Horror

The Labours of Hell
Some days we wake and wish we were dreaming; others we dream of nothing but being awake. Even with our eyes wide open, it is the best most of us can hope for. Yet, few are fortunate to have the blind-fold ripped away. Jeremy didn’t know it, but he was lucky that, on this particular night, he was afflicted by the first condition. His wife was away on business and he found himself tossing and turning in an empty bed, chasing sleep. Unfortunately, dreams can not find those who are already drifting.
By TrivialPunk5 years ago in Fiction
THE RIDE
THE RIDE Tommy grabbed the backpack full of dope and headed out the door. His apartment was on the second floor, so he had to walk along a narrow landing before descending down the stairs. As he made his way across the landing, he noticed his cab had not arrived yet. With a sigh, he slowed his pace. Tonight's driver was running late, and that bugged him. Not that it was unusual for cab drivers to run late in this city. No, cab drivers were no different here than anywhere else. It bugged him because he was something of a frequent flier around here, a member of the Mega Miles Club. And he tipped big, because he always carried around fat stacks of cash. If that didn't make him a goddamned VIP, then what did?
By Jake Lane5 years ago in Fiction
The Foul Smell of Whores
The pores on her skin popped like kernels in a fire. I never once anticipated how loud that sound would be, nor did I think human skin could splatter. It's so bizarre, here we are--poking, prodding, kneading our skin, and yet...under intense flame it's as fluid as water. The pieces flew across the ground and attached to the grass like glue. I wasn't sure if it was her blood, or the evening dew shining against the fire. It was something of a rite of passage burning these whores.
By Cory DeAn Cowley5 years ago in Fiction
The Olive Trees
Kneeling at the edge of morass I am beside the girl, whose eyes loll like beachballs, below the tree with the hanging man. Scattered aground in the muck are the contents of an artist’s portfolio, and atop a mere fraction of letters which aren’t ruined.
By James B. William R. Lawrence5 years ago in Fiction
The Shadow
I could see the Shadow out of the corner of my eye, huddled in the corner of the room. It's always there. Just on the edge of my vision so I never got a good look at it. But it always seemed to take a different shape each time I tried to look at it.
By J.A McAfee5 years ago in Fiction
The Precious
I. When the wave hit it was small and most people thought it was an offshoot of Pandemic 2020 or P2020. It was no longer called Covid or Corona just P2020 because the world had basically stopped in 2020. Plus it sounded hipper.
By Vivian Marie Millan5 years ago in Fiction
The Stuff of Nightmares
She runs down the desolate beach track, breath coming in ragged, searing, wet gasps. Her feet lose the ground beneath them as she slips across the rough, loose stones. Blood seeps into her eyes from the gash across her cheek. Her knees and hands are grazed, burning from where she crashed against the gravel on the uneven ground. She needs to keep pace, to maintain her balance. She dares not fall again, though her limbs are fatigued. Adrenalin is surging and causing them to tremor with an uncontrollable ferociousness. He is right behind her, breathing hot fear into the void. She can’t see him, but he is there. He is always there.
By Sonny Mac5 years ago in Fiction
The Usher's House
“Well, that could have gone better, yeah?” snapped the older woman in front of me, splattered in mud from her mire-caked hair to her filth-encrusted boots.
By Timothy James Turnipseed5 years ago in Fiction
The Blue Moon Rule
Death metal pounded and pulsated from the state of the art speakers that were strategically placed in every corner of every room. Every room, not only the ones where you’d expect to find speakers - the lounge room or the dining room or the bedroom, rooms where one might like to bring some music in to sooth savage beasts or to lull a baby to sleep or to aid digestive juices or to set a romantic mood or to saturate the atmosphere with the sex-charged hypnotic notes of a saxophone. Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing springs to mind.
By Karen Adler5 years ago in Fiction
Deceitful Above All Things
“Mama, tell me about our father,” Emma begged. “Again?” she asked, smiling. Mama pulled Emma into her lap, and held up her heart-shaped locket, opening it to reveal the tiny picture nestled inside. Her voice softened as she settled back to retell the story that had lulled Emma to sleep many a night.
By Maya Ivers5 years ago in Fiction
The Key to My Heart
It all started out under the cover of darkness or so I thought. My eyelids opened to reveal some semblance of light. Blinding - but as my vision began to clear, for moment, I had wished I was blind. This feeling came with realization - I was alone.
By Jeanette Guzman5 years ago in Fiction
The Underground Experiment
Darkness encompassed Wren like a thick weighted blanket. It laid on her chest, squeezed at her arms and legs, and clung to each strand of hair. In truth, it didn’t bother her that much. What was truly unbearable was the silence. The silence was deafening. For a moment she thought herself dead, but she quickly threw away the thought.
By Amanda Flores5 years ago in Fiction