Horror
Escape from the Cooinda Cycle: Part One
“I've been looking for freedom, Since I left my home town, I've been looking for freedom,” I was singing along as loud as I could clapping where I could without losing control of the vehicle. As the song came to its crescendo, I belted out the final line in time with The Hoff.
By Savannah K. Wilson3 years ago in Fiction
To See The Sun
Although the outside world was unknown to her, she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. She went toward it and peeked through the slit where one dark gray curtain lay close to, but not quite against, the other. She leaned forward, inch by inch, taking care not to touch the curtain with any part of her body – Daddy would be mad if she did that.
By Laura Pruett3 years ago in Fiction
The Underwood Dragon
Lilly is on school holidays; she went camping with her parents. She is sitting in her new Landcruiser, her parents assume there is enough space inside the Landcruiser to sleep and eat. But Lilly knows there's not enough space in the car. Lilly has a dog named Jeffy. He is coming to camp. Her brother Jordan does not want to come because Jeffy licks him and then Jeffy’s saliva comes out of his mouth and dribbles on Jordan's pants. I know that is a bit disgusting anyway, but Lilly’s parents decided that they were going to Underwood Island. In stories and news Lilly heard there are volcanoes, which are big and black. It has fire in it. Lilly said she is not scared of volcanoes if they do not erupt during my school holidays.
By Syeda Tamseel Fatima3 years ago in Fiction
H.A.S.T.E.
She was beautiful. Not in the crass, veiled manner, he was used to; but soft, glowing. The innocence pierced him. He wasn’t used to feeling this light and hollowed out. The warmth she brought was undeniable, and by far the purest thing he had ever felt in his otherwise voided life. Who was he, that she would come here with him? Talk to him? Understand him? The guilt, like molasses, flowed slowly throughout his body, pressurizing his veins and bloating his neck. He shouldn’t be here, but he was; because she was. There was nothing else that mattered to him anymore. He wasn’t sure there was anything else, to begin with. Just her. Just that look of….Wait? That look of….
By David Harper3 years ago in Fiction
Somebody is death
Somebody has passed on. Of this, I'm sure. I know it since I generally know it. As I lie here alone in this large, void bed and stand by listening to the downpour, I recall it as it gets back to me, this belief, this fear, skittering all over my throat with 1,000 little legs. It gets comfortable in my stomach like an incredible stone, a strong, nauseating weight. It is foul in its greatness and unquestionable in its commonality. Somebody has passed on. I don't have any idea who.
By Blaise Ticha3 years ago in Fiction
LONDON SHARK: CHAPTER FOUR
you can find the prologue and all previous chapters here C h a p t e r F o u r THE MAN WALKS WITH PURPOSE, his hair (slightly shaggy, definitely auburn dashed with peroxide tips, I see now) lightly bouncing on an exposed white shirt collar that’s peeping out from his peacoat. The purpose in his gait is one of freedom, of vigour. This is because he . . . he has the remnants of Hannah’s fingerprints still wrapped around his own digits, while the loveless clamminess I feel balled up in my fist is probably sweat, although, with the pressure I’ve been squeezing my fingernails into my palms, it’s quite possibly blood.
By jamie harding3 years ago in Fiction
Winning Submissions
This summer, I submitted four poems and two stories to Behind the Vision's 2021-2022 The Next Generation contest. Three entries (one poem—a haiku—and both stories) were selected for publication. Below, I'll share those submissions and the prompts which inspired them.
By Maia Gadwall the metAlchemist3 years ago in Fiction
Now You're a Stensen
“Archibold, shut up and drink your blood!” came the shrill voice of Shavina from the other room. The young, pubescent vampire looked glumly down at his blood porridge. Shavina was a strict health addict who always made his blood curds, lovingly known as porridge, without sugar.
By Emily Marie Concannon3 years ago in Fiction
Vampire Hunters
So now you know how my brother and I became vampires. However, you still don't know why we hunt them down and kill demons. Actually, that story is quite simple. It was a brisk spring morning forty-nine years after the night our mother was killed by Jedadiah. We were now Roman soldiers and very high rankings ones at that. We were Centurions, we were over two different Centuria of course. However, we were in the same legion. I believe you do know the story of the crucifixion of the Messiah. How two Roman soldiers nailed Him to the cross and hoisted it up into the hole as his body jolted in pain. Yeah, those two soldiers were my brother and I.
By Jorden Dunbar3 years ago in Fiction
The Passengers
The Ferryman guided the gondola along a watery path only he knew the secrets to as it transported a half dozen specially chosen masked passengers to an exclusive event. Though each eyed him with suspicion, they appeared confident he would get them to their destination. They had to believe that because he was their only means of travel.
By D. L. Lewellyn3 years ago in Fiction
