Horror

Heya Halai
“Heya Halai!” “Brother welcome!” A group of long haired Americans in various beige linens stood in a circle, around a fire. Someone had, and was playing, a drum. They moved towards each other, and stepped back, their arms and upper bodies billowing with the movement. The group expanded and contracted like they were breathing, like they were one thing.
By J.T. Kelleher4 years ago in Fiction
The Psych Intern
The psych intern is a mouse with silver blonde hair and large eyes obscured by glasses. She shakes constantly. She shakes during morning report, shakes over the keys of her computer, shakes as she brings her Styrofoam cup to her pencil thin lips. Her voice trembles, sputtering over her ink smudged notes. She isn’t unkind—not that any of us have interacted with her enough to determine her kindness. I don’t know what it is that bothers me so much about her. It must be the shaking.
By Claudia Neaves4 years ago in Fiction
Beware the Trees, They Move!
Looking back, it feels odd that such a terrible event happened on such a beautiful day. The sun was shining brightly across a brilliant blue sky. There wasn’t a cloud to be found. The pool water was so clear and clean, it was practically begging you for a refreshing swim. It was high contrast to the murky green pond, a mere fifty yards away. It was early in the day, around 9:30. The heat was just starting to crank up, and the ground was still soggy from the sprinklers predawn rinse.
By Patricia Corn4 years ago in Fiction
Bob’s Bungalow
Bob A pungent smell of lemon mixed with herbs, shallow frequent breaths and awkward whistles of I’ve just seen a face — one of the fastest songs by the beetles. Those are the three main hints of his approach. He walks with such heavy strides, shifting his weight awkwardly between one foot to the other. But even at that, his presence still creeps up on me, like a blood-curling ghost with sharp fangs.
By Damilola4 years ago in Fiction
The Apparition
Petey Paul Puckett the triple P pugilist slouched along, hands in front pockets, whistling and kicking at stones as he went.
By Gregg Newby4 years ago in Fiction
Nightmares After Sunrise
Clary wasn’t supposed to be here. It was too dark, too early, too far from home. The little girl edged gingerly along in the darkness, guided only by the dim glow of the crescent moon above. Underfoot, the grass was damp, and around her, shadowy trees loomed. The girl hadn’t brought a torch with her; she hadn’t wanted her parents to wake up and notice the unnatural beam of light through their bedroom window. She regretted that decision now. Her over-imaginative mind, left unstimulated by the blackness of night, began moulding strange shapes from the trees surrounding her.
By Ayla Meg 4 years ago in Fiction
Premeditated
There was a knock at the door, Ruth stood from her rocking chair and answered it. She felt a pit in her stomach knowing it was her husband, Robby, though her facial expression remained dormant. She opened the door to see him holding a bouquet of wildflowers.
By Anon4 years ago in Fiction
The Root of Evil
Ruth breathed in the fresh countryside air, her lungs rejuvenated by the untainted atmosphere. It was almost enough for her to forget the past. Almost.
By Zak Kiesel4 years ago in Fiction
The Drones of Ear Drums
His instructor back at Fort Meade had encouraged Colonel Jacob Moss, U.S.A., Retired to compress his memories of things learned. To leave out excruciating details of his new life as his mother laid dying in the master bedroom of his homestead in Missouri. After all, time is relative and so is just the memory of that time. It was like the Yiddish language course he took at night school to get his BA degree (Georgetown University, class of O’ 81, a retro whoopie for him!) and currently for American Sign Language online to enable him to talk to the Poole family. He must not only work neatly but think neatly. For now, he must compartmentalize and compress his knowledge of Yiddish to make room for A.S.L.
By Patrick T. Kilgallon4 years ago in Fiction
Forbidden Fruit
“Never eat the fruit that this tree bears! Not if I tell you, not if a friend dares.” Uncle Will began ominously after adjusting his seat near the fireplace. Willam Rhodenson was the twins, Justice and Juniper’s, favorite uncle. He was a self proclaimed adventurer who sampled every culture and any religion. Although they loved him very much, they were surprised that their parents let him chaperone their makeshift camp sleepover. Uncle Will was believed to be crazy and after he almost drove his car into the nearest lake looking for Atlantis, the twins' father had him committed. Tonight he seemed so different and rid of all those burdens he used to carry. Even though it was a welcome change, Justice thought it was from therapy and Juniper thought it was medication.
By Josaline Radley4 years ago in Fiction
The Coffee Opinion
By Thomas G Robinson When I stepped out of the tent, a supposed five-person tent that I remember getting online at Amazon, yeah, it was right after I got my second shot of the Pfizer vaccine. Not that that matters, because my only worry right now is if all the coffee is gone. I needed to get up and start this day. Still, it was kind of a shock to feel the cold of the forest grounds. Little rocks, sticks, blades of grass and weeds that were poking and tickling my feet were a cold awakening to the early morning sun blinding my vision briefly.
By Thomas G Robinson4 years ago in Fiction
Done and Dusted: The Slender Man Final
The Adventures of Millie and Sandra is a series of urban, paranormal, crime fiction/fantasy stories for girls between 9 and 14. At the bottom of this story, seventh in the series that will become books, I will provide the links to the previous stories in order, from number one.
By Karen Eastland 4 years ago in Fiction