Horror
The Fissure in the Frost: A Psychological Winter Mystery
Mara told herself this was a break. The cabin was perfect—a sleek, modern box of cedar and glass tucked into the quiet mouth of a snow-dense forest. It was Emilia’s idea, of course. Emilia, hyperactive and relentlessly optimistic, believed a few lungfuls of fresh mountain air, far from the city’s grime and the memory of the difficult case Mara had just closed, would act as a psychic disinfectant.
By DARK TALE CO. 2 months ago in Fiction
In the Alpine Fog. Honorable Mention in The Forgotten Room Challenge.
"How much longer?" "Almost there." Angelina checked her Apple Watch. "Yeah — how long is almost?" "I don't know. 5 minutes? I'm not taking my gloves off to check my phone." Karl shuddered. He could see his breath in front of him as he and Angelina walked up the forested hill.
By Simone Rocca2 months ago in Fiction
Cleansed Now . Runner-Up in The Forgotten Room Challenge. Content Warning.
CONTENT WARNING: Some portions of this story may upset sensitive people or trigger bad memories. Liza occasionally took a glance out the window, giving her hands and eyes a quick rest from clothes ironing. Her hand ached from holding the heavy iron, and she wiped her brow with her apron. White round tufts on branches spread for acres, and she knew her children's hands would need loving care tonight from picking crops.
By Andrea Corwin 2 months ago in Fiction
The Forgotten Room. Content Warning.
There's a room at the end of the hall that hasn't been open for almost 80 years. There was a time that this was the most used room. Now it goes unused. This was the most favoured room at one point. But now you don't even notice the door when you walk by.
By Jen Phillips2 months ago in Fiction
Duck Blind
Oliver Green was the thirty-second victim of what was called Jodie Syndrome. Just like the thirty-one victims before him, he woke up in the Contagious Disease Department of Bronzeville Hospital. And, just like all the victims before him, he woke up with a splitting headache. He had no memory of his life before he opened his eyes in the hospital. He remembered his name. He remembered how to speak. But nothing that could tell him who he really was—where he was from, who his family was, what his job had been, whether he had money. It was all gone.
By David E. Perry2 months ago in Fiction
The Chasm
I woke to the sound of the rain slapping against the bedroom windows. It was six in the morning, and I really had no desire to get out of bed, but my stomach began to rumble, so begrudgingly, I dragged my old carcass to a standing position. The sky and the woods around my home were misty and gray. The house’s interior looked to be cloaked in a shroud of dull light even after I had switched on the lamps. Yes, this was the kind of day that darkened one’s soul. Nothing to do, no place to go, and no one to speak with except the uncaring rain. I didn’t think this day could get more depressing, but I was wrong.
By Mark Gagnon2 months ago in Fiction
Some Notes for the Project
Memo to Self: The following notes were found at the building site after a search was conducted by the replacement crew. No sign of the original workers hired is available except for the notebook discovered and recorded here. We will keep searching to see if we can discover what happened. And the notes might provide some sort of clue as to what went down. The owner of the original site cannot be contacted and we still have work to complete.
By Kendall Defoe 2 months ago in Fiction
The Room that Remembered. Content Warning.
He woke on cold stone, cheek pressed against grit. A throb pulsed behind his eyes—deep, steady, like a slow hammer striking bone. When he tried to move, pain shot through his shoulders. His wrists were bound behind him with coarse rope, tight enough to bite.
By SUEDE the poet2 months ago in Fiction
