K.H. Obergfoll
Bio
Writing my escape, planning my future one story at a time. If you like what you read—leave a comment, an encouraging tip, or a heart. It is always appreciated!!
& above all—thank you for your time
Achievements (1)
Stories (133)
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The Corridor That Remembered: A Record from the Faculty of Forgotten Rooms
"The dead only know one thing" -Private Joker, Full Metal Jacket “Naturally, this could be one of many things, but a thing nonetheless as you will come to learn. Nothing here is what is seems. This world might not scare you yet, but it will slither out of your mind long after your soul leaves your fleshly confines. So be wary of the witches who teach at night and prey by day. By this we know, as long as you have knowledge as your defense, and light as your guide you are safe, safe with me.” ~K.H. Obergfoll, first year studies from the Library Below “Academic Perfection” Circa Thirteen-Hundred and Fifty-Five, Witches Guild of All Things New and Retrieved: The Original.
By K.H. Obergfoll2 months ago in Fiction
Remembering Room: Skeleton Key
[[Mystical, dark and dreamlike]] The room at the end of the hall meant everything and nothing to Coraline Parker. She was the only true living heir to her father’s estate, but that was only because her Aunt Meg refused to stay longer than a week. Meg Parker was a sour, willful, dreadfully calculated old woman who was the other half of her father in every way except death— though some would argue, she might as well join him there too because she was far too fearful to do anything remotely bordering on fun.
By K.H. Obergfoll2 months ago in Fiction
The Crossing. Runner-Up in Through the Keyhole Challenge.
“Put that down,” a voice hissed angrily from somewhere in the corner of a dark room that looked more like an errant garage. A man with large open sores and mangled limbs sat whimpering in a chair as he pushed a bag of ice onto a patch of mottled skin. His hands desperately clinging to the relief it temporarily provided.
By K.H. Obergfoll3 months ago in Fiction
The Lighthouse Lantern Witch of Saltwater Coven
“Sea Witch!” “Sea Witch!” “Sea Witch!” “Be damned to the darkest depths of hell.” A gavel sounded. It was much hollower than usual. The rain collected in the basin of the old trees’ trunk. The leaves had turned brown and dropped dead to the Earth. The vibration of the virtuous rapping travelled up through the branches and snaked down the very ropes that would hang several accused sea-witches that month.
By K.H. Obergfoll3 months ago in Fiction
