Horror
The Missing Girl
It was an unusually arctic October night when seven-year-old Jenny Parker fell into the lake. Nobody saw it happen. They didn’t know for several days until the water thawed and the cold-blue body floated to the surface and washed up on the beach. The body was discovered by a jogger out for an early morning run. It was a beautiful morning, they’d said, one of the crisp autumn kind where sunlight shined through warm-colored leaves. If you looked close enough, you could see the leaves’ veins.
By Austin Harvey4 years ago in Fiction
Beneath Still Waters
Laying in the dark, in the freezing cold, and damp grass near the glass like surface of the lake he prayed that the noises he was hearing were just the sound of wild animals. He could hear it growing closer and as he rolled over onto his back and stared up at the stars overhead his mind drifted back to the circumstances that led him to the fate that now seemed inevitable.
By Terrence Moore Books4 years ago in Fiction
Gold Mine
Bradley and Jennifer were taking a road trip over the summer before they went to college in the fall. They were currently making their way through the south. They had passed into New Mexico, via highway 40, a few hours before and were looking for a place to stop. They were hungry, and tired, and stopped at a small roadside diner in the middle of nowhere.
By Colt Henderson4 years ago in Fiction
There's a body in the pond
There’s a body in the pond. A body in the pond. In the pond. In the pond… The mantra beat like a brass drum, reverberating between my ears as a steady pulsating accusation. Of course no one knew that, how could they, how could anyone know? The pond was cloudy with frozen air, crystals blinking in the late afternoon sun. I dragged in a mouthful of air, sliding one foot cautiously out onto the ice. It was the shortest way home, I reminded myself again, sliding a little bit further. Now there’s a body on the pond. A body on the bond. On the pond. On the pond… I frowned. This was no time to be funny brain.
By Kavi Elwyn4 years ago in Fiction
The First of His Army
It is night, and there is a cold chill in the air. A full moon hangs bloated in the sky. The trees creak and groan, unease lingering on their branches as a murder of crows sit above. Their heads turn and swivel, beady eyes searching into the unknown for someone, something, to sate their curiosity. It is met by the sound of footsteps.
By Juliette Bissell4 years ago in Fiction
Under Ice
The pond was frozen. The ice was thick and deep, just right for skating on. Edie recognized this pond. It was the one she used to go skating on every winter as a child in Minnesota. Living in Los Angeles for the last ten years, it had been ages since she'd seen ice like that.
By Gwen Livesay4 years ago in Fiction
The Frozen
She stared out over the pond. Ice-skaters whizzed by her, some waving and smiling, and she returned their greetings. Did they wonder what she was doing here? It didn't matter. She would skate again next winter maybe, but the thought of getting out on that frozen graveyard literally chilled her to the bone.
By Debora Dyess4 years ago in Fiction
