Surrealista Stories

Dreams were supposed to end when you wake up. But hers didn't. She always knew it wasn't just a nightmare. Because if it was... why didn't it leave her alone in the ocean?

"The first time you came here, you called it a dream. This time, you'll call it home." Adrian Kairo is a creature of habit: college classes, the steady hum of a ceiling fan, and the cold Portland rain. But reality is starting to fray at the edges. It starts with a flickering light. Then, a hallway that shouldn't exist; a yellow-lit, liminal labyrinth that pulses like a dying heartbeat. Each door leads deeper into a distorted version of his own life, and at the end of every corridor stands Cillian Virex. Cillian is calm. Cillian is familiar. Cillian is a man Adrian has never met, yet his soul recognizes him with a terrifying, bone-deep certainty. As the levels of the hallway shift from dreams to memories and into something far more dangerous, Adrian must face the fragments of himself he tried to bury. In a place where logic is an architect and silence is a weapon, Adrian is about to learn that forgetting was the only thing keeping him safe. Step into the hallway. Just remember: once you start walking, the exit is the first thing to disappear.

Historias breves que se desplazan entre lo que parece y lo que es. Ecos de una mente que observa, duda y fragmenta. A veces, las preguntas no están hechas para responderse.

The moment when the humor runs out and you realize you're not just 'traveling' anymore. To anyone who has ever sat by a 'destiny' and watched the 'fate' in the room. This one is for you. Life is cruel. Sleep well, everyone.

What happens when reality surrenders and time itself rots away? A group of survivors from different eras awakens at The Farm-a place where the rules are dead and memory is the only currency. Here, the path isn't walked; it is compiled. PANDEMONIUM is the testament that trauma isn't meant to be worshiped, but transmuted into a broken world that the system cannot detect. Written under the logic of code and the pulse of the Grimdark.

[a cpn/novel] in a town small enough to remember every face, spring arrives like a quiet confession. the air softens first, carrying the faint sweetness of cherry blossoms that bloom along narrow streets and crooked sidewalks. petals drift lazily, collecting in corners, on parked cars, in the still water of a winding creek that cuts through the heart of everything. by evening, the sky melts into shades of rose and gold, and for a fleeting moment, the entire town glows-washed in a delicate pink that feels almost unreal. it's the kind of place where time slows without asking, where memories linger in the spaces between trees and telephone lines. the creek reflects the sky so clearly it looks like the water itself has turned pink, as if the town is quietly bleeding its own stories into it. people say nothing ever really changes here-but in spring, something always does. beneath the blossoms, beneath the soft light and gentle warmth, something stirs. old feelings resurface, secrets rise like ripples, and the past begins to blur with the present. in a town that seems frozen in beauty, the truth moves quietly-like water, like petals, like the slow turning of a season that refuses to stay still. and once it begins, nothing stays untouched.

The sea Bleeds, the Sky Cracks and the world is too busy to Notice

Aya wakes up in the Nexus, where memories fade like mist. A mysterious person wants her to leave. But how can you leave when you can't leave? Note: This is my first story so please bear with me and I hope you enjoy!

In the quiet, federally-approved suburb of "The Gardens," Eli Peterson's life is a masterclass in predictability. He wears the same khaki uniform, drinks the same instant coffee, and pressure-washes his driveway with a devotion that borders on the religious. In a world of gray-beige houses and identical mailboxes, Eli is safe. Eli is normal. But Jennifer, the woman at 416 Evergreen Lane, is an anomaly. Jennifer is a cartographer of places that don't exist. Armed with a brass theodolite and shimmering parchment, she maps the "Subliminal Sea" and the "City of Forgotten Names" right across Eli's manicured lawn. When the boundary between Eli's mundane reality and Jennifer's impossible territories begins to "glitch," Eli is forced to confront a devastating truth: his perfect life might just be a gilded cage, and the woman he's drawn to might be the very system designed to keep him inside. In a reality where every sunset is programmed and every lawn is a lie, can you ever truly find the edge of the map?

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.

