you did. When no one remembered how much it cost you. Each chapter is a quiet ache. Each word is a step toward letting go - without leaving. A slow unraveling of what it means to stay loyal to someone who already let go. If you've ever named someone with your whole heart... and watched them treat it like a sticker - this story is yours. And maybe... theirs too. Even if they never realize it.

Hala knows the truth of her world-the anger, the silences, the chaos-but no one sees it the way she does. She moves through life quietly, observing, enduring, and praying, carrying the weight of others' storms while remaining unseen. What happens when truth exists, but no one receives it?

On April 13, Anya's life changes, not in a way anyone can see. Thirteen years after her birthday, strange dreams begin to return. In them stands a silent girl, turned away, carrying a sadness that refuses to fade. At first, the dreams feel like nightmares. Then they begin to feel like memories. And finally, like a choice. As Anya is drawn into a space between remembering and forgetting, she uncovers a truth about human cruelty, not born from monsters, but from ordinary people who looked away. The girl does not ask for forgiveness. She does not ask for justice. She asks Anya to decide what happens next. Caught between compassion and hatred, Anya must confront a question far heavier than revenge: Is ending a cycle harder than continuing it? A slow-burn psychological and emotional story about memory, responsibility, and the quiet power of mercy, A Nightmare is a novel about breaking what was never meant to be inherited.

A Small Life with a Very Loud Secret follows Eliya, a quiet clerk whose days pass in careful routines and deliberate simplicity. His life is small by design-measured meals, unremarkable work, and an apartment that leaves little trace of its occupant. From the outside, he appears ordinary, almost invisible. When a journalist arrives asking questions about an incident buried eight years earlier, Eliya is forced to confront a truth he has lived beside but never spoken aloud. As the past resurfaces through memory, silence, and public revelation, the story examines the cost of withholding truth and the quiet ways guilt reshapes a life. Told with restraint and moral depth, this short story explores responsibility, memory, and the tension between private survival and public truth, revealing how even the smallest lives can carry secrets loud enough to change everything.

A home should be safe. For Anya, it's slowly becoming a prison. Mark loves her-but only the version he controls. Every flinch, every small compromise, every quiet rule tightens the walls. How far can love go before it suffocates?

​She grows up poor. Quiet. Unclaimed. ​Her mother died early, leaving behind nothing but the knowledge of how to stay small. Her father existed only as a hollow space in their lives. An absence that ate their food and sat between them at night. In their world of thin walls and counted coins, silence was the only thing that kept them alive. ​On her nineteenth birthday, a door finally opens. ​Her father takes her from a life of borrowed rooms and empty cupboards into a house built on marble and restraint. It is a place of locked wings and rules spoken without warmth. She is not a daughter here; she is the proof of a past mistake. She is the child who should have stayed invisible. ​The woman who runs the house sees her too clearly. She meets the girl's presence with a resentment that cuts deeper than cruelty, a silence sharper than any scream. Every cold glance is a reminder: you are what he wants to forget. ​This story is about what happens when poverty teaches you how to disappear. It is about the heavy, aching truth of living in a world where fairness was never promised. ​And it is about the most dangerous thing of all: loving someone you know you cannot have. Not loudly. Not bravely. But carefully. In the tiny, jagged pieces you keep hidden beneath your skin. ​If you have ever learned to survive by staying small, this story sees you. ​If you have ever loved from a distance because wanting more felt like a threat, this story understands you. ​The Mistress's Daughter is a dark, quiet novel about the cost of being born where you were never meant to belong and the strength it takes to exist anyway.

A dentist appointment. A bridge. A white Kia Rio. In war, terror wears ordinary faces. This is a micro-story of the words we whisper to survive, and the memories that sentence us to remember.

In a morning that feels like every other, nea Sandu wakes before the world does. Not because he has somewhere to be-only because this is what old age does: it steals your sleep and leaves you with rituals. He moves carefully through the apartment, afraid to wake his wife, and clings to the small routines that still make the day feel orderly: a note on the fridge, a trip to the shop, tea prepared in advance, newspapers read in the cold air of the park. But outside the safety of habit, the world has changed its face. The park no longer feels friendly. People considered familiar are suddenly strangers. Words arrive too quickly, sharper than intended. And behind ordinary gestures-buying groceries, reading headlines, sitting at the backgammon table-something begins to drift out of place. Told with restraint, warmth, and a subtle tension that grows between the lines, this short story captures the fragile border between everyday normality and the moment it starts to crack. It's a portrait of aging, grief, and quiet devotion-of a man trying to hold onto love, dignity, and control, even as his own mind and body begin to betray him. A simple day, written like a whisper-until you realize the silence is doing all the talking.

❝𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡 𝗜𝗙 𝗜 𝗦𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠, 𝗠𝗬 𝗩𝗢𝗜𝗖𝗘 𝗪𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗛 - 𝗔 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗘𝗡 𝗠𝗘𝗟𝗢𝗗𝗬 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠❞ ━━━━━ (𝗬/𝗡) Yoisaki always found comfort in the soft hum of her computer fan and the quiet glow of her screen. Music was her language, her heartbeat, her only way of understanding the world. Her life revolved around composing songs that could heal, comfort, and reach those who were hurting-because she knew that kind of pain too well. Her world was small, quiet, and safe-until one night, during a late call with Ena, Mafuyu, and Mizuki, something strange happened. After their call ended, her monitor flickered. A website she didn't recognize appeared-its name unreadable, its colors distorted. The cursor moved on its own, dancing across the screen as if something alive was watching her. She tried to turn it off. She tried to pull away. But before she could even blink- The screen pulled her in. Now trapped in a world of rust, ruin, and chaos, (Y/N) must navigate the harsh lands of Gachiakuta, where survival depends not on kindness, but on strength. Yet even in this broken world, her music refuses to fall silent. With her mysterious Vital Instrument, a harp that can heal, defend, and fight, (Y/N) becomes an unexpected light among the darkness. Haunted by her past and driven by her compassion, she'll learn that even the softest melody can echo louder than any scream. But in a place where beauty is punished and kindness is a weapon- Will her music save others... or destroy her instead?

Before they were kings, they were fractured boys. Saint Helier's Academy hides its scars behind ivy-covered walls and polished names. But beneath the Latin mottos and legacy crests, seven boys are learning how to survive the quiet war of privilege, power, and pain. Caelan Sterling wears silence like a second skin-an heir born with a crown too heavy for his spine. Darian Wolfe is all fire and fists, punching shadows no one else can see. Julius Vexley, precise and untouchable, is cracking under a perfection no one asked him to carry. And others are coming-each stranger, lonelier, more haunted than the last. They do not fit. They do not bend. But together, they will build something greater than blood: A brotherhood. Unbreakable. Unforgiving. And destined to rise. This is the beginning. Before the empire. Before the betrayals. Before the vow that changed everything.

Alexander lives a quiet life, going through the motions of work, casual greetings, and solitary nights in his apartment. But in his mind, he is never truly alone. Noah is always there-everything Alexander wishes he could be-charming, confident, and captivating. But Noah isn't real... or is he? As Alexander struggles to confront his deepest desires and the boundaries of reality, he finds himself drawn into a love that can never be fully tangible. In this hauntingly romantic tale, Whispers of You explores the fine line between imagination and intimacy, and the longing to connect with the version of ourselves we dream of becoming. The text invites readers into a romantic, introspective journey, highlighting the emotional tension and unique relationship between Alexander and his imagined companion.