Horror
Mot
The moon was full, and the skies were clear. The sun had set a few hours before and the nocturnal community was out. Perched high on a tree was a white and silver barn owl. He surveyed the valley watching three women approach the tree where he sat. They all wore similar robes of dark colors and carried a huge cast iron cauldron.
By Colt Henderson4 years ago in Fiction
Philosophy of Owlistocres
A brief treatise on the great works of Owlistocres. During the age of wisdom, in which owls ruled the world, there hatched a truly brilliant mind the likes of which have never been seen since. His name was Owlistacres. Make no mistake, you are pronouncing it wrong. To truly grasp this owl's genius one would have to be an owl, and as we are not, we can not.
By Hank Ryder4 years ago in Fiction
Just Between Friends
Junie Wade never had a real friend in all her 24 years on the planet. That is, unless you counted Sera. Both, complete social outcasts in Charlemagne, New Mexico, they managed to find one another when they needed help. It wasn’t a normal friendship where you went and did stuff together. More like a 911 call with no questions asked.
By Arlene Guillen4 years ago in Fiction
Briefly on the Mystery and Horrors of the Western Barn Owl
I looked an owl in the eyes two times in my life. They are a strange animal, more like a flashing ghoul rather than living, breathing creatures. In either experience, I could feel the essence of a great wisdom in nature bringing with it the stuff of death.
By American Wild4 years ago in Fiction
Orange
As Rina slipped into the bath, she remembered instantly why she always hated them. She could only recall a handful of baths in her lifetime; all in her childhood, never voluntary. Her Papa would tug at her hair like it was a wild animal, brushing out the tangles in her fine curls like it was his mission to make her cry. The water would grow tepid and opaque with her filth, her skin cells floating in the water and the grime only seeming to burrow deeper into her little bones. And worst of all, she hated the quiet when her father would step outside the bathroom door, leaving it cracked just enough so he could hear her if she drowned, so Rina could hear him argue with any number of people on the phone—mostly her Mama.
By Anastasia Barbato4 years ago in Fiction
A Black Horror Story
“Are you sure this is the spot?” Tariq squeaked. Standing at 6’4” and weighing over 200 pounds, he recognized that he looked absolutely ridiculous hiding behind his 5’10”, 170 pound teammate Jake, but Jake wasn’t a Black man in the middle of nowhere.
By Sunflower Starchild4 years ago in Fiction
Gee Dad, I Goofed
Tommy Parker was eleven when he found out that most other eleven year-olds no longer wet the bed. He had been invited to a birthday sleepover party for his friend Tristan and had fallen asleep without remembering to put on his absorbent underpants his mother had packed for him and in the night he had an accident.
By Tony Marsh4 years ago in Fiction
LIQUID NIGHT
You humans are vile. You would call us animals or beasts, and yet you should take a long hard look at yourselves. Take a step back into shadow and analyse your actions. I may eat mouse's and vermin to survive, and be labelled, an animal, but I watch this man now, hunting this woman in loose darkness and I despair.
By Dom Watson 4 years ago in Fiction
