O. Grimley
Bio
Cryptic weaver of nightmares, I delve into humanity's shadows, unearthing fears to craft chilling tales. Embrace the darkness within my words.
Stories (2/0)
The Mirror
The mirror showed a reflection that wasn’t my own. It was a twisted, hideous mockery of the human form, a grotesque caricature of some perverse artist’s nightmare. The figure’s skin was mottled and bruised, its hair a tangled mass of greasy black strands that hung lifelessly around its misshapen face. A wide, malicious grin revealed teeth as sharp and twisted as a shark’s, and its eyes, those soulless orbs of midnight, seemed to burrow into the darkest corners of my mind.
By O. Grimleyabout a year ago in Horror
The Portrait
Part I: The Antique Shop Late autumn had filled the quaint town of Derry, Maine, with the colors of rust and gold. A crisp chill clung to the air, and the scent of woodsmoke and decay lingered like a half-forgotten memory. On a desolate street lined with abandoned antique shops, there stood one whose dusty window still beckoned passersby with a single handwritten sign: “Closing Sale. Everything Must Go.”
By O. Grimleyabout a year ago in Horror
