Surrealist Stories

A Carnival of Small Apocalypses These are poems for the hours after midnight, when the neon hums louder than reason and the world briefly forgets how to pretend. Inside these pages, goldfish learn theology from television screens. Ghosts linger in diners. Prophets miss their exits. Machines dream of salvation. The faithful wrestle with doubt, the doubtful wrestle with faith, and ordinary people carry the quiet weight of living through strange times. Part witness, part confession, part roadside sermon, these free verse spoken-word poems wander through forgotten towns, crowded headlines, broken promises, flickering screens, and the stubborn mysteries that refuse to leave us alone. Some are angry. Some are mournful. Some laugh in places they probably shouldn't. Together they form a carnival of small endings and unexpected beginnings-a collection of voices searching for meaning beneath neon skies, beneath static, beneath the noise. Step right up. The lights are already flickering. The ride has already begun.

This is a story about my character Steven Crass, who is a regular in my short stories. This story takes place in 1995 where he was in the 8th Grade in middle school, and transitions to high school as a Freshman. And his life in general in 1995.

The original idea is to write about a guy who suppresses his memories to the point he forgets people or things in his real life.

Fumika Takahashi is a over-worked twenty year old Japanese woman who dreads of never getting over her fears of her teenage years and not being able to reconnect with her old friend, haikus. As she goes to sleep, she wakes up as a teenager walking in the sky with a wooden floor, and she sees bubbles of her memories. However, she must go and learn through the memories to finish the dream. Not to mention we get to see her poems and haikus in this short short novella. Authors Note: This is my first actual short story I published on Wattpad! Forgive me if the pacing feels off!

A girl is on vacation with her family and is bored and doesn't find anything interesting.

Çox rusty lake oynamağdan mırta ağlıma əsən surreal və homoseksual temalı qısa hekayədi

Un ciclo de vida llegando a su final en algo parecido a un sueño febril

When the mind turns the world into a technicolor nightmare.. A place where gravity plays cruel jokes and a rain of needles scrapes the skin of the soul. A journey into the mind of a terrified pylon, struggling just to 'stand tall' in a world of deafening chaos. In a world where trees have souls and nightmares take the shape of an old woman, one child's mind creates its own refuge. But can a dream truly save you from the shadows of reality?"

"Art requires an audience. And she's about to make them watch." On May 24th, 2014, outcast artist Heather Cathleen Arendelle pulled the trigger in Saint Sebastian High's Art Room. But her suicide wasn't an act of despair; it was a ritual. By painting her final masterpiece in her own blood, Heather enacted a rite of transmutation, turning her vengeful soul into pure Creation. Now, her tormentors are trapped. At her funeral, the world begins to bleed into acrylics and pastels. The walls become canvas, doors turn into impenetrable varnish, and the monsters Heather once sketched are stepping out of the frames-hungry for flesh. As the school warps into a shifting labyrinth of psychological trauma, Shaun, Sarah, and their friends realize they aren't just running from ghosts. They are being re-interpreted, flattened, and erased by a dead girl's memory. They thought their high school cruelty was just a joke. Now, they are the negative space Heather is planning to paint over in Absolute Silence.

[The Gravity of Echoes] 79 hours a day. The coronation of a tanker. The absolute zero sunlight. Lin and Sooyoung exist where logic dissolves. In a reality where acetylene plays beach volleyball with the laws of physics and celestial horses graze on the silence of Mercury, our reality is nothing more than a glitch in the celestial machine. This is not a story of a journey; it is the archive of a return. A record of two souls navigating the friction layers of a dying galaxy, searching for the only coordinate that remains absolute: the path home. When the Absolute Spirit becomes a refrigerator's dandyism and cherry blossoms scatter as cosmic moles, we walk arm in arm. Beyond the speed of light. Into the silence. #Surrealism #SciFi #Philosophy #Experimental #TheGravityOfEchoes #Metaphysics #LinAndSooyoung

Will has a shift in feelings and has decided to terminate his sessions with Dr. Lecter. The answer is within the haze that has grown between them, and Hannibal is not afraid to step through.

A sublime confession how love for a man can sometimes be one sided and that in order for it to prosper, one must carry on why thinking of thoughts that will leave an abstract hole between reality and spirituality. How each word spoken are melted plates of gold that will never glaciate, and will only live on as a dream. an abstract longing, incurable and dispiriting. Thinking simply of thoughts, one must weight the heaviness of such emotion amidst the crisis of change.

"Death, I think I could handle. It's the waiting that kills me." Humanity is no more. Struggling out of the rubble are the Lumière and the Fos, two races whose only edible source of food is the hearts of one another, and no matter how much they eat they're eternally hungry. Perhaps they were once the same-- brothers in humanity-- but now they're brothers in cannibalism. Though these monsters may look human, it's important to remember they are anything but. They are not alive, and they are definitely not human. Kai Chrysostom's brother, Ash, just died. He was the family's Sawney, the hunter of Fos: the one who went into the white plains just beyond the city walls to hunt Fos for food so his family could live. Most days, he would arrive home, place heart after heart on the dinner table and smile at his brother, whose constant twitching and childhood disease meant he could never kill a Fos himself. Now, the task falls to Kai. Considered by most to be disabled, Kai has no hunt training, a fear of death, and worse-- a fear of the past. A death. A journey. Eternal hunger. A hunt he never wanted to join. And love. A girl Fos who spares everyone except him, and takes pity on the poor fool as he literally faints at the sight of blood in front of her. A prison. A savior. A loss. More death. And the past that demands to be remembered. And, it's great-- you've sympathized with your only source of food-- but you're hungry. And, deep down, you know you must eat. ~~~ 45,205 words! Finished! Finally~!!

A novel presenting a range of philosophical ideas through strange events and rich symbolism. "Note: Artificial intelligence tools were used to assist in the translation so errors are to be expected."

Hotels are innocuous places, they are rarely ruminated over, perhaps due to their diminutive position in the tapestries of our lives. Liminal spaces are the concept of thought, thought over areas that are rarely thought about; they pass us ever day, we pass them- but pervading thoughts of work and finance obfuscate these areas. That is until we remove the people, and the feverishness. The mundanity becomes sinister- and strange. And one blighted detective is about to have the most frantic escape of his life from one such place , one which shall maraud him evermore...

Why are you so curious about the unknown, even if you don't understand yourself?

I don't always notice when things stop being real. Sometimes it's small things. A place that feels slightly wrong. A moment that doesn't match what I remember. A thought I'm sure I never had... until I did. And sometimes it's worse. Because there are moments I can't tell if I'm remembering my life or building it while I'm inside it. Vanya keeps moving forward, trying to make sense of what's happening around her. But the world doesn't stay still long enough to explain itself. And something...always just out of reach...feels like it already knows her better than she knows herself. ✨ SEASON ONE: I WAKE UP WHEN I ALMOST DIED

A short story about a woman who is waiting for her train and hasn't slept for months straight thanks to society's new pill, NoSleep Pill, allowing you to work without any sleep.

A week ago my friend declared to have ended the world. I didn't believe it then but now, as always, I'm beginning to doubt. I live in Cepeda de la Sierra, south of Salamanca. I work as a painter. I don't know your opinion on my profession; perhaps some of you find it romantic or liberating. If so, I will sadly confess that my experience contradicts that view. Of course, I can only speak for myself, but my work has led to a painful routine that dominates and corrects me. However, I still have a sliver of hope and I wish that one day, if there are more days, I can paint everything I want to paint.