Theresa M Hochstine
Bio
Hochstine is a fiction author in WNY who concentrates most of her energy on the Horror and Contemporary fiction authors. Hochstine is very liberal, Pro-LGBTQ+, Pro-Women, and Pro-Education. Read. Read. Read.
Achievements (1)
Stories (20)
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Abigail & A Thing Called It. Content Warning.
Abigail’s parents were at their whits ends. She was 7 years old now, a year ago, she had no problem going to sleep on her own. But since her birthday a few weeks ago, she has put up a fight every night at bedtime. Abigail told her parents a tale of a slithery shadow. “It’s been watching me sleep.” She tells mom and dad.
By Theresa M Hochstine2 months ago in Horror
When the Bones are Good
The door was heavier than I remembered, but the hinges were weak with rust. I leaned in, my body pressed up against the frame and shoved. I stumbled into the room clumsily, gripping the knob still so as not to crash down to the floor. There were tiles missing in the linoleum, and the white, floral white paper had taken on a dingy yellow stain.
By Theresa M Hochstine2 months ago in Fiction
Dissociate. Content Warning.
I was alone when it happened. The air was chilly, and I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk on King Street. “Ouch.” I said it out loud and caught my balance. I pulled a black hood over my head and buried my hands in my front pockets. I remember my toes beginning to feel numb and a cold chill ran through my body with a shudder.
By Theresa M Hochstine3 months ago in Fiction
The Last 7 Seconds. Honorable Mention in A Knock at the Door Challenge.
Thump. Thump. Thump. The gentle tapping pulled my attention from my sleeping husband. I straightened my back with a ricocheted crack and groaned. After a quick survey of the room, I continued trying to get Percy out of his chair.
By Theresa M Hochstine3 months ago in Fiction
Hysterectomy
Tamara tapped her coffee mug nervously with her pointer finger. The matte black nail polish on her fingers were chipped and her nail edges were jagged, sharp from repetitive biting. Her foot tapped the linoleum floor the way a woodpecker hammers a tree. The kitchen was dim, only a single bulb on the three-bulb ceiling fan was lit, and the light was weak but reflected off the lavender colored walls shone like gold. Tamara could hear the cat’s water fountain echoing sound fading into the distance. Her mind was far from easy. “I never wanted kids anyway,” she silently reminded herself as she read over the procedure guidelines for her upcoming hysterectomy. “1. Read and follow all pre-operative instructions. 2. Drink plenty of water and fluids. 3. Get all your prescriptions filled. 4. Shop for any necessary food. (Try to get prepared meals that just need to be placed in the oven.) 5. Choose an advocate.” Choose an advocate, it says. Well Tamara knew right away who that advocate would be. Her younger sister, Lottie. The Skelling sisters were best friends, and they were always each other's advocates. Her tapping stopped and a slight, momentary smile came to her face. Almost like a smirk but without sarcasm. Tamara was looking forward to spending the few days with her. And as if summoned by her sister's thoughts, Lottie’s car pulled into the driveway. She grabbed her gym bag, water bottle and keys then walked out of her house, locking the door behind her.
By Theresa M Hochstine3 months ago in Confessions
Kimberly
“Shut the fuck up!” Kimberly screeches and throws a small ceramic cat at the wall. The children duck and run for cover as shards splatter across the room. The youngest, age five, hyperventilating, screaming as tears rushed down her blotchy red face. Her blonde pig tails we’re twisted like a bird's nest and sticky with yesterday’s pancake syrup.
By Theresa M Hochstine4 months ago in Horror
St. Petersburg. Content Warning.
"Hurry up loser! We're going to be late to the airport!" Shaun called out to me from the window of his 2017 silver Buick Encore. He had his pink board shorts on with a plain white v-neck t-shirt and his black Ray-Ban sunglasses. His dark brown curls, fluttered with the summer breeze.
By Theresa M Hochstine2 years ago in Horror
Joshua. Content Warning.
I stood there, fetchingly draped against the door frame studying every inch of Joshua's anatomy. His dark, raven-colored curls illuminated by the candlelight. He had a dark, well-groomed full beard and mustache that matched his head. I could see the outline of his refined angular jawline and his line; coral pink lips glistened from his repetitive licking. His neck delicate and soft; his shoulders were broad, and his arms strong and shielding. My gaze aimed lower, and I began to explore the lower regions of his being with my eyes. I played the song Training Wheels by Melanie Martinez. Josh sat up on the edge of the bed and watched in bewilderment as I got down on my hands and knees crawled seductively closer to him. I danced on him rolling my hips and twerking my ass on his naked frame. Observing in arousal as his intromittent organ grew firmer by the second.
By Theresa M Hochstine2 years ago in Horror
