Horror
A perished soul
“How did I end up here?” I kept asking myself the same question. The days had deteriorated into nightmares. Somebody was stalking me from both the outside and the inside. “What was it looking for from me?” I wondered. Was it a case of racial profiling? Maybe it was somebody’s resentment,” I speculated. My life was filled with dread. It seemed like I was slowly being destroyed. I was quietly hurting. My entire body was in excruciating pain. Indeed, I was in the middle of this amazing, unexplainable phenomenon known as “an intangible carnage.” There was a means to avoid the death that only a few people knew about. I wanted to travel and thrive.
By Brandsandu4 years ago in Fiction
A tragic death
My cousin always seemed to have a history of having supernatural encounters. He has been a witness to unusual happenings and incidents because he was only a child. He kept them to himself out of dread and apprehension. His mom and I were the only ones who listened to him. We were both in charge of trying to calm him down, giving strength, and encouraging him to keep going. He hasn’t been able to break free from his inner terror for years because the incidences never ended. I spoke with him today to tell him about a novel I had recently written that was based on his weird experiences. I must admit, mine was a lot gentler than his. He proceeded after listening to my –
By Brandsandu4 years ago in Fiction
The Possessed Manor
I was walking down the street when I came to an old abandoned villa. It was called Sunvilla, although it was far from sunny. It appeared to be haunted. In May, there is a creepy cold environment. In any case, it can’t clarify it. It was said to be possessed, and it certainly appeared to be.
By Brandsandu4 years ago in Fiction
The Anonymous Path
Once upon a time, there was a place that was not beyond the usual, a standard town with residences, businesses, and schools. It was before the internet and smartphones were invented. There were portions of the town that had never been discovered, just as there were in every other town, and there was one trail in specific that had never been travelled. This was due to rumours that people who attempted to travel that way never came back.
By Brandsandu4 years ago in Fiction
The House
This is the story of a family that relocated to Las Vegas with their two girls. After an accident in Miami, one of them became mentally disabled. Liza was the problematic girl, and Mira was her sibling. Both were raised in the state of Miami, but what had happened? The youngest daughter got unstable in Miami, so they went to Las Vegas. Was there something that improved their situation or something else that made it worse?
By Brandsandu4 years ago in Fiction
A horrific Dream
The very last rays of light from the sun gushing through the window frames, a sliver of chilly breeze delicately overtaking the dried leaves on the grassy lawn, as if they had no predefined destination and had accepted their destinies, the squawking of a gobble, now and then, periodically interrupted by the delightful music of a cuckoo, filling the environment with electricity unimaginable, and in such a scenario, I glanced out the window, watching the sun gradually fade over the skyline, just as it has a hundred thousand times previously, and will keep going to do just that, everlastingly eternally, considering how the day is drawing to a close, and welcoming the night sky with a sneaky stare.
By Brandsandu4 years ago in Fiction
The First Time We Met
The woman is younger than me. Much. At least 20 or more years. But her eyes are old. Old, tired and brown. She is dressed like one of those proto-hippie, ren-fest types. Loose clothes, frumpy looking, her nose is pierced. A ring in the right nostril. Her ears are also pierced multiple times – in fact, a lot. Her hair is straight, straight and brown. She is not pretty. Nor is she ugly, just…plain. She smells. A bitter spicy smell, mixed with human stink. I do not like it. She is a witch. I do not know HOW I know this, but I do know it, it is almost like I feel it at an instinctual level. Not in the hipster Wicca sense, I mean the real McCoy. I also know that she is scared…no, not scared. Terrified. I do not know HOW I know this, but I do know it. Maybe that is what I smell on her? The stink of fear?
By Michael Mayr4 years ago in Fiction
Night of the Living Hunger!
The unmistakable sound of metal scraping against metal shrieks across the room. The man holding the knife and sharpener fixes me with a twisted grin, as though he gets some sort of sadistic pleasure from what is about to transpire. Behind him, the sickeningly wet crunch of flesh being separated from bone by a dull but heavy blade echoes off of the metallic and tiled walls, each weighty boom and thud further sealing my fate.
By Joshua Smith4 years ago in Fiction
Requiem for an Unloved Hero
Requiem for an Unloved Hero: No one knew from where the Dark Man came…or for that matter, from when the Dark Man came. A forsaken corner of space and time? Some outre dimension of woe, despair and fear? Was he even from this universe? It was doubtful that even he knew from whence he originated. But did it matter? Certainly not to him…he always was and he always would be.
By Michael Mayr4 years ago in Fiction
