Horror
The Bird House
"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window," Jonathan's voice hissed from the darkness while he told tales of horror passed on from his older brother. Three months ago he told that story, and it still sticks with me today.
By Eloise Robertson 4 years ago in Fiction
The Boathouse
The door banged loudly as Molly threw the door open with all of her might, intensified with her rage. Pauline was her sister, not her mother. She had no right to decide what was best for her and she didn't have any right to throw away all of her clothes and replace them with bright and frilly things. Like this appalling bright yellow dress, she was forced to wear today, yuck!
By Tiggerish Eeyore (Aaron Wood)4 years ago in Fiction
The Darkening
“As humanity rose and fell through the aeons of time, there stood one man who lived through it all. No, allow me to rephrase that, there stood an aspect of death that flowed parallel to humanity watching as we fumbled through life like children. Cheering along with our successes and condemning our failures, he became known as The Observer. There are very few historical records revealing his earlier existence. But what we do know is that he became revered as a living god. An apathetic wanderer worshipped by a select few who listened when he eventually spoke and followed his way of life. The rest of them ignored his warnings, they did not heed the words of this ageless vagabond who had no impact on the world. They paid a heavy price for their ignorance when The Observer stopped watching from the outskirts, ceased in his aimless wandering and cast his shadow across the world bringing a devastating justice with his wrath”. - The Rise & Fall of Greatness: Lecture by Danyal, High Monk of The Segar Monastery
By Daniel Millington4 years ago in Fiction
One, Two, Three
Another morning, another mark scratched into the wall. She didn't know why she still felt this compulsion every day, finding anything with an edge just to make a litany of lines behind the bedpost. So many lines, she'd forgotten the counting words to know how many lines were really there. It had been so long since she'd seen anything other than sterile white walls and a tray of food that appeared through a rusted metal slot three times a day and every waking bought more blank spaces in place of memories from before the white room.
By Kyra Chambers4 years ago in Fiction
Carving Pumpkins
I cut into the pumpkin’s flesh, taking off the top. I scoop out the seeds and guts. This part always creeped me out as a kid. It felt like what I imagined intestines would feel like. My brother would take a bite of the innards, pretending to be a zombie. My mom liked to collect the seeds to make snacks.
By Lauren Triola4 years ago in Fiction
Swamp Girl
The killing was happening again. I knew it was going to happen, but I didn’t think it would start again so soon. Laila was the first to come back. The swamp had finally regurgitated whatever was left of her, and they asked me to identify her. I don’t know how they expected me to give them an answer based off of a pile of mush, but the singular star tattoo with the ugly lotus flower in the middle, was enough for me to know that the pile of bones, and detached yellow skin on the table was indeed Laila Hill. Nobody knew the black, kinky, haired girl with dimples. She didn’t have family, and the only friends she had were her coworkers. She wasn’t at the forefront of anyone’s mind. When her remains resurfaced, the world didn’t stop. Nobody batted an eye. There wasn’t a flicker in the morale of the town. It was news, and all news went away eventually. They had found a new swamp girl.
By Kayla Jefferson4 years ago in Fiction
