Horror

Visits
Life after grandma dying didn’t seem the same. I really had no one to talk to anymore, was always distracted at school and distanced myself from all my friends. Months went by before my friends decided to force a conversation with me. My three closest friend’s Daisy, Cindy, and Olivia all approached me after school one day and forced me to sit down and talk with them. I agreed, so we went to go talk on the school playground. As I sat on the first swing Daisy broke the silence by explaining that she came across a way to talk to family members that weren’t around anymore. I stoped swinging and without looking at Daisy asked, “communicating with the dead”? Ignoring my question, Cindy then shared how Daisy and her were talking to her grandma, Cindy’s grandma then explained to them about a board game they could make to help me communicate with my grandma. I asked Cindy what started this conversation they both stayed quite and together they said Cindy’s grandma just told them. Olivia tried comforting me by saying a lot of people have tried communicating with their loved ones and some actually got to talk to them. I was very skeptical and still shocked they would try and bring this up, but honestly I was very curious as I missed conversing with my grandma. After talking some more about what would be needed and were to go to do this, we decided to meet at the closest cemetery to our houses on Friday at 2 am, an hour before the witching hour.
By Gabriel Gomez4 years ago in Fiction
Uncanny Valley
When a person like me goes camping or hiking, it is a guarantee that I would wander lost. I accepted this fact, assuming that I’d only be lost for an hour or two before recognising a gnarled tree, or happen upon the path again. Just like getting lost while driving, a familiar landmark always steers me in the right direction.
By Eloise Robertson 4 years ago in Fiction
The Mice Inside Me
I am a barn without an owl. Last night, and every night since the weather turned cold and the horses were ushered in with their clip-clop hustle, the mice underfoot have taken refuge, tunneling through hay and scurrying along the beams. I scarce can stand the noise. They creep beneath my skin the moment I get still.
By Christina Marie4 years ago in Fiction
BROKER
BROKER CHAPTER I: The Eyes Have It It is often said that, out of desperation, he would survive most of the bad luck that seemed to always come his way. And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it … bad luck, bad days, bad timing, bad decisions … this was his curse. Always bad.
By Thomas G Robinson4 years ago in Fiction
The Prizefighter.
This is my first foray into crime fiction. After falling on October 27, 2021 and shattering every bone in my right wrist and ankle, I taught myself how to write using strictly speech-to-text on my phone. "The Prizefighter" was one such story.
By Real Monsters 4 years ago in Fiction
My Worst Nightmare
“Mom and dad are going to kill me!” I think to myself as a I check the time for the 100th time since leaving the party. 12:37 am. I was supposed to be home an hour ago. Of course, I had waited until the last second to leave and since I have the worst luck in the world, my car wouldn’t start. My only saving grace was that there is never a shortage of guys who can take an engine apart and put it back together with their eyes closed at a field party in the middle of nowhere, so they were able to get me going. I’ve been telling my parents for weeks that something isn't right with this pile of junk.
By C. Rhodes4 years ago in Fiction
A walk in the woods
This night after a very stressful day I decide uncharacteristically to take a walk in the woods in the middle of the night. The moon is full and bright lighting my way. At first my pace is a slow stroll listening to the quiet calm. The calming sound of a trickle from a stream near by puts my mind at ease and the stress from the day finally starts to fade away.
By Julie Fodor4 years ago in Fiction
Omen
Samuel heard the first screech when he was sitting in front of his fireplace, idly whittling at a branch from the firewood pile. He had always had a hard time sleeping, ever since he was a young boy. He had found his ways to pass the time while the rest of the village was asleep.
By Iz Bohlman4 years ago in Fiction
Ordinary Murder
I’m not going to be impulsive about this. No, no. Let’s see, I’ve given this plenty of thought. I must have stood here in the shower for at least half an hour before I realised that I was going to have to kill her. I don’t know that I made a decision; I just ran out of alternatives. Silly really. I always think of murderers – yes dear, this is murder we're talking about. Better get used to the idea. Murder. Murder. Murder. Feel better now? Where was I? Murderers. Oh yes. I always think of murderers as being cold, heartless men whose mothers didn't love them or teach them good respectful human values. Men who prey on women and have no feelings. Have to revise that dear. Put in a new category: ordinary people who despair. Come to think of it, I dare say there are a good few people who fall into that category. Good. Well, that bit's sorted out.
By Suzsi Mandeville4 years ago in Fiction
Between The Boards
When I was in 5th grade, my older sister and I had a Halloween party at our childhood home. But this was no ordinary, grade school Halloween party.
By Tiffany.4 years ago in Fiction
Maiah and The Barn Owl.
Sitting under her porch in her rocking chair, with a cup of hot cocoa and a magazine, Maiah seems to be living her best life. She and her beautiful mansion inside a wrought iron fence ornated with flowers and pieces of broken bottles. Everyone sees happiness, success, and satisfaction on the outside as they admire the two-story mansion flatteringly pink and white, with a large pool patio on the roof. This mansion makes Maiah famous, as everyone has something to say about this house; it becomes a topic to debate at parties, funerals, family gatherings, even Quincenearas. Yes, that is how famous this mansion is. One weird thing about this mansion, other than the construction workers who built it, nobody else has been inside. Many have tried to get in; they pose as handymen, electricians, even house investigators. One thing they do not know is Maiah can do it all. Despite being loaded, Maiah lives a low-key life, never throws a party, never has people coming over. She mows her lawn, cleans her pool, paints her home, waters her garden like it's no big deal.
By Marie Soffy Saint Fort4 years ago in Fiction
My Families Curse
Let me begin how all other stories begin, from the beginning. So in the beginning there was my grandma and my grandpa on my moms side of the family. My family started with a friendship that blossomed into a bond that is so strong that not even death could part them. Let me put it as my grandma did, "We were two very opposites who really did attract." Him being in the air force, and her a student at the college in Virginia, they were not a match made in heaven let me tell you. They met one day while he was stationed there. He noticed her as she was coming out of a convenient store with her friends from school and that is when he made the mistake of his life, he whistled at her and hollered out saying, "Hey there sexy lady, come here!" Well you see my grandpa was a rolling stone but my grandma, now she is a proper lady. I mean dresses, hair up in a bun the works. She walks up to him maintaining a smile and didn't say a word, she balled up her fist and before he knew it she had punched him dead in his face. As he was picking his ass up off the ground she asked, "Do I look like a dog to you sir?" He said, "No ma'am!!" While he was rubbing his cheek and smiling back at her. She said, "Well then I suggest you address me as a lady, and ask me out on a date." He said, "Yes ma'am, will you please go to the movies with me tomorrow evening?" She said, "Now that is more like it, yes, yes I will." Thus started my family tree. Oh she was his rock when he needed to feel grounded and he was her wings when she wanted to feel free. They ended up marrying and having three children, two sons and one daughter, my momma.
By Beth Owens4 years ago in Fiction