Secrets
From Paper to Tablets: My Journey Back to Reading- Part 2
By the way, because we are still chatting closer then ever. I remember something nice and maybe a bit funny. The actor from ‘The Gladiator’’movie => Russel Crow? he once said, that his good manners are because his mother have once upon a time, as child , to read almost every single book from Mills and Bon … hm, speaking about books — you know…
By CA'DE LUCE7 days ago in Confessions
Yet somehow still filled with protection, structure, and a kind of moral clarity that feels rare today!
Innocence yes, it was! Still, I was a bullied child, most of the time of my childhood! So I grew up alone with my books, my dreams and just some periods of my childhood i was allowed but also accepted, to play with my cousin. Which was incidentally also my neighbour.
By CA'DE LUCE7 days ago in Confessions
My Time In Prison
A Little Background To My Sentence My Crime? I was made redundant around the turn of the millennium. I got a small redundancy payment and tried to get by on that but it didn’t last all that long as I had just bought a house and had a mortgage to pay so needed to find some way of keeping my head above the financial waterline. What was I going to do?
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 9 days ago in Confessions
1 in 3. Content Warning.
When I was teenager a hot topic between friends was “first time” stories. I was 13 when I gathered in a group circle shivering with the girls. The cold air nipped our noses, but the conversation was steaming. We were waiting for the doors to open at school and listened attentively as one of the girls spun a yarn about how romantic the night of the winter dance had been. They spent the whole dance/ activity night on the dance floor. Bumping and grinding, dry humping like untrained pups but there was slow dancing thrown in too. We stood beneath the curious, leafless red maple. The girls licked their lips and gawked as our friend spoke. I was uncomfortable that day. Partly because my converse were shit in the snow and now, my socks had become soaked from the icy slush on the sidewalks and partly because of the conversation, but I listened in anyway. And partly because the night before I was invaded by an unwelcome creep and I could still feel throbbing between my thighs.
By Theresa M Hochstine9 days ago in Confessions
A Small Story About Honesty
Nearly a decade ago, a notification appeared on my computer screen that felt like a brush with destiny. At the time, I was an active participant in the digital world of fandom, leaving thoughtful, supportive comments on the social media posts of a well-known and internationally recognized actor I deeply admired. Then, the impossible happened: a private message arrived.
By Anna K.10 days ago in Confessions
Letters to the Grave
Have you ever felt the pull of the past—that quiet ache to return to the crossroads where words were left unsaid? Not to chase the echoes of the dead, but to face the living ghosts we carry—the ones who walked out of our days, or slipped from our minds, or were cut away like threads no longer meant to weave our story. These are the conversations that haunt the quiet moments, letters addressed to absences, sent to the spaces where people once stood before time, distance, or choice turned them into shadows.
By Jackie Fazekas10 days ago in Confessions
When the Wind Knocked
The wind had been knocking for three nights before I finally admitted that it was not weather. It began as a murmur against the old glass, a careful tapping as though some hesitant traveler had lost their way and mistaken my window for a door. My house stood at the edge of the town, where the road thinned into gravel and then into nothing at all. Beyond it lay fields the color of rusted gold, and beyond those, hills that swallowed the horizon. The wind had always passed through there freely, dragging dust and forgotten leaves along its restless path. But this was different.
By LUNA EDITH10 days ago in Confessions
