Horror
The Water Hole (A Conclusion)
This was requested by Jason Basaraba , a conclusion to The Water Hole , my entry into the Vocal Foggy Waters Challenge. I really hope this lives up to expectations , but we will see. I have taken a few terms from the Philip Pullman “His Dark Materials” books which will fit in with the general story.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 4 years ago in Fiction
The Wolf of Jade Lake
During the day a lake that I live next to, Jade Lake, is lovely. Quite lovely. So much so that I've used it for some of my pictures for my job. But, at night? This place isn't exactly as nice. Every time I go on my evening run however...I get this weird feeling on my back. Like something or someone is watching me. Sometimes, I swear I hear footsteps. So, I run even faster then when I started. Never looking back once before I get to my front door.
By Raphael Fontenelle4 years ago in Fiction
Staying Alive
Curfew began at eight. Police patrolled the streets and had the power to arrest and even shoot anyone they found outside at night. Nowhere was safe. Misty and Ash wanted date on the beach. The date was originally meant to be a picnic by the beach. Ash decided that was boring and they played truth or dare which ended with skinny dipping amongst other things.
By Chloe Gilholy4 years ago in Fiction
Water's Edge
Cordelia felt like she needed to get to the cabin as quickly as possible. She had just gotten off work and was on her way to her first vacation in what felt like forever. When she finally saw it, her heart leaped, she hadn’t remembered her grandmother’s cabin being so grand. It looked like something out of a calendar. Dark wood logs stacked three stories with a wraparound porch, surrounded by the polychromatic leaves of autumn. Getting away from the coast was exactly what she needed, regardless of what her friends had to say. Living on the beach had not helped her anxiety about water. This place seemed as dry as it could get and that was exactly what she really needed.
By Raine Fielder4 years ago in Fiction
The Wood
The Wood One TODAY WAS A WEIRD DAY. There was a strange tension in the town. Superstition had that affect on the village. People who often sat on their front stoop, watching as other villagers walked by, were inside. They were closing their shutters. There weren’t even clothes hanging out on the line. It was a perfect day for drying clothes outside.
By Nathan Charles4 years ago in Fiction
Justice
HIS NAME WAS JUSTICE — WHAT A FUCKING STUPID NAME. He hated it! What were his parents thinking? Some hippy-dippy liberals high on weed and other drugs at his conception — and his birth, no doubt. Now, they were strict as a military barracks! Don’t wear eyeliner. Boys don’t wear eyeliner. No hanging out with friends on a school night. No eating in bed. Wipe off the toilet seat if you piss on it and for God’s sake put the toilet seat down! And don’t forget your hoodie!
By Nathan Charles4 years ago in Fiction
The Year of the Rat-King
Hàorán was born on the fifteenth day of the seventh month of the year of the golden dragon. Hàorán's mother said that made him special meant he had great things waiting for him. But Hàorán never felt special; he wasn't at the top of his class, far from it. He did not have the good connection with his ancestors that his birth should have guaranteed. Moreover, he wasn't particularly concerned about any of this. He didn't spend his free time trying to work his way up the educational ladder, and he didn't understand why he was supposed to care about his ancestors in the first place; they were of no importance to his life. In fact, it seemed that the only thing Hàorán cared about were the animals. During the free months, when most children his age could be found studying or helping out around the home, Hàorán could be found sheltered away under the crooked old cherry tree in the backyard, poking at the dirt watching the little ants run around and the worms writhe their way from one point to the next. He had fashioned makeshift terrariums and feeders to draw more animals to their backyard. It wasn't until the year of his eighth birthday that this hobby began to worry his mother, and had she maybe been able to see through that thick, glassy haze of motherly love, she may have been able to change the outcome.
By Lily Krause4 years ago in Fiction
That scary night near the river
It was the night of November 30, 1994. It was about 10 pm. The Gomti river was nearby. My girlfriend Pooja Sheshadri’s house in the Gomti River Colony near the river. I said good night to her. She gave me a nice hug and then went inside her house. I smiled as I looked at her. I had to ride my motorcycle to East Charbagh Colony, which was more than 15 km away. My house was there and my parents and younger brother were waiting for me that night.
By Anshuman Kumar4 years ago in Fiction
The Dog Days of Fall
The puppies were whining. Whimpering. The high pitched sounds of babies hungry for milk. They hadn’t even opened their eyes yet, he knew. New births. He could smell them. Could see the burlap bulge and move with their squirming, their tiny bodies weighing next to nothing in the sack he held by the knotted and bunched cloth in his hands.
By Jay Sizemore4 years ago in Fiction
