histórias de Visceral

Hanna is a romantic. A believer. An artist who sees the world in fragments of "Halves" and "Quarters." She thought she knew what to expect from her freshman year. She didn't expect Mr. Flash. He's a walking adrenaline rush with a gaze that feels like a premonition. One touch, and Hanna sees the tragedy waiting for them at the finish line. Desperate to change her own ending, Hanna leans into the safety of Mr. Red-the guy with the strawberry-blonde hair, the motorcycle, and a heart that beats in sync with her own. It's easy. It's steady. It's perfect. But can you ever really paint over a masterpiece that fate already sketched out?

"In a city built on straight lines, their collision was anything but planned." The Bio: Ivaan is a masterpiece of controlled isolation. At seventeen, he navigates the sectors of Chandigarh with a cold, mechanical detachment, his life measured by the roar of his GT 650 and the scent of bitter bergamot. He doesn't do attachments. To him, getting close to someone is a diagnostic error-a risk he can no longer afford to take. He carries a silence that suggests a history of being left behind, a wound that hasn't quite closed, making him a man who prefers the company of shadows over the weight of human connection. Vanya is the sharp contrast-a medical student defined by the sterile precision of GMCH-32. She is used to fixing what is broken, to understanding the biology of pain. But when she encounters Ivaan's fractured composure, she finds a puzzle that no textbook can explain. What begins as a series of calculated encounters turns into a visceral pull neither can escape. Vanya is determined to reach the parts of him he's kept buried, while Ivaan is terrified that if he lets her in, he's simply inviting a ghost to stay. In a world where intimacy feels like internal bleeding, they are forced to confront a haunting reality: the person who makes you feel alive is often the same one destined to leave you standing in the wreckage. "He survived the silence once. Will he survive her?"

A collection of poems I wrote so that it would leave me alone. Some of these should have stayed in my head Read if you're not afraid to feel something.

This story follows the delusional and overburdened individual Alexander who claims the world is and always will be against him no matter what. His goal is to find out why, but he calls it his "destiny".

Cornelius had always had a fascination with teeth. He found them to be exquisite items, though his obsession had always remained an unknown secret, even from his wife. However, once his baby is born without the bones in her gums, his secret transforms into something more sinister. He starts a collection for his little girl that he must complete, even if that means sacrificing all in his life and releasing his inner violent nature.

Não é redenção Nem cura Não é perdão Uma poesia sobre dançar onde tentaram me apagar

Flash Fiction. As his father was dying decorated with the cries of agony from his brother and blood, The boy, couldn't process it. The only thing he was thinking was a clock was falling down.

A Roman coastal city frozen beneath volcanic ruin begins to stir again, its long-buried dead awakening beneath the mud as Vesuvius casts its shadow once more.

A wetland excavation uncovers a grotesque, tangled mass of impossible bones, awakening something ancient beneath the mud. As the ground begins to pulse and a towering composite creature briefly rises from the pit, the workers flee-leaving behind a seemingly calm marsh that still, unmistakably, breathes.

A lone Ronin travels the world, ridding villages on the Oni's grasp. His blade wills him forward for good and for evil. He fights to maintain individuality in a war against his legendary Katana. Daimyo begin disappearing, so the shogun hires a powerful ronin to solve the mystery.

Bienvenido a mi perdición como narrador

{ One bed...and it's haunted } ~ warning : The following material is drawn off real life encounters & events. This is a story of fear, fever, and the strange moments when reality trembles just beyond grasp. #witwcontest 《 wattpad short story contest 》

In a fog-shrouded field, a skull with a perfect circular cut in its crown begins to open, revealing something alive within.

A lone traveler stumbles upon a skull impaled by a sword in a hidden forest clearing, only to awaken something buried beneath that should never have been freed.

A collection of short stories I made. I am a new and aspiring writer. Constructive criticism is welcomed and encouraged!

A lingering story about what remains when something-or someone-starts to slip away.

Pequeños relatos nacidos del fuego lento, de los sueños que no avisan, de las memorias que no sabíamos que teníamos. En cada fragmento, una chispa: una visión, una sombra, un recuerdo, un conjuro. Historias breves como brebajes antiguos: algunos curan, otros hieren, todos despiertan. Aquí la tinta es ritual. Aquí cada historia es un fragmento del alma.

For years, I believed I was delusional. That Brookmoor-my town, my home-was just a figment of a broken mind. That my husband, my life in the U.S., had never existed at all. Everyone said I made it up. That I confabulated an entire past. But now, something has resurfaced. A broadcast. A name. A memory made real. This is the story of my fight to prove that I wasn't crazy... that somewhere, Brookmoor was real-and maybe still is.

In the distant future, there is no hope. There is only chaos. I was not given a choice but I will take my choice, by force if I must.

When a man's decaying world finally turns against him, his insides take matters into their own hands. 🩸 In a surreal journey of flesh and filth, the boundaries between nightmare and reality blur, leaving him to face the sinister aftermath of what happens when the body decides to revolt. 😱🫀