Horror
There's something under the boat
Friday 5th March 1993 22:30 I don't know why I agreed to this. I like camping as much as anyone, but my birthday is basically in the winter and I'm freezing. It was snowing last week for god's sake! And now here I am, wearing three jumpers and my waterproofs, freezing my tits off. I should have said no and told my friends to save the partying for next year. Eighteen is an age actually worth celebrating.
By Courtney Harris4 years ago in Fiction
Apex Predator
Streams of perspiration flowed down Cassian’s brow like the rapids of Chilko River in British Columbia, where he had successfully tracked and killed his first wolf with his father at the age of seven. The taste of salt filled his mouth as pools of sweat collected underneath his vest.
By Joey Schiavo4 years ago in Fiction
Mortimer
The water was known to have taken the lives of men; curiously, no woman could be counted amongst the casualties of Rhodes Lake, now so named. That is, no woman could be counted among the casualties until now and this one was wretched. It was a different sort of death, one which was believed to have prolonged her agony ungraciously long and no one knew why. Impossible, though it would seem, to survive that long, she had. It was believed that she was out floating in the vastness of the lake for ten days before she was found. When she was, she was butchered. Multiple stab wounds covered her body. Many of them were to vital organs. It was a miracle to have survived that long, if one had the heart to put it that way. The wounds came from within, beginning in the stomach and making their way to the uterus. From there they exited out through the rest of the body. In the end Stacey died on the lakeshore, gasping for an air that could never fill the walls of her lungs.
By Danny Arellano4 years ago in Fiction
The Anniversary
There’s no way to prepare yourself for the loss of a child. There’s no way to fully grasp the concept that the tiny little life you made from scratch, no longer exists. There’s no way to completely accept it. There’s no way to explain it. The emptiness. The guilt. The heartbreak of losing an entire lifetime of joy and memories never to be had.
By Chelsea Adler4 years ago in Fiction
Siren In The Swamp
Sawyer County, Wisconsin October, 1889 Isaac said the fog was a good thing. According to him, Omaha’s legend told of fog being one of the protections of the silver mine. Isaac had been chasing this treasure for six years and knew all there was to know about it. He said there were other natural warnings, clues rather, telling us we were on the right path: pallid mushrooms, dead trees, the fog-I did not like it. The stuff seemed to come out of nowhere when we crested the last hill. We had stalked in the woods for an hour and that was after hiding near the washout to make sure no one saw us leave. Sundays in the logging camp ain't nothing to waste, we don’t need anything else hampering our treasure hunt.
By Jordan J Hall4 years ago in Fiction
Killing Butterflies
I have an odd relationship with death. When I lose a family member, or if a friend passes away, I do not automatically feel sadness, like most. Perhaps that has something to do with my beliefs. I believe when someone dies, there is always talk of a light at the end of the tunnel. What if that light is the hospital room where that person is being reborn into their new body, all their old memories wiped.
By Myrna Collins4 years ago in Fiction
Drain
I looked online for what might be a new meal I could cook. I never took cooking that seriously, but today I had an urge to try something unique. I found something called ‘Marry Me Chicken’. It mostly needed garlic powder, parmesan, and dried tomatoes. I liked it especially since on the list of ‘Romantic Foods’ it was the only dish that didn’t require an oven, which our apartment didn’t have
By Jack Webster4 years ago in Fiction
