Horror
The pond
She lay in bed hand on her forehead. She was so tired she had not even changed for bed. Her hand was hot. She had tied up her shirt to cool down. The air was on, and no it was not summer. It was fall she should have been dressed in a sweater and socks, not dressed down. She lay back on her pillow, and relaxed. Despite her body's warmth, she was not nervous.
By Antoinette L Brey4 years ago in Fiction
Gargantuan
The water was fine before she took a step in. It started to swirl up inside her dress. She could feel the cold and cool sway bring her in farther away from the shore line. It took her farther than she wanted to venture. Away from all the stress of the day. And toward something that she thought was real but wasn't anywhere near the truth.
By Alex Jennett4 years ago in Fiction
Weeds
The nature of the desperation is crucial. It must be wrenching. Intense. All-consuming. Real. The last ditch must have already been dug, the last resort already tried, the last chance already granted and lost. The problem must be intractable. There must be an element of madness, and preferably, a distaste for introspection on the part of the summoner.
By Charles Wolfegang Tuomi4 years ago in Fiction
6 Spooky Halloween Stories That Will Keep You Up at Night!
Declaimer: The only reason I'm writing about scary stories? Due to it being October, and I love this month since Halloween is towards the end and I love watching and reading scary stories or watch horror movies.
By Mrs. Martin4 years ago in Fiction
A Siren's Call
I've always had a connection to the water, so to speak. As soon as I was 6 years old, I was swimming in open water, at 8 I was diving, and by 10 I was able to hold my breath for 3 minutes. Once I reached high school, I did what any kid with a love of water did..joined the swim team.
By Aiero Hanson4 years ago in Fiction
The end of the world?
In mid-March on a Monday, it was a beautiful family. Nathan (15), Naomi (10) and Nova (6) was on punishment and couldn’t be on no internet while their parents worked from home. In a quarantine where it was a virus going on, their parents didn’t want then to read up on the coronavirus. Nor wanted them outside, so all they had was books and nothing but each other to count on. Later, that night a big siren and they all woke up, they made sure they locked everything. They had no idea what was happening, they have no phones or anything, so their parents turned on the tv in their room and it was all black and it had words like “DON’T GO OUTSIDE, ITS AN OUTBREAK GOING ON, DON’T GO OUTSIDE ITS AN OUUTBREAK I REEEEEEPPEEAAAATT………….” They were all scared they took anything they could find, flashlights, lighters, blankets, clothes, food, anything. While gathering all the stuff they pick Novas room to settle down away from windows. “Mom I’m scared are we going to be able to be outside ever, “Nova says, “I don’t know” as the mother says that it is a knock on the door, and loud one. They look out the peep hole in the door and it is a woman outside with goo on her face, bright green and blueish. The mother looks back at the father and says what is going on, but the father does not know himself, looking concerned she sends her kids to the room and says don’t go nowhere. So, all three of them went to the room and was looking all sad. It was the vaccine for the covid, or they mixed something, they all thought. While Nova was sleep, everyone was up, people kept knocking asking to help them, or let them in, they are hungry, but they all had that greenish blue goo on them. It was normally on their face or on their arms or anything not covered.
By Deshawna Hursey4 years ago in Fiction
A WATERY SOLUTION
She could still see the outline of the corpse through the glass door. But it didn’t look now like it had looked earlier. She didn’t know what to make of it. In the past, she had had problems. As a child they had put it down to a ‘vivid imagination’ and it was certainly true that she had ‘interacted’ with her ‘visions’ rather than ‘feared’ them. Like a lot of children, she had ‘imaginary friends’, but her ‘imaginary friends’ persisted well into adulthood, and the antics of those ‘friends’ were also experienced by her mother and sometimes other visitors. Visitors who were, naturally, alarmed by them. The professionals who were brought into the ‘case’ by the school – and even reluctantly by her mother when things got bizarre – tended to write it up as ‘mischief’ and ‘attention seeking’ since they had no more rational explanation.
By Elle Fran Williams4 years ago in Fiction
Asylum
I look out at the stunning clear water of the lake. In the moonlight the lake looks like a painting of the sky above, it’s breathtaking. I’m standing at the edge of the old dock of my family country home. My little sister died in this lake when I was twelve, we haven’t been back since. I look around confused as to how I got here or what I’m doing here. I sit at the edge of the dock, as I dip my toes in the water and watch as the water ripples once my toes break the surface. I sit and watch the moon happily, that’s when I started to hear the voice. Its low and raspy, every word it says drips with venom.
By MissyMarie 4 years ago in Fiction
Camp Nehiyawak (neh-HEE-oh-wuk)
I had spent three summers of my youth there. Come along, I want to show you. Let your mind's eye seek, a grand brick and mortar estate nestled in the open hands of a sprawling valley, lavish in rich vegetation. Brimming with the most beautiful and verdant foliage you’ve ever seen, the ground scored with gravel pathways and raised wooden boardwalks. At the basin of this valley sits a lake, one that remains forever still, as such deserving of its name, Echo Lake. Its shade muddied from the umber-colored earth that it rests upon. The area encompasses close to three square kilometers. Land that once belonged to the Plains Cree, a disillusioned olive branch was offered in the form of the camp namesake, but it is forever entrenched in a history that was. No balance or equal, leaving only people with power and the powerless. Muddied as the water the land is forced to lay upon. However, the story I’m about to tell does not fully encompass the heritage that has been thrusted upon this great valley. The main institution within the estate was opened for use in 1917 as a sanatorium for Tuberculosis patients. The other small detached houses scattered on the property were developed as needed when it would much later turn into a summer camp. Location of the camp to my proximity was far and I was lucky to fly to and from camp each year. You must then have to take a bus to get on or off of the compound. My first summer I endured two weeks, most of it in which I spent sulking. I was only twelve and had never been away from home for more than a weekend. The second summer was three weeks and my third and final summer was six weeks.
By Adair Sigurdson4 years ago in Fiction
