A Compilation of Unspoken Truths
- LECTURES 27
- Votes 0
- Chapitres 4
Mots-clésanonymous
This is a collection of real stories sent privately by people who chose to remain unnamed.
They didn't want to be exposed, just heard.
Each confession is raw, personal, and shared in hopes that someone out there might relate.
No faces. No names. Just the truth they've been holding in.
Tous Droits Réservés
Rejoignez la plus grande communauté de conteursObtiens des recommandations personnalisées d'histoires, enregistre tes préférées dans ta bibliothèque, commente et vote pour développer ta communauté.
Vous aimerez aussi
All of The Girls
She knew he'd been in love before. Not just once, not just in passing. Real, deep, messy love. And maybe that should've been her sign to keep her distance. To not let herself feel too much. But instead, it made her pause. Because the way he talked about them-the girls before her- it wasn't bitter. It wasn't dramatic. It was quiet. Thoughtful. Almost gentle. He remembered birthdays, late-night calls, stupid little details no one else would hold on to. He loved them well. Or at least, he tried. And that's what messed her up. Because it made her want to fall even harder. And at the same time, it made her want to run. She wasn't afraid of his past. She was afraid that someone like him-someone who had already given so much-might not have anything left for her. Or worse, that he would love her the same way. And she'd fall for it, just like they did. And end up as another name he says gently, years, from now.
Brutally yours
To the quiet girls with stormy hearts. To the boys who feel too much but show too little. To those who were never chosen first - but loved like they were the last. This story is for the unseen, the unheard, the untamed. For every soul who thought they were "too soft" for this world - and found someone who didn't just see their softness, but protected it with fire. For anyone who still believes that love isn't always gentle - but when it's real, it is brutally honest, brutally fierce, and brutally yours. And most of all - To the one who dreams loud in silence: This is your story. You just haven't lived it yet.Terminé
Scary Short Stories †
+ riddles, long ass stories and other shits. DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE CONTENT POSTED. ALL CREDITS GO TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNER.Terminé
𝑰 𝑫𝑰𝑫𝑵'𝑻 𝑫𝑰𝑬, 𝑰 𝑺𝑼𝑹𝑽𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑫.
They thought I'd break. That I'd disappear into silence. But I survived. Not for revenge, not for pity - but because my story was never meant to end there. This is the unfiltered truth of a girl who chose to rise through betrayal, fear, isolation... and found strength in survival.
Creepy Pasta stories
These are all kinds of stories about what's true and what is not true... WARNING!! IF YOU GET SCARED EASILY DO NOT READ THIS...Terminé
Anonymous Confessions
A place where you can send in anonymous confessions, and they will be posted here. I will always keep it confidential. Achievements: Ranked #1 Non-Fiction. Cover made by me but the images are not mine.Terminé
Quiet storm
You ever love somebody so soft, it sound like rain hittin' a window instead of thunder? She wasn't chaos - she was calm. The type of peace that make a man put down everything that hurt him just to hold her right. They called me hard 'cause I survived. She called me human 'cause I could still feel. I ain't know love could whisper. Ain't know healing could hum. She ain't fix me - she reminded me I wasn't broken. She saw poetry where the world saw pressure. Told me even the street got a heartbeat if you listen close enough. Now I walk different. Talk different. Love louder - even when I don't say nothin'. 'Cause love like ours don't need noise. It's steady. It's home. It's the quiet after the storm.Terminé
The Prince And The Rose
A Tale As Old As Time... A Whole New World... We Must Have Courage and Be Kind 🧞♂️🌹🤴 ____ Malachai Alvarez and his family held the highest position in the mafia elite of Cinderwood, a position they had inherited after his uncle's murder of the patriarch of the Jamison family. The ensuing chaos led to the division of territories among the surviving families. Trapped between the prince and the beast, Malachi embarked on a quest to dismantle the darkness that had raised him. Isabella Valentino adopted the masked hero identity of the Rose to protect her community, after the unexpected death of her mother. While the Rose saves her home, Isabella herself serves it. Balancing running the family bakery, caring for her younger sister, and a hero only proves her willingness to stay in the light. What happens when the two of them discover they aren't fighting alone?
LIZA: A Broken Became The Blade
This is not just a story. It's a journey into shadows, betrayal, and survival. Dawn of a Dream. Ashes of Trust. Fire of Vengeance. Liza's life was never meant to be this way. She wanted love, light, and freedom. But when the people closest to her turned into her nightmares, she learned the hardest truth-sometimes, silence kills faster than wounds. This novel is about more than pain. It's about strength. About a girl who was broken, but rose again-not as a victim, but as fire itself. Some may call her a monster. Some may call her a hero. But this is her voice. Her truth. Her war. If you've ever felt unseen, unheard, or silenced-this story is for you. Hey readers 💙 Thank you so much for picking up this story. I've poured my heart into Liza's journey-it's raw, dark, and full of pain, but also about strength and survival. I'd love to hear your honest feedback as you read. If anything feels confusing, too heavy, or doesn't flow well-please let me know in the comments. Your thoughts will really help me grow as a writer and make this story even stronger.Terminé
THE BOOK OF FORGOTTEN DELIBERATELY
"Some truths don't set you free. They set you on fire." They told me not to open that book. They warned me with stories-old, crusty ones-about madness, about secrets best left untouched. They said the library's far wing was cursed. That the books in that section didn't whisper wisdom-they screamed. But curiosity has a strange way of settling into your bones, especially when you've lived your entire life inside walls built from someone else's truths. My name? It doesn't matter-not yet. This story isn't about names. It's about what was forgotten deliberately. And how I found it. I wasn't born a rebel. I didn't want to challenge kingdoms or rewrite history. I just wanted to understand who I was, why I felt out of place, and what those strange dreams meant. The ones with burning skies and voices calling me by a name no one else knew. This isn't a tale of heroes and villains. It's messier than that. It's about a girl who found a truth so big, it didn't fit into her world. And maybe-just maybe-it won't fit into yours either. But I'll tell it anyway. Because stories like this-whispers like these-were never meant to stay silent. Disclaimer This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events, or locales is purely coincidental. The stories in this book are designed to entertain, provoke thought, and explore a range of emotions and themes. They do not intend to offend or represent any belief system, historical accuracy, or cultural narrative in a literal way. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without the prior written permission of the author.Terminé
She knew he'd been in love before. Not just once, not just in passing. Real, deep, messy love. And maybe that should've been her sign to keep her distance. To not let herself feel too much. But instead, it made her pause. Because the way he talked about them-the girls before her- it wasn't bitter. It wasn't dramatic. It was quiet. Thoughtful. Almost gentle. He remembered birthdays, late-night calls, stupid little details no one else would hold on to. He loved them well. Or at least, he tried. And that's what messed her up. Because it made her want to fall even harder. And at the same time, it made her want to run. She wasn't afraid of his past. She was afraid that someone like him-someone who had already given so much-might not have anything left for her. Or worse, that he would love her the same way. And she'd fall for it, just like they did. And end up as another name he says gently, years, from now.
Plus d’InfosDirectives du Contenu