Horror
Kittens and Horror
I was painting suddenly i heard a loud noise *CRASH*. I ran to my living room to see what was goining on, my cats had been running around and broke my vase. “Dang i knew i should have moved that,” I sighed. I had been picking up the pieces and sliced my hand open. “ Not again, i hate doing this every time,” I explained. As i was going to the kitchen to throw the glass away and clean my hand there was a knock at the door. *knock* *knock* *knock*
By Emily hill4 years ago in Fiction
As Above, So Below
" In the cradle, there is a blank nothingness. Nothing but the Kings and their colors. Their blinding hues that seep through every crack and memory left in my breaking mind. Their colors call on me, tell me my future lies in their hands, I just have to reach them, beyond the Wellspring.- The man who sees the Kings"
By KENNETH PEYTON4 years ago in Fiction
The Realm of the Hollow King
Chapter 1 The Girl down Hallows Boulevard. An old brick building stood amidst a dark October night. At the base of its stone steps was a lone street lamp, underneath a boy staring straight ahead. Leaves of red and orange rustled in the trees and blew about an empty street. A chill wind brushed around his brown ragged jacked. The door creaked. The boy pulled tight one of his fingerless gloves, with a sigh he brushed his hair back and began to ascend. As he grew closer he could hear movement and voices inside. He felt sick for a moment. Then with a growl he slammed his hand onto the door and swung it open! He stepped in before he could give it any thought. It was near completely black save for the light creeping in from the streetlamp. “Hello?” he called out..
By Michael Duclee4 years ago in Fiction
Lord Of Fire
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. The humans took care of that long ago. The carnage of their wrath had spread over the world like a blanket of death; forgotten steel blades, blood and bones; the landscape painted in a tapestry of graves, until there were no more dragons.
By Elizabeth Carver4 years ago in Fiction
They Swim in the Stars
Dear Mother, I didn’t mean to kill them, not really. It wasn’t my idea. It was the clouds. Mother, you have to believe me. I don’t know if you are getting my letters, but I need you to continue reading; you have to know it all. I could be telling you all of this now because of my guilt, maybe it’s the fact that my hair is coming out in clumps, or maybe I’m telling you now because of the stress rash I get on my stomach when I dwell over it for too long in one night. Maybe it’s paranoia. I look over my shoulder more times in one minute than anybody should in their entire life. The clouds, Mother, they were so loud, so convincing. They might kill me now, they’ve gone silent. We can convince them to take the both of us, I know we can. I’m getting off topic.
By Roger Bundridge4 years ago in Fiction
The Night Bellows
1 The Great Irony There weren’t always dragons in the valley. The Rectres told me that, long ago, the valley was sprawling with bright foliage and golden fruits that hung in abundance upon their many branches. That furred creatures replete with kilos of fresh flesh roamed and fought and played and mated. Before my time, that was normal, that wondrous Age of Plenty. An ignorant dream, I always thought, made by men too afraid to face the truth. Fairy tales and folklore, all. Even if the tales were true, the bedtime stories of a land without dragons proven to me, it would not change the world as it is. I am a Delver, nothing more. And I will never be but that.
By Jared Bennett4 years ago in Fiction
Two Sentence Horrors 11
Two Sentence Horrors 11 By Mark J. Wilcoxen 501. The dripping sound from Alan’s bathroom kept him from falling asleep. “That’s what I get pushing off repairing the drain in the basement and hanging my victims in the bathroom,” he grouched.
By Mark J. Wilcoxen 4 years ago in Fiction
The Haunting of Jonathan Jones
The rain was just starting as Jonathan Jones pulled up in front of the library. I’m not supposed to be here, he thought, staring at the harsh fluorescent glow spilling out of the windows into the October night. I should be home with my feet up, drink in hand, TV blaring, with a fat Scottish Terrier asleep on my lap. He ducked his head into the collar of his coat and hurried across the road before he could get too wet. The place was deserted, which was par for the course for a Friday evening.
By Nicholas Galante4 years ago in Fiction
The 12th Bus. Top Story - May 2022.
Quiet surrounded the station. The man leaned against a column half concealed by shadow, expressionless, deep in thought. He wore a grey double-breasted woollen jacket, black leather shoes and a black homburg hat, his eyes hidden under the tilted brim. The cold night-time air was speckled with moisture. Fog from the river crawled out from the darkness and made a diaphanous blanket across the road. Above him there was an old lamp shining down a cone of yellow, stuttering light. He drew on a cigarette and briefly regarded it before flicking it into the bin. It was almost time.
By Garry Morris4 years ago in Fiction
Perspicacity
Sometimes Jimmy just knew. He didn’t know how he knew, it just… was there. It was never anything extraordinary; he just… seemed to have fortune on his side is the best way to put it. He always seemed to be in the right place at the right time; he always had the word at the tip of your tongue; he always won at bingo. Good things just seemed to happen to him.
By Josh O'Neill4 years ago in Fiction
