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Make a character’s addiction or obsession an important element of your story.

Posted in Dramatic on Nov 14, 2025

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✍️ 47 stories

A Memorial

Submitted to Contest #329

“Alright, guys, please do not forget about the test tomorrow. Study using the homework and the study guide on Google Classroom.” I started packing up my stuff as the bell rang, marking the end of the day. These days, my 10th graders couldn’t care less about math class, and today, I was too tired to make them. I just wanted to go home. Luckily, I didn’t have bus line duty today, which meant I could rush home immediately. I didn’t have to pick up Jeanie today either; she was supposed to be at soccer practice until 5:30. This meant I was free t...

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In the Hours After Midnight

Submitted to Contest #329

The building liked to settle a little too much after midnight, which is why I was always sure to clock in to my shift in the power plant’s security office no later than 11:48 P.M. It gave me enough time to brace myself for another graveyard shift. The smell of oil and metal in the air. Another shitty coffee. Another night of listening to her voice.I said goodnight to the swing-shift guard as he left, then sipped my black-tar coffee. It was the kind that the white collars in their white offices graciously supplied to us lesser folk, but they’...

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Black and White

Submitted to Contest #329

CW: Physical violence, racism, apartheid BLACK AND WHITE South Africa 1975It's dark. Not inky-black, you understand. Just city-dark; the darkness of stone-shattered streetlights.I can still see the road, stretching wet and away; defined by glimmers of reflection. Pavements are lost; the bins and the garbage; the things that lurk on the fringes; the soft splash of foot in puddle.I'm invisible where I sit on the kerb, damp working its cold way through my body. From beanie to sneakers, I'm enveloped in pigment. God made me this way, or so I'm t...

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Glass

Submitted to Contest #329

Glass . 🖤 TW: mentions of death, mild descriptions of gore.characters:amaryllis. - the star.opal. - the soon to be. ---------------------------------------------------------------Nobody would suspect, her cold and uninviting stare never allowed people to trespass into her blackened soul, filled to the brim with succulent anguish and the illusion of normalcy. As her mechanical footwork let loose the beauty of her character without strain, arms held out feeling the air beneath her wings of deceit. Opal was transfixed upon this Ren...

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THE WEED MADE ME PARANOID BUT I WAS RIGHT

Submitted to Contest #329

The clock strikes midnight with the sound of a ledger snapping shut, and Peter clocks in for another shift at the Hopetown Gas & Go, where the fluorescent lights hum a frequency that vibrates at the exact pitch of his guilt and the parking lot stretches into darkness, a ninth circle of suburban hell waiting beyond the glass, and he's been doing this for eight months now, ever since his mother got sick and he made the decision that would define everything that came after, the decision he tells himself was about medical bills but knows, in...

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Whiskeyheart

Submitted to Contest #329

CW: Substance abuse, Mental health “I’m dying,” I whine, like a hypochondriac drama queen.Whiskey, my only housemate, looks at me with pure contempt. Even my cat hates me.“I have no food.”“I have no water.”“My litter box is filthy.”“My pee and shit are all over the house.”“Neatly next to the hairballs I’ve puked up.”“Just like I puke you up.”“I get no attention.”“I want a different owner.”I ignore him. I’ve sunk so low that even the welfare of my loyal four-legged companion no longer interests me.I hold my hair — wet strands stuck to my face...

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Plus 1

Submitted to Contest #329

“You know this is why you're single, right?” Jake asked, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Ace could have said the same thing right back at him. Jake often had a little catsup somewhere on his person. Instead, Ace spun his butter knife on the table, as if he were going to make the stainless balance on the tip. “You have to stop with the nonsense,” his ex-former future brother-in-law said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Yeah you do. The numbers, man. All you do is talk to people about numbers.” Numbers followed Ace—or vi...

