Alder Strauss
Stories (95/0)
The Strangers on Tier Hill
ELEVEN o’ CLOCK We were alone. Just as quickly as our guests had appeared, they vanished. So lost in those eyes we were that it seemed as though we had been staring at a congregation of stars or a closer mass, such as the moon. Was it that we had interpreted our guests’ eyes glow? Was it all in our heads after all? Indeed, it felt real.
By Alder Strauss3 years ago in Horror
A Devil in Mayfair
Twenty minutes later she woke up. Darkness now approached Mayfair. She tried to move, but couldn’t. She was still restrained, now more so than before. When her vision cleared she realized that she was still inside the church. The skeptical townspeople that were once her friends, were now a furious mob of self-righteous monsters, fueled by superstition and fear and bent on shedding heathen blood for their Lord.
By Alder Strauss3 years ago in Horror
On the Shores of Ci
He woke up vomiting salty water on the rocks before him. Long, raspy spasms of breath cleared his lungs of the rest. He was shipwrecked. The man looked back at the rowboat that had brought him to these shores. It was but splinters now, broken and twisted beyond recognition as it now slipped beneath the sea. He lay there alone. The sea, once a raging demon of unfathomable chaos, now appeared as calm and docile as pooled water upon a woodland trail. His crew as well, gone. Himself and a few others had braved the turbulent waters to find aid for their first mate who lay wounded with them. Of the four, he was the only one he could see laying on this shore. Did they drown? Did they swim back to the ship that no doubt was on its way to the bottom of the sea as well? Or perhaps they had sought refuge upon the very rocks that he swore had torn into the boat that had brought him to where he lay. He had to find them. He had to know. But first, he had to get up and find out where he was.
By Alder Strauss3 years ago in Horror
How the Streetlamps Burn
DAY II The morning came in slow and painful. Last night had been worse. I figured I would take the couch I had initially discovered my friend upon. I had put him to bed. Next to him I had placed a porcelain bowl that would catch what food I fed him that he couldn’t keep down. The drops I gave him hadn’t shown real or extraordinary results. However, they really hadn’t had the time. I’d know of their effect by the end of today. I was sure of it.
By Alder Strauss3 years ago in Horror
How the Streetlamps Burn
The morning came too soon. The night left early, but it didn’t take with it the angry beasts that now surged and pounded within my skull. The port had brought them, and inadequate rest had made them at home. As I got up the room momentarily pulsed and spun, reminding me of the consequences of overindulgence. Water and more rest would no doubt cure this and chase those beasts inside my head away. Therefore, I took to the bathroom and drank water straight from the faucet until it seemed as though a gallon were within me. I then retired into bed once more for a rest that would revitalize me to the equivalence of a sober man.
By Alder Strauss3 years ago in Horror
Footsteps
I hear it again. Every night around eleven ‘o clock, I can. It started as a dream, an illusion, and eventually grew into a nightmare. Something I couldn’t fathom then, and still can’t now. Those… noises. Sometimes I think that they were all in my head the whole time. Sometimes I feel they were the creation of an isolated mind.
By Alder Strauss3 years ago in Horror
Drerys' Guest
Drery lowered the lantern to the glass and frame and then began to walk in the direction the old man had pointed. Blood spotted and streaked along the yard, marking a gory trail. The blood was fresh, so fresh they both could smell it and taste it in their lungs with every breath they took. From the initial loss of blood and the degree of injury, it couldn’t have gone far. Therefore, they followed the trail into the low-hanging mist that blanketed the wild grass and, eventually, the orchard. Mr. Drery stooped down, closer to the ground, and tried to get below the mist to keep sight of the trail. At one point they lost it, but the old man’s recollection brought them into the orchard and into a relatively clear patch of land. This is where the trail picked up again. Alongside a nearby tree was an allotted amount of blood. It must have hid out of fright and desperation from the old man’s firing. Tufts of hair also stuck to the skin of the tree, mixed with blood and jagged pieces of tree trunk. Upon closer investigation of this, Drery summoned the old man’s attention to something immensely surreal and frightening. There, just above the mass of blood and hair, was the blood stained impression of a human hand.
By Alder Strauss3 years ago in Horror
Drerys' Guest
THE 3RD MONTH It was now November. The weather was unusually warm on the night the moon took the shape of a sickle. They all sat down for dinner: Mr. Drery, Mrs. Drery, Madeline, Annie, Mr. Cobbs, his fiddle and, of course, ole Chester. The dinner was enjoyed in relative silence. There was an implied duty and a need to be ready. It felt as if their home had become a refuge, fortified with a guard to protect its inhabitants. Even Madeline was more quiet and reserved than usual. Still, in amongst their solemn demeanor was a reassured comfort. Even Mrs. Drery, who forbade the use of firearms in the presence of her and her child, found new respect in its purpose. When the meal was through, all assumed their post-dinner behaviors as they had before. Mrs. Drery sketched and hummed to herself, Madeline played by the fireplace with Annie, and Mr. Drery and Mr. Cobbs smoked pipes while touching upon past nostalgias.
By Alder Strauss3 years ago in Horror
How the Streetlamps Burn
My quarters for the duration of the next few days were barely adequate. A layer of neglect blanketed almost every piece of furniture, causing my nose to protest it in an uproar of sneezing as I brushed off an end table for the sake of relieving myself of burdensome luggage. The walls hosted wallpaper and paintings most likely hung together. They resembled an age uniform with the blanket of dust around them. Their colors had faded long ago and their once vibrant hues now bled together, permitting a hideous display: A portrait of a man, presumably young, now appeared old and decayed. And a ship resting upon pleasant waters, now appeared battered by seething seas and terrifying storms.
By Alder Strauss3 years ago in Horror
How the Streetlamps Burn
In the quiet country village of Anoch there is a superstition of an unusual sort. Its origin is not that of man or beast, but rather it is set in the eerily lit lamps that line the worn cobblestone streets. In Anoch the lamps burn brightly. So brightly in fact, they can be seen night or day. And they burn all hours, too. For no one dares to try to put them out. At least, not yet.
By Alder Strauss3 years ago in Horror