Horror
The Seaweed Monsters
Animosh had plans to go swimming one day and it always took some doing as Animosh did not like seaweed. What ever did he have to be afraid of he thought. It just gives me the creeps he told his mother. "Oh, you will be fine," said his mother. "Go swimming now and don't you be lazy Animosh!" As he got closer to the lake he felt a bit anxious. It wouldn't be a problem on this sandy beach. The beach was called Sandy Beach after all.
By Denise E Lindquist4 years ago in Fiction
Magdalena
For as long as I can remember, I've been drawn to the water. I couldn't explain why it was so appealing. Perhaps it was the fact that I wasn't allowed to go near it. Maybe there was an allure in the forbidden. As a small child I thought perhaps it was because my parents couldn't swim. Maybe they were worried I'd get too deep and drown, and they wouldn't be able to save me. However, as I got older I started to realize that no one in my small village went near the water. No one went to the ocean, no one went to the beach. As I started going to school I had even more people warning me away from the water. Teachers told us not to even step foot on the beach. Most people listened to the warnings and didn't question it, but I needed to know why. I couldn't understand it. I'd sit on the hill overlooking the beach, and I would read or draw while I watched the waves crash. Then I'd go home and ask my parents why I couldn't go on the beach. They'd say there were too many rip tides and I'd be snatched out to sea, unable to ever come back. That didn't make sense though, so I'd go to school and question the teachers. Then I'd get in trouble for not "falling in line like everyone else." I'd ask neighbors on the street, and they'd say it was because of an oil spill from long ago that never got cleaned up. I'd ask the grocer and the baker, and they'd say it was from some big company dumping toxic waste and killing everything; poisoning the water. That was why there was never any fish, and the next town over was so far away that it wasn't worth travelling to get any.
By Lila Renee 4 years ago in Fiction
You Are What You Eat
It's Halloween night. Darleen was sitting moodily on the couch. Mascara smeared down her cheeks, a glass of red wine in one hand, a gigantic bag of candy from the nearest big box store in her lap. Surrounded by candy wrappers. Some cheesy black and white Halloween movie on TV, with the sound low. Kids have been ringing the doorbell all night but she has been ignoring them all night. She wasn't in the mood to deal with some other people's children, and besides, she just had a horrible break-up with her husband of 14 years. She deserves a night of self pity. That chocolate is hers. She got so sick of hearing the knocking and the ringing, she got up and turned all the lights off in the house and dragged all the decorations in off the front porch.
By Blair Hamilton4 years ago in Fiction
The Slayji
THE DIVE BAR WAS DARK AND FULL OF ENERGETIC PEOPLE. The man sat with his funny hat in the back corner, the table furthest from everyone else. The hat was wide-brimmed and came to a point at the end of its floppy cone on top. It was properly called an alicorn. And it properly did not make him inconspicuous, <Stupid hat!> People were looking, staring, but they all seemed to keep their distance. He knew they were whispering about him. They always did, no matter where he went. Slayji couldn’t go anywhere without being watched, both in wonderment and in weariness. They were employed to hunt the monsters — though it was hard to get them to believe they weren’t also monsters.
By Nathan Charles4 years ago in Fiction
The Witch of Suicide Lake.
What is that moving in the shallows over there? It is a long, black, smooth, silhouette gliding towards my one man, wooden, blue canoe. It is getting larger and larger the body size is getting larger than my canoe, the waves trailing behind the small hump of black mass bobbing in and out of the water as it glides slowly meticulously towards my canoe, are small in comparison to the creature I am watching come ever closer. I grab for my paddle, it isn’t much, just a few feet long, but it is my only means of defense if that thing keeps coming towards me in the direction it is. It is only a few feet away and I can see nothing on the left of my canoe but the big black mass in the water unlike on the other side where I can see the rocks and shells on the bottom. The waves are getting bigger and bigger now, tossing me from side to side in my canoe, with one hand I hold the paddle tight to my chest and the other I hold the side of the canoe trying to steady myself. The last thing I want to do is fall in the water with this thing. Sweat is pooling in my shorts where I am sitting or is that water splashing in from the lake from the waves, I am not sure they are mixing together now, I can feel sweat beading on my forehead, my heart is pounding so hard in my chest, I can’t take my eyes from the thing headed my way. The sky is getting darker over head like a warning of something bad or of rain.
By Sara Taylor4 years ago in Fiction
No Warranty
In her Latina accent, la enfermera tells me, “This is your fault! Not mine. It's your mistake.” She goes on about how incompetent I am for not including the sales tax in her estimated total. I can't remember the last time I had to grind my teeth so hard.
By Gregory Valdez4 years ago in Fiction