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When The Moon Turned Red For Me

Submitted to Contest #329

All I ever wanted was to dance without falling. My name is Cecil Lafleur. Ever since I could remember, my body answers to the sound of music and the sadness in stories. My feet greet the floor, and once they start dancing, I would not be able to stop. I’d look at the ceilings, and my heart sinks in the tragedy of soloists in heavens—a pity that they could not dance for eternity. I spun in madness as I steadied my balance, and when my feathers struck the ground, a tear pretended to grieve for the dying swan. A loud ringing of applause brought...

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Dissolution

Submitted to Contest #329

Ok. It’s alright. You’re ok. Everything will be fine. You’re safe. What I did was right. It was right. Right? But was it? I feel guilt, clawing at the edges. Breathe. Muscles tense, fingers digging into palms. Let them relax; let the water cradle you. The warmth wraps around my skin. Embracing. Jaw clenched. Relax. Release the tightness. Just float. Just be. Slow down, heart—why is it racing? Breath catching. Panic is flooding. Chest tightening. Just breathe. I hope I’m not having a heart attack. Wouldn’t that be fitting? Too dark in ...

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INSIDE THE CROOK OF EILIF'S ARM

Submitted to Contest #329

Stone-faced, Eilif stared at his big screen television. He lazed in his recliner with a pint of beer clenched in his right hand and a bulky crumpled piece of paper in his left. His ceramic Goddess full of ashes was tucked inside the crook of his arm. Eilif lived in a stone cottage in the northern part of Norway, near a magnificent waterfall where the water cascaded and thundered down the mountain into the tranquil fjord below. His parents named him Eilif, as the name signified immortality, but more notably, his name revealed he was destined...

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The Cartographer of Nightmares

Submitted to Contest #329

CW: War themes, implied mass death, violence (non-graphic), psychological distress. By the time the others slept, the war belonged to him. Elias lit the last oil lamp and set it beside the map, watching its flame shiver inside the glass. The tent around him breathed with the wind — canvas exhaling, poles creaking softly, the night full of the distant grumble of guns. It was the hour he dreaded most, because it was the hour he felt most alive. He unrolled the sheet. Ridge lines, river spine, faint printed grids. A blank waiting to be believed...

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Yo, Meema!

Submitted to Contest #329

When my granddad died two years ago, we worried about Meema being all alone in the home she once shared with him. Meema was small and frail, and it was truly impressive that her feeble bones could hold up the weight of her two-inch thick glasses. To keep her busy, my brother and I bought her a cheap computer and gave her a quick crash course on surfing the web. She’d send us emails occasionally, and everyone was always very impressed by our tech-savvy octogenarian. A few days after Meema’s 84th birthday, I sat at her 60s-style metal kitchen ...

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The Nightshift

Submitted to Contest #329

Wursley didn't sit down after stepping onto the bus. There were plenty of seats, but he wanted to make a swift exit, so he stood right by the door. Rain slid down the windows, each wobbly streak illuminated by the yellows and oranges brushed across the sky. His destination felt like the faraway horizon, warm, dry, and colorful. It was hard to remain patient while the bus trundled along under this rain cloud. Wursley gently patted the outside of his jacket to make sure his package was still there. He already knew it was, but he had to be sur...

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The Obsession/SEVER

Submitted to Contest #329

Aruthers note *Warning this story has themes relating to mental health, suicide and substances abuse. Please proceed with caution if you think it will harm your mental* The Obsession—It's nothing too grand. Just a headspace. My imagination. My bravado. My soul. My lifeline. But at the end of the day—it’s all a game, is it not?Sevren rein— “Sevren rein.” A voice comes over the comms in the building.A gentle tap hits my shoulder. Then a whisper hits my ear.“Sevren. someone is calling you.” The voice says.I turn my head to the direction of the...

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The Allure of Other

Submitted to Contest #329

CW: Substance abuse, Mental health There were no signs indicating he was in the right location. Not that he had expected any. Afterall, making a purchase on the dream market was forbidden, with the punishment being death–an eternity without dreams.Just one last one. I need it tonight, and then I’ll have enough memories to carry me through the hard times, he thought. He didn’t truly believe that he could willfully do it, but considering the cost of the dream he desired, he might not have the coin to purchase another one. Not without ending so...

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