Horror
The Birdwatchers
Three months into Ava’s new job, and she has never once gone home on time. It bothered her at first. She felt that she was losing valuable free time, that her boss was disappointed at her sluggish pace, that her life had simply become a cycle of sleep, eat, work, sleep, eat, work with no time for her to socialize or to engage with her hobbies. She used to knit and play the ukulele, but now she has moved to the city and taken a high paying job and all she can do is work.
By George Murray4 years ago in Fiction
419 Churchill Lane
“As soon as I turned into the neighborhood, I saw it. I saw the horrendous sight of 419 Churchill Lane surrounded by blaring sirens and dense gray smoke that lit up red and blue with each flash of the siren and blanketed the surrounding area with ash and ember. I was stricken with shock, almost constricting my body, then a rush of adrenaline hit me once I recalled that my wife and twins were in there. I sped the car up to arrive as fast as possible and instantly jumped out of the car once there, forgetting– and frankly, not caring in that moment of time– to remove my key from the ignition and close the door behind me. I blazed towards the door as aggressively as the fire was blazing before I was stopped by a fireman who told me ‘Sir, this fire is too intense for…’ That was all I heard before I shoved him out of my way and sped towards the door. The fire was not nearly as intense as my fear that my family was still in there and my foolish impulse to rush in and save them, even though I was totally unprepared to enter the fire that seemed to reach the heavens and that burned as hot as hell. And that’s when I saw a sight so… so… so grim I wouldn’t even wish it upon the lunatic who killed my father.
By Messiah Smiley4 years ago in Fiction
Moonlight in Park
Since before life first dared to crawl from its cave in the middle of the night, the Moon has shone in the sky. As cats cry on fences, wolves howl, and lunatics exercise their right to be crazy, people have blamed strange behavior on the light of the Moon. Most horror movies encourage this superstition as they cast the Moon as an actor in its production. Scientists will explain that the Moon is not magical. It doesn’t even create its own light. It is not a star, but a reflection of the sun’s brilliance. But could it be more? Could the Moon change the wavelength of the daystar’s energy? Could Moonlight be a catalyst of violence?
By Kipp Martines4 years ago in Fiction
Reality
What is reality, really? The doctors say that it is what they see and hear, that when one is sane, reality is known intimately, without question. I ask them, “How do you know that what you believe to be reality, is truly so?” And they smile that small condescending smirk that they have, hand out their little pills, and say, “Trust us, we know what is real. You do not.”
By Hailey Molenda4 years ago in Fiction
Mindtaker
THUMP. Thick rope ends slam onto the leaves and sticks of the jungle floor from the low flying military transport helicopter above. The wind from the rotary blades pressing down on the trees and flinging leaves into the air, disrupting the once peaceful Cambodian rainforest. A tropical jungle thriving in complete nature. Through the mist, three more rope ends fall from the helicopter. Following seven special forces soldiers, the elite alpha squadron. They slide down their ropes into the jungle with their guns at the ready and their mission in mind, to locate and rescue the American foreign aid worker held at ransom by a local militia. They instantly blend into the surroundings with their black and green camouflaged overalls and begin their advancement into the thick jungle, initiated by a hand order from their Sergeant, Hicks, as he looks back to see their only transport fly off into the afternoon sky. Their only way in and out, scheduled to extract them three days later, thirty miles north of their location.
By Ash Gallop4 years ago in Fiction
The Chair
The dry, hot air mixed with the deafening sound of Cicadas, and the rancid smell of rotting beef left out on the counter, filled the little cottage. A soft glow from a single candle danced in the window with the breeze, the breeze that threatened to snuff it out. She stared, unmoving, unblinking, stared out into the darkness. It called to her. She couldn't answer but it called. It called in the night when she wasn't sleeping. It called in the morning, as the sun rose over the distant hills. She could hear it, she was sure.
By Rebekah Stroebe4 years ago in Fiction
The Trickster’s Curse
Lord Montgomery Salvator looked up at the grinning moon as it bounced in the sky. He knew that his wife hated any moon that wasn’t full and knew that her mood would be difficult to deal with because she had seen this. He turned to face his coachman who had been waiting for him to get into the carriage before he cleared his throat. “What time will we arrive at the manor?” The coachman straighten up after being spoken to but did not leave his position by the carriage door. “If we go through the night, we will arrive by mid-morning.” His response was cold but firm. The Lord nodded before clambering in the carriage unsteadily. “That would be fine. I would rather return to a comfortable bed sooner and I’m sure my dearest feels the same.” Montgomery took a seat across from his wife, Eleanor, who appeared to be looking at her fingernails in boredom. It had been a long time since Eleanor had enjoyed the company of her husband and now she wouldn’t even hide it in front of him. She sighed and turned away from her nails and her husband, staring out the window. Montgomery wished he could see into her mind and stared longingly at her whilst the coachman jolted the carriage alive and their journey began.
By Dee Jay Kay4 years ago in Fiction
Rationalizations of Murder
You: The fan in the coffeehouse spins at the pace of a slow jog – slow enough to count the blades, but fast enough that you have to recount a few times before being absolutely sure about the total. Your focus rips from the ceiling as you are suddenly assaulted by a table-side after your friend aggressively throws herself into the stool opposite of you,
By Marlowe Faust 4 years ago in Fiction
