Horror
The Croft
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It cast its sickly, flickering light sparsely across the stunted, gnarled gorse bushes that huddled close to its crumbling walls. Inside, a ragged, bedraggled man huddled close to the remnants of the fireplace and piled a pathetic tumble of moss and dead wood in its empty belly.
By S. A. Crawford4 years ago in Fiction
Aerodynamics
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The plane crashed in 2067, two hundred long years before the night of the living dead. Legend said the crew aboard that plane was the last hope for saving the American Resistance against the warfare of its own government.
By Andrea Standby4 years ago in Fiction
Voices heard
"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window." Understand, it got on a night just like this when a little woman went missing in these timbers. The rangers exposed her name was Man Wai, and she had gone camping with her woman precursor army. That opening night, when everybody was collected around the campfire, the little girl ignored what she had been taught concerning sticking with her camp friend. She heard a little rustle in the nearby brush as well as believed she simply may capture a rabbit to maintain as an animal. She silently snuck off after the audio.
By Susanna Flavius4 years ago in Fiction
The Talking Place
THE TALKING PLACE The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Inside, two tower-climbers for American Cellular sat, huddled around the schematic diagram of tower #314, or the Cotuit, (pronounced ko-to-it) a Wampanoag word meaning the talking place, as it was informally known by the locals. The tower climbers were, at present, waiting out a particularly wicked Nor’easter before making the climb up tower 314 for an unscheduled inspection after the locals complained about an incessant, high pitched whirring coming from the mountain.
By Ashley McCauliff4 years ago in Fiction
Walking sided by side in the dark
It is often said that people, especially those who love each other, should know and understand each other, and preferably be transparent to each other and have a heart to heart. Schweitzer, however, says in "My Teenage Years" (for a Chinese translation, see the book "Awe of Life" translated by Chen Zehuan) that this is impossible, and even if it were possible, no one has the right to make such demands of others. "Not only is there physical shame, but there is also spiritual shame, which we should respect. The mind also has its trappings, and we should not take them off." As with the mystery of God, so with the mystery of another person's soul, we cannot read and know it as if it were a book that belongs to us, but can only give love and trust. Each person is a secret to others, and we should accept this fact. People who love each other are only "walking side by side in the darkness", and all they can do is to strive for the light in their hearts, and to feel this effort and encourage each other, without "looking into the faces and hearts of others".
By BlossomParker4 years ago in Fiction
The Final Ashes
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. "Finally, I thought to myself. It's time." I swiftly and silently made my way up to the attic in my dimly lit house. Under a small window in view of the village, I pried a pre-packed bag out of a hidden compartment in the wall alongside a candle of my own. I fumbled through my pack to grab my match book. The smell of sulfur filled my nostrils as I struck a match to light the candle. A chill of excitement flowed down my spine as I placed my own beacon of hope in the window.
By Rebeka Nguyen4 years ago in Fiction
Prop Hunt
“Liz. You and Gerard take the back entrance. New kid, you’re with me on the front door. On my count…3...2...1…GO” The fireteam split in two, Albert watched his two friends make their way around the large Victorian English building, their blackened tack vests making them look like ghostly shadows in the night. He griped his assault rifle tighter as he slowly approached the door with his Commanding officer. With a series of hand gestures that silently communicated what he wanted him to do, Albert slowly opened the door. Their leader, a 47-year-old veteran hunter named Luke, was the first to enter, followed swiftly by Albert. This was Alberts first official hunt. First time seeing a Mimic alive in person since his parents were killed by one several years ago. He was a kid back then and couldn’t do anything to save them, but a secret society called the Dark Beast Hunters had rescued him that night. The top-secret, ancient order had existed for thousands of years hidden to the rest of the world as their sworn duty was to protect it from creature of dark and sinister origins. They had trained the now 17-year-old teenager, at his request, so that he could exact his revenge.
By Nathaniel Maiocco4 years ago in Fiction
The Stench of Revenge
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The flame began its ascent like fingers slowly separating from a fist. As the light wiped the sleep from the corners of the empty cabin, the shadows were delighted upon seeing their reflection once again. Their friend and foe, the light, highlighted their curves and they danced in the flicker.
By Samantha Moorer4 years ago in Fiction
My Name is Susan. Runner-Up in Campfire Ghost Story Challenge.
"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window." “Any story that begins with that is bound to be the dumbest thing I ever heard,” Marcel huffs, as he springs from his seat near the fire and stomps away toward the cottage.
By Cathy holmes4 years ago in Fiction
Folly
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Its flame leaned into another wick. Fire spread. Wax dripped. Sebastian Rudolph Harold knew men his size shouldn’t snicker. The wrestler was a slab of Ivy League beefcake six and a half feet tall. He snickered anyway.
By Matthew Melmon4 years ago in Fiction
Shattered
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. "What a relief," Jake sighed exhaustedly. He'd been looking for help since his car broke down a few miles back. He couldn't go back to town to get a tow; the police there would definitely be looking for him. Cops tend to frown on people who rob a liquor store and kill one of them while escaping. Jake had only managed to escape the patrols, but with the barking and howling behind him, he was sure search dogs were on his trail. Diving into a pond filled with god-knows-what could only mask his scent for so long.
By Adam Wallace4 years ago in Fiction
