Psychological
The Trophy Cabinet. Content Warning.
When she found his trophy cabinet, the horror of her discovery put her in a place where she had no point of reference; a chasm where she was falling, helpless and without recourse. Her revulsion urged her to act but she was scared: how do you confront someone who you know to be a killer?
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Fiction
Arlan Book. Top Story - August 2024.
Arlan Book swung his double-sided ax as hard as his body would allow. The serrated edge cut and sliced through flesh and bone with tremendous ease. The cries of his enemies fleeted with the passing gales, filling his nostrils with the warring scents of fire and blood. They were aromas which ominously aroused him, consuming his pulsing veins with hot surges of adrenaline.
By Kale Sinclairabout a year ago in Fiction
I-Hero. Content Warning.
He was the first. And the worst. Killing was not something I was taught. But his insidious manipulations triggered something in everyone he targeted. When I first came upon him, I had no idea what his actions meant. But as I studied him, learnt, realization dawned; he was what Humans called ‘evil’.
By Rajkumarie Deviabout a year ago in Fiction
Doctor Dream
Hello. Some know me as Dr. Seth Rhys, archaeologist. I thought that’s all I would ever be. It was all I had hoped for. I was doing what I love, working with the love of my life, and spending every day with friends. That was, until two years ago when it came to me. The best and worst thing to happen to my life: The Amulet.
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Fiction
Sweet Justice. Content Warning.
Swan River, at the chocolate factory with my family. Palms sweaty. I don’t like family outings. My knees buckling as I watch my father in line, ordering more and more. Two boys. They’re behind me. They poke. Come this way nerd. I… follow. Eyes darting. Where are they taking me? Bam. My heels in the air as I plunge deep. It’s warm. Sticky. I begin to drown. Chocolate? Gasping I come to. My father giving me CPR. Chocolate mixed with blood hurdling out my lungs. I’m home now. 3am. I feel so nauseous. Furious. I vomit. The sugar rush makes me dizzy. Delirious I stumble into the hallway. Stumbling I smash my mirror. Why me! I wasn’t bothering them! Pixelating vision I feel my body heating up. Maybe the nausea. Maybe… Blackout. I lie in bed watching the news. Teenagers have been hung. How horrible. 2 boys aged 15 brutally beaten, hung like pinatas. Their feet surrounded by candy wrappers. Can’t trust anyone. Tuesday 6am. I’ve been vomiting for 7 days. The news hits. Bloodied images flood my screen. More teenagers. Eshays. Hung up with wrappers at their feet. What a sicko. One photo steals the spotlight. The guy. They got a photo of him… or it? He’s hideous. Slimy, piercing eyes… dirty? He’s covered in …mud? Yet… he’s huge. Like a yeti. Wrappers all over. More video footage. The creature lifting boys above his head like stuffed toys. Snap. Their necks gone like chicken bones. All the victims. Teenage boys? I better stay home. My stomach nauseous. I better sleep. Rolling over I hear a crunch. My pocket? I pull it out and... gasp. A candy wrapper? My head spinning out of control. I haven’t left the house all week? My stomach cries. Head foggy…wait, did I...? Blackout.
By Anna Harrisonabout a year ago in Fiction
