Justin von Bosau
Achievements (1)
Stories (16/0)
Eisoptrophobia
"The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own." I said it quietly, almost nonchalantly. It was a sentence and a sentiment that sounded insane; I was guessing Killaine had heard plenty of those. He was a psychiatrist after all, and the grey in his hair told me how many decades he'd been at it.
By Justin von Bosauabout a year ago in Horror
Bound and born by Flame
Dragons, the small boy vaguely thought, do not exist. That's what Papa says. The day had been bright, but the sun had gone away to hide. The boy didn't know why: he had been looking up for a while, wide eyes staring at branches leaning in and taking away all the light. Sometimes, a thing his papa called a "deer" would wander by his vision, sniffing at him, tickling him. The boy would giggle, but giggled softly, because Papa was asleep next to him, and he knew better than to wake Papa when Papa was sleeping.
By Justin von Bosauabout a year ago in Fiction
The Book Report: Atlas Shrugged
In 1957, Russian-American author Ayn Rand published her most ambitious work, now regarded as the work she is most known for: “Atlas Shrugged”, a monolith of 1,100 pages of paper and 645,000 words. To put that count into perspective, “It” by Stephen King (another beast of lumbering length) is only 441,156 words. A novel is considered any piece of writing between 90,000 to 120,000 words; anything beyond that is an “epic”.
By Justin von Bosau2 years ago in Geeks
- Runner-Up in Campfire Ghost Story Challenge
Apron's FollyRunner-Up in Campfire Ghost Story Challenge
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It was an early summer night, rich with the smells of wild honeysuckle and apples fallen off their trees. The cicadas whirled their music through Grover's Field, and under the starlight, the six of us had wandered into nature to get drunk and sweaty and carefree. But then, after the first libations were poured, Mac looked over towards the shell of Apron's Folly, and exclaimed, waking us up from our revels.
By Justin von Bosau2 years ago in Horror
The Peculiar Visitor of the Night Watchman
If we're being completely honest, then Charlie Tibbs was not the best candidate to become the night watchman for the Museum of Classical Art. It wasn't that Mr. Tibbs was at all bad at his job: he was thrilled by it, and had been for the past fifty-three years, ever since he'd left the farm with its large barn and mooing occupants for the big city. He took every nightly tour with a methodical nature honed by time, and punctuated by an appreciation of the same paintings and statues he'd admired every night before this one. He was always cordial, always on time, never slept through the wee hours of the morning, never took his lunch break somewhere he wasn't supposed to--in short, he was perfect in all but one aspect.
By Justin von Bosau2 years ago in Fiction
When Hanson Returned
The old woman barely put up a fight when I killed her. My name isn't important. I don't tell it to anyone, and I don't remember it myself most days. If you want my skills, you either know where to find me, or you don't want them bad enough. I'm paid my commission, I do my work, and that's the end of it. No repeat customers, no chit-chat, no "could you do this as well?" One person dead, any item of theirs procured from wherever they died. I don't go the extra mile to rob somewhere else after the body's gone cold.
By Justin von Bosau2 years ago in Horror
A Little Life, After Death
Anne Baker found the day that she died to be rather boring, actually. It was in the middle of May: she was out in the garden, watering flowers where they bloomed on plump bushes, and had, by way of the heat and a too-tight corset, dropped of exhaustion and hit her head against the raised stones that made a perimeter around the dirt. She died without knowing any pain, and after a few minutes got back up, brushed herself off, and saw herself lying there dead.
By Justin von Bosau2 years ago in Fiction
- Top Story - November 2021
TorsoTop Story - November 2021
The day had actually been a very nice one until we found the body. The sun had been shining; perfect day for fishing, Edison had commented, and Harker had joked that it was still up for debate--Edison might scare them away with his balding mug peeking over the edge of the boat. Edison had made a sour face, but finally acquiesced, laughing with us as we three headed down to the lakeside.
By Justin von Bosau2 years ago in Horror