Stories (419)
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The Veil
In the depths of Venice, where the narrow alleys curl like blackened tendrils and canals run dark as sin, Doge Palace loomed like a relic of unspeakable horrors. Its spires jutted upward, piercing the night sky, as though clawing for escape. Though the palace stood for centuries, it bore a dark history that clung to it like a curse, a place where myth and madness intertwined.
By Jason “Jay” Benskinabout a year ago in Fiction
The Reversal
The river ran backward on the day the Queen vanished. Its dark, viscous flow defied nature, retreating upstream with a violence that echoed the tumult brewing in the hearts of the kingdom’s denizens. What had once been a lifeline to the realm had morphed into a sinister current, swirling in hues of deep crimson, as if imbued with the very essence of despair.
By Jason “Jay” Benskinabout a year ago in Fiction
The Masshole Crossing
The fog clung to Plymouth like a suffocating veil, deadening every sound, swallowing every streetlight. No one with sense ventured out after dark. Everyone knew the stories—not ones about ghosts or werewolves, but about things that didn’t belong in this world. Creatures older than any myth. Things that waited.
By Jason “Jay” Benskinabout a year ago in Fiction
The Swarm Below
The town of Ecster kept its secrets buried deep, hidden beneath the surface. Once a thriving mining community, the tunnels stretched for miles underground. But that was decades ago, and the shafts had long since been sealed—forgotten relics of a boomtown era. That is, until a recent earthquake cracked open a sealed tunnel near The Masshole Crossing. When the ground split, something old and malevolent began to stir.
By Jason “Jay” Benskinabout a year ago in Horror
The Pallid Room
Mark never gave much thought to legends or haunted places. When he inherited his uncle’s sprawling manor in Ecster, he dismissed the unsettling stories tied to it. Locals murmured about "The Pallid Room" on the second floor, claiming strange things happened there—things they struggled to put into words. Mark scoffed. The tales felt like nothing more than desperate attempts to keep an old, dying town interesting.
By Jason “Jay” Benskinabout a year ago in Horror
The Feeding Ground
Mark hadn't planned to return to Ecster, the village where decay hung in the air like a disease. But a letter had arrived, written in a child's scrawl, with a message as chilling as the cold sweat that broke out on his skin when he read it:
By Jason “Jay” Benskinabout a year ago in Horror
The Door That Hungers
"There was only one rule: don’t open the door." Tina’s breath hitched as she stood before the warped wood, its jagged scars stretching like open mouths mid-scream. A sickly odor seeped through the gap at the bottom, a stench of decay and something fouler—something hungry. The house felt alive, a beast with wooden bones, and the door its crooked mouth, daring her to draw closer.
By Jason “Jay” Benskinabout a year ago in Horror
Silence
In the cursed village of Broken Arrow, nestled in a forgotten valley, shadows twisted like living things, and the air hung thick with the scent of decay. This was no ordinary place; it was a nexus of despair where reality bled into the grotesque. The townsfolk, gaunt and hollow-eyed, whispered of The Quiet Ones, an ancient cult that worshipped an eldritch entity known as Lachesis, who demanded a child as tribute every two decades. With each passing year, their sanity slipped further into madness, and the lullaby that lured children into the woods became a chilling soundtrack to their lives.
By Jason “Jay” Benskinabout a year ago in Horror
