Psychological
Baba Vanga Predictions for 2026
Baba Vanga Predictions for 2026 Baba Vanga remains one of the most fascinating figures in the world of prophecy. Though blind from childhood, she saw further than most people could imagine. Her name has become a symbol of mystery, a whisper passed between believers and skeptics whenever the world feels uncertain. For decades, her visions have been revisited each time a new disaster unfolds, as if her words continue to echo through time.
By Marie381Uk 29 days ago in Fiction
The Red Hatred
Sometimes I feel like I hate you. A kind of red magma forms inside me, in my chest, and rises to my throat. In that moment, I want to destroy. I want to grab a plate and smash it into pieces. I want to take scissors and shred that red, sexy underwear I bought to please you.
By Anastasia Tsarkovaabout a month ago in Fiction
Until You Understand
You wake somewhere new. No memory of the night before. Light arrives from no visible source and refuses to cast shadows. The walls are pale, unmarked, faintly warm. The room has edges but no corners. Sound travels too cleanly. There is a door behind you. You know this without turning. You turn. The door is sealed. No handle. No seam. Only a rectangle slightly darker than the wall around it. A clock without hands is mounted at eye level. It ticks anyway. In the center of the room is a board set into the floor. Black and white squares. Perfectly even. A chessboard large enough to stand on. There is a desk made of glass along the far wall. On it rests a single sheet of paper. It wants a signature. You do not touch it. A tone sounds. It is calm. The board hums. Pieces rise from the floor. They do not slide into place. They emerge as if the room exhales them. Pawns first. Then rooks. Knights. Bishops. The King. The Queen. They arrange themselves. The tone sounds again. You understand without being told: it is your turn. You hesitate. The clock ticks louder. A sign fades into the wall beside the board. Stand here. Wait your turn. You step onto a white square. The room stills. A pawn moves on its own. The tone sounds. You are expected to respond. You choose a pawn. It is close. It seems harmless. You move it forward one square. The tone stops. The board hums. Nothing else happens. You wait. Another pawn advances. The tone sounds. You move again. The rhythm establishes itself. Tone. Move. Silence. You begin to anticipate. You think one move ahead. Then two. The board allows this. It does not resist. It simply answers. A bishop disappears. Not taken. Gone. You do not notice. Two turns later, a square darkens. The light narrows. The room feels smaller by a margin you cannot measure. You do not connect this to the bishop. The clock ticks. You keep playing. A knight vanishes. The hum deepens. The air grows denser. You adjust. You protect your King. You sacrifice a pawn. You gain space. The Queen is gone. You do not miss it yet. You will later. The board continues. You begin to understand the tones. One is for urgency. One is for error. One is for delay. You learn when to breathe. You learn when to wait. A rook disappears. The wall behind you warms. You turn. The door remains sealed. You play faster. You try to win. The board does not reward this. Three moves later, a row of squares becomes inert. You step onto one by habit. Your foot does not lift. The board holds you in place until the tone releases you. You stop rushing. You begin to watch. You notice that when a piece vanishes, the room changes later. Never immediately. Always delayed. Always proportional. You begin to count. One piece lost: light shifts. Two pieces lost: sound tightens. Three pieces lost: space contracts. The board is not punishing you. It is teaching you scale. You test it. You sacrifice a pawn. Nothing happens. You sacrifice another. The clock ticks louder. You sacrifice a third. The ceiling lowers by a breath. You recover a piece. The ceiling halts. You stop thinking about winning. You start thinking about cost. The board does not care about victory. It cares about consequence. A piece you save now will matter later. A move you make now will close a door you cannot yet see. You play more slowly. You let a knight fall because you understand what it will buy you. The room warms. The ticking softens. You learn that every square is a future. You learn that speed is not control. You learn that reaction is not choice. The tone sounds. You wait. Not because you are told. Because you see the board. You see the path your hand almost took. You see what it would have cost. You choose differently. The room exhales. The clock grows quiet. The door does not open. You are not finished. You make a move you have already lost. You see it this time. You do not take it. The board waits. The room waits. The tone does not sound. You move anyway. Not to escape. Not to win. To accept that every square you touch becomes the world that follows. The door unlocks without a sound.
By Tifani Power about a month ago in Fiction
Affection and Healing for Yourself. Top Story - January 2026.
During the night of the last quarter moon, I gathered my ritual supplies. I carefully handled the chunk of black tourmaline that would protect me from your overall negative and narcissistic energy. I carefully walked the house with my stick of selenite in hand, asking the universe to cleanse our working space.
By Alisha Wilkins ✒️🦋🖋️about a month ago in Fiction
