K.H. Obergfoll
Bio
Writing my escape, my future…if you like what you read—leave a comment, an encouraging tip, or a heart—I’m always looking to improve, let me know if there is anything I can do better.
& above all—thank you for your time
Stories (89/0)
HOUSE OF HORRORS
There were always stories, you know them. We all grew up on them; some of us even watched them play out on late night television shows—the dead, the missing, and the forgotten. But this story—this story is much, much different, much darker, much more forgotten.
By K.H. Obergfollabout a year ago in Fiction
THE DRAGON KEEPERS SECRET
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley, that much was known. Today Nesrah joined her sisters Iolanthe and Aislinne as they stood at the edge of the cliff overlooking the ravaged mountainside watching the fog slowly creep in from the rolling seas nearby, dusting the tops of dewy pine trees before settling into the branches to wait out the storm.
By K.H. Obergfollabout a year ago in Fiction
The Curse of the Bragashrin
Her eyes burned as she felt herself floating up to the top of the water’s surface. Waves bobbed lightly against the edge of her face as she floated unforgivingly close to the burning ship she had just been standing in moments before. The water and air were calm around her, there were no screams or cries to be heard, no noise save for the pounding of her own heart beating profusely in her ears. Kallie Calypso had just been saved but how and from what? The last thing she remembered was being pulled from the ship as she sank mercilessly alongside it to the bottom of the blackened waters below. She watched bubbles of air escape the clutches of her lips, drifting aimlessly towards the quiet waters above—just out of reach, lucky to be free from the paralyzing clutches of whatever held her captive.
By K.H. Obergfoll2 years ago in Fiction
The Wills and Ways of Willowshire Lane
The farm house on Willowshire Lane had been in the Hollowell family for years. Some might say it sank its clutches into poor Buddy Hollowell but to those who knew him, it was the other way around—well, that is, until she came along. It was the prior winter when he met Meredith Lawson, a young twenty-two year old fresh out of college who had applied at the firm of Hollowell and Sykes. It wasn’t long before the now aging Buddy Hollowell had taken her under his wing. He was well on his way to a third “retirement” in the legal field and was looking forward to it—which was his mindset until Ms. Lawson came to the firm. Meredith Lawson was an eager woman—spritely, precocious and full of questions and Buddy soon realized she was overqualified for her job as his personal assistant and decided to allow her to take part in his investigations.
By K.H. Obergfoll2 years ago in Fiction
Old Man Morton
Hay lined the dusty floor as Tempest McCallum made her way up to the loft of the old Newhouse Barn, careful not to be noticed by anyone else. The structure was the only inhabitable place left on the sprawling fifty acre estate. A few hundred yards away, the Newhouse’s once towering home lie boarded up in shambles, falling apart from the inside out.
By K.H. Obergfoll2 years ago in Fiction
As the World fell
We were all told this would happen eventually—the world was bound to come crashing down but we hadn’t expected it this soon. You see, it had been nearing the two-week mark of my father lying in an ICU bed. We had started this journey full of hope but there was an inkling of doubt in the back of my mind. It started out as a tickle, the welling of tears as my throat squeezed tight with panic. I hadn’t registered reality, my dad was dying and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I clutched the small heart shaped locket—a vintage piece full of intricate swirls that he had gifted me some odd years before as I stared down at his beautiful face. I couldn’t fathom what was happening, how he could be here one minute and gone the next. I joined my siblings on a small couch under a window near his bed as we flipped on the television—I didn’t care what was going on outside of these four walls. The world could have burned down around me and I wouldn’t have known.
By K.H. Obergfoll2 years ago in Fiction
THE GHOST OF PIRATES PAST
CHAPTER ONE--THE PIRATE CURSE Lana Reyes pushed through the crowd on Fifty-Seventh and First Street in the bustling town-square as she passed under faded green arches. The vining trails of jasmine and honeysuckle clung to the cracked stucco as she took in the scents of her seaside garden wanting to remember every second of peace before full chaos ensued. She was only a few hundred feet away from the docks as she ran quickly down the stone encased steps making her way over to the dry wooden structure that jutted out along the coastline.
By K.H. Obergfoll2 years ago in Horror
