Horror
The Nightmare I had
People say horror movies and stories are just for those who are strong. Who are bold enough. who can go anywhere in the dark. That is one way true. you should be very daring, very courageous to deal with stuff that you are exeperiencing the first time. Parents have always taught kids to be brave , take part , take initiatives, but what fears who and when, it is all with individual.
By Harsha Upadhyaya4 years ago in Fiction
The Endless Depths Of A Stolen Soul - Chapter Three.
3 The room, for Gavin, spiraled with more chaos than usual that night. He was lay, spread outward with loose and flimsy drunken limbs, and a gaze which struggled to fixate upon the crusted paint upon the ceiling. He’d averted his eye from the window when the alcohol bent shadows beyond comprehension. The trees grew taller, and his blurred vision offered the seeming mirage of something towering them too. The full blight of the alcohol’s force cracked like a cinder-block against his temple. Its poison danced about his veins and intertwined itself with blood. He wandered, amongst other things, whether the room would slip loose and topple around him. It seemed precariously hinged like playing a skipping rope with shuttered eyes.
By Martin S. Wathen4 years ago in Fiction
Forever is a long time
Everything moved in a blur around her. Victoria found herself crawling into her own mind as she watched the demons consume the old man. The doctors and nurses couldn't see what she was seeing. They couldn't smell the sulfur or hear the screams. The room had been thrown into chaos and her mind couldn't hold. Her eyes closed and down she went.
By Jennifer S. Benson 4 years ago in Fiction
Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman Scorned
I gave Michael a slow death. First, I picked his teeth, I hated them, they were always brighter than our future together. I loathed his perfect face too; those happy brown eyes, the thick well-trimmed eyebrows, the tight jawline, and the double chin. It was a handsome face, but even with his teeth out, his dimples kept smiling at me. I put down the pliers and picked up the pocketknife, with the precision of a sculptor I curved his dimples out. He screamed, my body shivered, and the inside of my pants developed an exciting moisture. I then licked the blood off my pretty tool. Its black handle glistened in my right hand, smudged red.
By Eve Muyanja4 years ago in Fiction
Cemetery House
Amelia scrubbed the wood floors of the living room. She scrubbed them three times a week, more if the weather was bad. And the weather had been bad. Storms had rolled in nearly a month ago and it hadn't stopped raining since. The house was old, rickety in some places, but with a solid roof and a good fireplace for cold and windy nights. The sunlight shone in through the black curtains she'd put up when the old man passed on. He joined his wife only two years after she had gone, leaving their young child in the care of a twenty year old maid. Amelia attempted to reach out to other relatives but no one replied. The child was so young and depressed and the townspeople pitied Amelia.
By Ash Phayge4 years ago in Fiction
The Eavesdropper
The congregation bowed their heads in reverent reflection as the vicar droned on about the evils of sin and the ultimate reward for the righteous. His ability to preach about topics they had recently been thinking about baffled them. This week’s sermon covered infidelity and the desires of the flesh versus chastity and faithful adherence to wedding vows. As he delved deeper into the subject, several women shifted uneasily on the church pew. Multiple men adjusted their gaze to the floor and refused to look up. They all felt as though he was addressing them directly. How could he sense what was on their minds?
By Mark Gagnon4 years ago in Fiction