A corridor that eats. A boy who cries for others. A girl made of clocks. Two teenagers wake in a living hallway that feeds on their pain. One feels everything. One feels nothing. Both are breaking. Stitched eyes. Ticking skin. Walls that breathe. Memories that leak. They've met 100,000 times before. They don't remember. They'll meet 100,000 times again. They won't forget. This is not a love story. This is a digestion.

What follows here is an anthology of poetry spanning a major transitional period of my life, beginning with the first one I wrote. From casual observations, to heartfelt love poems, to the depths of my journey with depression, my internal struggles with religion, and settling into my exploration of surrealism and aesthetic, this is what I have to offer of my soul. // Oh to be an atom, beholden to it all, I hope you find something in my writing, and godspeed in your journey through the stars. // Cheers and a thousand blessings, Michayla [trigger warning: brief references to suicide/self harm in "Musings Of A Caged Bird"]

Stop the ringing

Unsuccessful crime novelist M.D. Gunn decides to write a book from the perspective a serial killer, but struggling to find ideas he decides to kill a man just to see how it feels and accidentally descends into the criminal underworld of a surreal city and into the psychopathic back-corners of his troubled mind. Asda, another weird story about a writer with issues? Sorry! But this one has guns!

Coletânea de contos que se passam no mundo de Gaia e em outros mundos. Ficção onírica.

Alex every night is visited during his dreams by a mysterious creature. The creature chases him, assuming control over his body when he is awake. Frequently, leaving puzzling texts behind for Alex to decode. His friend Dion has to find out what the monstrous creature wants. While fighting against this powerful force, Alex has to keep everything in secret from the only person capable of helping him to defeat his nightmares, Ellen.

A figure struggling with an eye that it tries to close with its hands, yet fights to keep open.

Cathrine Lost is a haunting psychological journey into the depths of grief and obsession. Cathrine, a young woman abandoned by her father and shattered by the recent death of her mother, becomes fixated on a mysterious flute tune played by a boy she can never quite catch. As she spirals deeper into her obsession, the line between reality and illusion blurs, leading her to chase shadows through narrow alleys and lost memories. But as the tune fades and reappears, Cathrine's fixation turns to apathy, leaving her staring into the void of her own unraveling mind. Is the boy real, or just a ghost of her fractured soul? Cathrine Lost is a story of haunting melodies, elusive truths, and a descent into the unknown.

What marvel I stumbled upon when consumed with boredom that Wednesday afternoon… the library—it’s range brought me no pleasure until I stumbled upon this unrecognised masterpiece: Jack Kerouac’s Maggie Cassidy, even now I use what he referred to as spontaneous prose—taking no rests no pauses no breaks… letting y narrative flow as fluidly as the jazz pieces of the Beat Generation… fear not my readers… I am not a changed man… this is merely a passing phase, an experiment, a test of my writing abilities—after all it is best to experiment when you’re young—I am open to your views and opinions on this prose and this style and hope you enjoy it. D.K. Fox

In Kyoto, Japan. A boy has been ecstatic to have a remarkable highschool life; it was one of his strong desire he's been wanting to feel in his lifetime. Now that he graduated elementary, he ascends up to the stairs and reach the level, "Highschool." He then started to feel that his desire, is slowly being fulfilled. At 2024, a virus breaks out and causes frenzy around the nations; the origin of the virus hasn't yet to be discovered due to the chaos its causing of the virus itself, resulting to unstable connection throughout the countries. Rumours spread that half of the existing countries didn't survive the epidemic, henceforth, not a single human could be seen standing, running, nor hiding on those countries. 2 years past... Peace was restored upon the nations; the infected was brutality led to extinction by the military, while some of them was cured. The extinguished countries had fast recovery, through the help of the unaffected countries (Indonesia, Singapore, Taiwan, Maldives, Canada, and half of China and Russia). The boy who desired to have a wonderful highschool life, became speechless after the nasty events happened. Realization then struck him regarding they true way of living outside his "safe zone." As from the day the world recovered, he changed for the better, ending his belief in having peace in this world. To his perspective and opinion, what're we experiencing now is a part of a preparation, of the upcoming chaos...