Stories (419)
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She Forgot How to Scream
At midnight, the bell tolled. Not from a church. Not from any clock. The sound came from inside the house—low and wet, like bones grinding through water. It reverberated through the walls and into her teeth. The windows trembled. The floor moaned.
By Jason “Jay” Benskin8 months ago in Horror
The Blue Checkmark
She tried to scream, but the sound stuck in her throat like shards of broken glass. The figure visible in the window remained motionless, standing there against the flickering neon of the motel—an obsidian outline pressed against the glass as if it had stamped itself on her soul.
By Jason “Jay” Benskin9 months ago in Horror
The Architects of the Shattered Flesh
It began with you, though to call it a beginning was a lie crafted to soothe what little mind you had left. The first scars didn't appear—they awoke, slithering out from beneath your skin like worms tasting the air. Pale and twitching, they cut themselves into your ribs, thighs, arms—soft places first, tender places, leaking thin streams of blackened blood that hissed when it hit the air.
By Jason “Jay” Benskin9 months ago in Horror
The Crayon Man's Mark
I can still hear the echo of my mother's voice calling me in for dinner, a sweet serenade that cascaded through the air like a gentle melody. Her voice was a soothing balm, a radiant glow that enveloped my senses in a cocoon of warmth and security. But now, the memory of that warmth is a ghost, haunting me in a place where the sun never rises, where shadows stretch endlessly.
By Jason “Jay” Benskin9 months ago in Horror
Beyond Eden
2147 — The Year Earth Sighed By 2147, Earth finally heaved a long, hard sigh. The endless barrage of wars, borders, and famines had been mercilessly swept away—not by revolution, but by relentless optimization. The air was scrubbed by vast, drifting filters. Diseases were exterminated by micro-engineered immune boosters. Hunger had been rendered obsolete by replication tech that could force a banquet to emerge from mere sunlight and carbon.
By Jason “Jay” Benskin9 months ago in Futurism
Perfectly Aligned
It all began with her mouth. Not her words—those were refined and articulate, each syllable floating with an elegant grace reminiscent of a feather on the breeze, as only Ms. Whitlock could deliver. But it was the movement of her lips when she smiled—a lopsided, insubordinate smirk that never quite conformed. It leaned ever so slightly to the left, much like a crooked painting on a wall.
By Jason “Jay” Benskin9 months ago in Horror
The Unsettling Neighbor
They told me the house was empty—foreclosed, condemned, a festering pit of vermin and decay. Yet on my first night in the damned neighborhood, an overwhelming sense of malice clawed at my mind. At 121 Ash Lane, a solitary light shuddered in the window, its weak, quivering glow barely repelling the creeping darkness. A lone bulb, swinging like a vengeful pendulum in the attic, threw jittery, distorted shapes that simultaneously summoned and repelled me.
By Jason “Jay” Benskin9 months ago in Horror
