Horror
Voodoo Train
Maurice Breaux tried to hide his smile behind his cards. He was sitting on two sevens. Spades and hearts. He could work with this, but he wanted to eliminate Morgan from the table. He was still rather new to the game but was riding on a freight train of luck tonight. He gulped a bit of his ‘medicine’ from the flask in his jacket pocket. Morgan and Duncan each put in their blinds. The dealer looked at Maurice from behind darkened glasses.
By Zachary D. Sajdera3 years ago in Fiction
The Runaways
Clang! Martha shot up suddenly. The loud noise woke her from her deep slumber. She was in a private compartment in what clearly had to be a train. She could hear it rolling over the tracks below as well as a slight puffing sound from steam evidently blowing upwards somewhere nearby. The only light came from a light bulb overhead. What time was it? Looking at her watch, Martha could see it was 4:27 pm. She must have dozed off some time ago. She hoped they were close t0... "wait a minute, where am I?" she muttered.
By Matthew Cadow3 years ago in Fiction
Freight Line Rho
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. With her face pressed hard against the viewport of the HAB module, Amelia could have sworn she could hear the muffled scream of Creed, his face too pressed against a viewport. The swollen chunk of ship drifted away from Amelia, rotating slightly, before being swallowed by the engulfing darkness of space. She had just killed a man, an honest, hardworking family man who had landed her this job, sure, he wasn't dead right this second but in a few hours, a day at the outside, he would suffocate inside that module. Her Stomach knotted tightly at the thought but she couldn't peel herself away from the viewport.
By Ryan rhydderch3 years ago in Fiction
The experience of meeting a ghost bed in the school dormitory
I went out of the water room with washing utensils and complained more than once about the old dormitory of our school. There was not even an independent toilet. Fortunately, the water room was only separated from our dormitory by a wall.
By Eamonn Davies3 years ago in Fiction
The grudge in the river is looking for a substitute
Legend has it that resentful ghosts who died in traffic accidents like to find substitutes for death, and also like to find body doubles, as well as the ghosts of people who drowned. There are many rivers in my hometown. There used to be a river not far from my junior high school. Although the river is no longer clear, every summer, the boys in the class, especially the boys who live in the school, like to sneak to swim at night. The principal's speech after the flag-raising every Monday emphasized that he was not allowed to swim in the river whenever it was summer, saying that the river would take away a few lives every year.
By Eamonn Davies3 years ago in Fiction
Deadhead
1 - Ticket please Death was in the air, and he knew it. The storm violently rocked the ship back and forth. Captain Nathan Jarvis’ face was numb, salt the only thing he tastes. With the wheel in one hand and rope in the other, Nathan was sailing a suicide mission through a cat 4. It was azure blue just moments before; Nathan and his crew were headed off from bright and sunny Florida, but now, it was just him and one shipmate left.
By Tyler Hughes-Millman3 years ago in Fiction
Folklore: Coffin son
"Dao Chang, this... How can there be crying in this coffin? It can't be a fraudulent corpse!" Fang Jingyun took his wife Hou to hide behind the long road, a face of horror at their daughter Gavin's coffin. It was the day Gavin was to be buried, and as soon as the pallbearers had carried the coffin to the grave, the sound of a baby crying from inside made them afraid to ask for money and ran away.
By Na Dunshie3 years ago in Fiction
The Crawling Smoke
Through endless shafts of darkness flickered a green beam of light. It was cloaked in a mist thicker than a filthy pond. Bars enclosed the narrow windows in the roof, obstructing the view and allowing the night’s icy breath to spew frost down into the dark, rambling chamber. Cages crouched in the shadows, streaked with inky, black fluid that refused to dry in the saturated air. It left the floor cold and wet. Plus it reeked of the prisoner’s nerves that had erupted from their lurching stomaches onto the rust-covered plates.
By Charlotte Allen3 years ago in Fiction
Mama
I awoke to the feeling of polyester under me and utter darkness. The familiar symptoms of a panic attack set in as I realized that not only was I curled up in a small and dark unknown place, but that I was trapped. My heart began to race, my palms started sweating, and I could hear my breath becoming shallow over a familiar roaring noise that I had not yet identified. I began to focus on the noises in an attempt to ground myself, but the panic was slow to relinquish its grasp on me.
By Tyra Mitchell 3 years ago in Fiction
