Horror
The Darkness In The Water
My aunt had been missing for five months now. It was 1882, a proper lady was never without an escort. My aunt certainly was what one considered a proper lady, a perfect example of propriety. Henrietta knew etiquette forward, backward, and upside down. Her existence was governed by these laws of society. How was it that she had disappeared without a trace nearly half a year ago?
By Pamela Johnson4 years ago in Fiction
The Hannibal Cafe
The Hannibal Cafe A Couple was arguing and they were out of town. They were running out of gas and were stuck at the light by an old abandoned dock. They looked and then saw the lights lit up. They thought it said Able Café and it was reputable, but something strange had happened and the sign changed to The Hannibal Café when they entered it. The Owner of the Café was a fan of The Nightmare Café show, but the Owner was always a mystic or a Shaman so to speak. He created the reality of a situation based on drinking coffee and eating sandwiches. The Owner knew how to create situations with his food. However, The Owner created an old style Café. Something from the 1950s. It had Elvis Presley artwork, and it had early Johnny Cash songs played in the Café. It Had an old school clock on the wall. And 50’s music played in the Café.
By Joe Evaldi4 years ago in Fiction
Bury a Friend
Tom was dead. It had been an accident, the sort of accident that occurs after a man drunkenly makes a move on his friend for the umpteenth time and happens to be standing too close to the top of the stairs. Now he was lying in Paula’s backyard while Nancy tried to find a shovel.
By Lauren Triola4 years ago in Fiction
Deep Lake
Nestled deep in the foothills of the Cascades, back on what once was Muckleshoot Indian territory, there lies a modest lake that had been made one of the State Parks. This place was our childhood gem hidden amongst the trees tucked between the valleys and the hills, surrounded by the lichen laden Ponderosa Pines & rich green vegetation from the ever-persistent regional rainfall. There was a little dirt & mud running path through the woods along the edges of the water. You wouldn’t know where to find this place unless you were specifically looking for it, especially back then before GPS, but locals knew it well and it was where we spent our summer days catching mud guppies, skipping rocks, hoarding fresh huckleberries off the bushes and flopping around like fish in the freshly melted glacial waters.
By Celeste Barbier4 years ago in Fiction
Ghost of the Ocean
The sound of waves crashing roughly against the shore echoes in my ears as I walk barefoot along the cold and soothing sand. I can barely see the whites of the waves as they rise out of the ocean to steal from the shore, in return leaving clear jelly fish, ranging from sizes as big as your skull to the size of your palm, beached on the sand. Seashells are exchanged over and over again, the sea and the shore battling for more with each wave.
By Alexandra H Gulcan4 years ago in Fiction
Asphyxiation
Harris had moved his wife from their quiet, rural town in Nebraska to Colorado in an attempt to escape the overhanging grief from the loss of their two children. But he had not expected the move to worsen his wife’s heartache. The memory of their children had haunted their lives in Nebraska, and Harris had worked hard to find a new home in Colorado that provided a fresh start. He had chosen a house that shared little resemblance to their previous one for this purpose. The house was sandwiched between two others in a newly developed suburban neighborhood – its grey and white exterior camouflaging it amongst the other homes set against the Rocky Mountains. Their new life projected the affluent and ideal Western life so many transplants came to Colorado seeking – on the outside – but within, Harris was fighting a battle of his own.
By Ashley Nestler, MSW4 years ago in Fiction
Bloodlust at Camp Carpenter
While the screen is still dark, the rattling, repetitious sound of an old-timey projector plays in the dark. Of course it is an affectation. The film is being played from a digital projector, and the retro sound-effect is playing through the speaker system. Light pops across the screen, jittering up and down. Five words coagulate out of those bursts of light:
By Littlewit Philips4 years ago in Fiction
The Loneliest Man on Earth
The first time he saw her she was floating next to the boat like a dead body. Then something splashed in the darkness and glittering ripples radiated out across a moonlit ocean. He could see through the surface of the water the mysterious silhouette was actually the stark figure of a thin woman. Her arms moved silently in front of her in wide strokes one at a time. With each extension she glided closer to him. Where her legs should have kicked behind her he saw the thing he dreaded. A fat shape that pulsated behind her like it had a mind of its own. A tail. Like a fish. She was not dead at all. She was alive and she was swimming quietly through the darkness towards him. He watched, his heart beating, as she began to slink slowly, smoothly all the way around his small boat. Percy suddenly found himself fumbling nervously through the twilight, his finger on the trigger of his gun still in the holster at his hip. He tried not to make eye contact with it, but he couldn’t look away. Her slinking black shape, like a shadow in the water. A thin layer of fresh fog rolled in and through it he could see the thing’s eyes twinkling up at him with a soft blue spark. Like light catching sharp edges of finely cut crystal, the cool azure pierced the mist for an instant then quickly disappeared back into the dark water. Percy searched the smooth surface tensely. He stood anxiously, coughing into the static air. For a while he saw nothing. Everything around him seemed to stand guard silently with him. He heard nothing. The ocean was serene and smooth like luminous glass. He finally inhaled. Maybe he’d imagined her. Then, another soft splash and this time he caught her leering. Wide obsidian pupils set in thick, white eyeballs that ate him up, as her face furled past the small boat. She rolled in the water, her whole body floating upwards towards him. Billowing clouds suddenly parted overhead and Percy could see out over the entire ocean. The moon shifted shapes on the surface and his shadow transformed with the water. He squinted, struggling to see what was real through the fine, glimmering ripples. Her pale face rose up again. Then her silhouette released into a long black curve. She paused and then slunk quietly around the boat, her eyes flashing. They were crisp, ghostly marbles floating in the middle of the deep sea. Her body sauntered behind them like a snake, circling him.
By Mary Jackson4 years ago in Fiction
Muddy Mystery
I could feel him drag my limp body across the ground as I tried acting like I was still asleep. The road rash stung as I struggled keeping my composure. There was nothing that I could do but keep pretending I was unconscious so that I could make an escape. Where I planned on going was not something that I had quite figured out yet. How I was going to get away is something that wasn't quite figured out either.
By Ruby Estelle 4 years ago in Fiction
