Spring Psychological Short Stories - Page 2

Nora wiped sweat from her forehead, the monitor flatlining as the radio crackled with another incoming disaster.

The mountain unzipped itself, taking the trail, my left ankle, and my dead husband's ashes with it.

Mae's doomscrolling was violently interrupted when a sixty-pound robotic dog decided her shin was its new mate.

A rehearsal for a failing play turns into a desperate search for meaning under flickering magenta stage lights.

The logging road was a trench of brown slush, and the Silverado was buried halfway to the axles.

Harte finds a hiker’s recorder playing screams while the forest begins to manifest his darkest childhood memories from needles.

Leo and Sloane navigate a hyper-saturated farmer's market where the sparks are real but the reality feels thin.

The sun was too bright for Troy’s heavy silence, and the single dark hair on his chin changed everything.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and found a slick, fleshy crater where bone used to be.

The mud pulled at my boots with loud, wet sounds. The whole forest felt like a giant trap.

Ex-detective Andrews finds bootprints in the slush, suspecting a local leader has faked his death to escape taxes.

Ben enters a corporate greenhouse where his stress kills plants and his joy breaks the high-tech wellness algorithm.