Horror
Daniel and the Reaper
Tick-tock went the clock as Daniel walked the busy street with the swiftness of a man who needed to get to the bank before it closed, as if his life depended on it. Quite to the contrary, however, he would soon come face to face with an abrupt realignment of perspective. It came in the form of a diesel truck that greeted him as he slipped and stumbled into the street, face snapping up just in time to meet eye to eye with the dull dual glow of the truck’s dim gazing lights.
By Conor McClain4 years ago in Fiction
Thaw Creatures
Introduction Living Conditions It is the year 2097 and almost 73% of the Polar Ice Caps have melted since the completion of "The Vast Shift". In 2032 the Earth's axis completely switched polarities and melted the glaciers. Most of what is the northern part of North America is at the North pole and under what is remaining of ice. The sun moved closer to the Earth and humans are unable to live above ground. They can soak up the suns energy and grow food in the shade, but if a living being were to step into the direct sun, they would receive major fourth-degree burns.
By Angela Gerber4 years ago in Fiction
The Hobbled Knight
He shambled along the derelict cobblestone path, the two shadows escorting him bore the silhouette of his rusted armour, but none of its tainted odour. The twin moons, Osandor and Ralendor, were both full once every three years, and tonight their reunion turned even the most mundane surfaces into dim mirrors of their brightness, making it one long day, or Allday, as it had come to be known over the generations.
By Shane Kirby4 years ago in Fiction
The Drive
1. Clara Traveling during the holidays is almost always a nightmare. Throw two teenage siblings who can't get along in a car for a 10 hour drive, makes it that much worse. They think this trip is just to see their grandparents, but it's much more than that. Making memories is really important, from the time they were little, I have always gone above and beyond to try and give them a good life even when our circumstances were bullshit. I tried every single day to at least make one good thing happen for them, it turns out that it was a waste of time. Maybe it's because they're teenagers, maybe i just raised assholes, i'm not sure which it is honestly, but i am done trying so hard.
By Britt Hughett4 years ago in Fiction
The Shambling Men
June 6th 1918 There were seven of us then. Across from me sat Dutch struggling to light his cigarette. His matches damp from the drizzle that had only just subsided. He was the only British soldier amongst us. He was a large able-bodied man, though perhaps a bit old. His bushy mustache looked to have started to grey at least a few years ago.
By Camden Jurewicz4 years ago in Fiction
One Wish
She came on the first day of June. That was the first time. I remember it was hot outside, some of the attendants were complaining. I couldn't feel it though. I could hardly even see the sun anymore; they put bars on my windows. For protection, but I wasn't sure if it was for me or them. They didn't tell me and I didn't ask. That was how it worked.
By Madison Betcher4 years ago in Fiction
0.1 Percent
The screams… all I heard were the screams of my people, suffocating and dying right in front of me. Death surrounded me like it was part of the air. The horrible winds that blew directly at us had a haunting sound to them that made me uneasy. The screams of my people that accompanied it made it all the more disturbing as I had a feeling this was the end. I wanted to shield my eyes from the horrors I saw but I knew if I wanted to stay alive, I had to keep fighting.
By Juan Eckard4 years ago in Fiction
Noplace
The grime doctor shuffled down the corridor, his joints clicking and shuffling like reams of old paper. He wore shoes, or at least he thought he did, but sometimes he wasn’t sure what was artificially attached to him and what was actually a part of his body. But if he was wearing shoes, he was confident that they would be brown shoes. The grime doctor had always preferred brown to black, and anyway, if they were black they wouldn’t match his tan slacks, unless he wasn’t really wearing slacks and they were just a part of his body too. The grime doctor didn’t know, he didn’t care to make distinctions like that. Everything was just another something at the end of the day, and all somethings seemed-- to him at least-- to have more or less the same purpose as everything else.
By M. S. Bird4 years ago in Fiction
