Pryia Blunt
Bio
Achievements (1)
Stories (13/0)
Bonded
The cabin in the woods has been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. A gentle crossbreeze caused it to flicker, casting odd, rippling shadows around the room. She didn’t even notice. She was too focused on the cleaning she needed to get done before he woke up.
By Pryia Blunt2 years ago in Fiction
Lost Identities
The cabin in the woods has been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. This burning candle had been the topic of discussion among the groups of teens that frequented the woods since its discovery a few weeks back. The cabin that contained the candle had been the topic of discussions among teens a few decades back. At that time, the buzz was that the inhabitant, a very kind and helpful man named Todd, was arrested in connection to a slew of missing persons. The missing were always campers from far away places. And at the time, no bodies had been discovered. Just a few alleged sightings nearby. Rumors, really. And what if someone did see Todd nearby an alleged crime scene? He was probably collecting firewood for the elders nearby, or foraging for those berries the little kids loved but weren’t tall enough to reach, or checking traps, or any number of things that Todd had been known to do, as a resident of those woods. But, he was taken in and questioned. And held. For a few days. But there’s no proof of any crimes committed because some psychopath killed him when he was asleep in his bunk, the night before he was set to be released. It happened during a massive storm. The power grid to the entire town went out. And for some unknown reason, the jails generator didn’t kick on for over 6 minutes. Over 6 minutes with no lights, no cameras, and no locks on cells. Lots of people were injured in that short time, but only one was killed. As for how he was killed, it was said that someone had bitten their way through his neck. Right to his spine. The police never figured out who did it. With such a gruesome method, the guilty party would be covered with blood. But, once the power was restored, everyone was present and accounted for, and no one had enough blood on them to match the scene. There were those present with bloody noses, busted lips, and the like, but nothing near what'd be expected from a jugular rupture. Likewise, none of the contained had teeth that matched the indentations that were found on the body, although they were quite difficult to collect and what was collected was hardly reliable as evidence. Either way, it’s unknown who killed Todd, just as it was unknown what happened to those campers.
By Pryia Blunt2 years ago in Horror
As Moths
The cabin in the woods has been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. As you approach, you hear a faint sound. Was it a sigh? Was it a satisfied hum? But where’s it coming from? Was it from you? Are you hearing things in your exhaustion? It’s said no one's lived here for over 50 years. You, tired from the hike, and having found nowhere else to rest, enter the cabin. You push open the door and assess. The place is small and only illuminated by the candle. There aren’t any light fixtures to be seen. Otherwise, it looks normal enough. A one room space with a small kitchen, a dusty and firm looking bed, a door that leads to a closet sized room, most likely a bathroom, a mounted shelf, and 2 end tables beside an inviting looking couch. You take a seat on the small sofa and fall asleep instantly. Suddenly you’re awake. Hours have passed. How many, you can’t be sure, but things feel different. You can feel there’s been a shift of some kind, though everything looks the same. What other shift could there have been other than the passage of time. Your body is still tired and your mind still foggy so why are you awake? You lie back and drift again when you feel eyes on you. You bolt upright and look around the small room. Did you just see a shadow scurry away? No, it must’ve been an illusion of the dancing candle light. Or your overly tired mind playing tricks on you. You take a breath and lie back again and then you feel something brush lightly against your leg. You instinctively reach your hand to the spot you felt the touch, thinking maybe it was a spider, or some other insect. Your hand comes back covered in something sticky and damp. You rub your thumb across your fingertips. The slick and viscous substance is warm. Did you squish something? You look closer at your hand. The substance is dark and far too plentiful to be from a bug. It smells metallic. Is this blood? Is it coming from you? You reach your other hand to the spot on your leg but it comes back clean. Holding your hands side by side, you see they’re both clean. ‘‘How? What’s going on? Am I losing it?’’ you think to yourself. You just need some rest. If you could just get a few hours of sleep, you can figure out how to get home. You need to get to sleep fast because every moment of daylight could be critical to getting you home. You close your eyes and start some 4-7-8 breathing. You feel your body relax as you envision leaves on tall tree branches against a bright blue sky, swaying to your breaths, as if you were the wind itself. That vision transforms into a picnic in a lush park with your favorite person. A wicker basket atop a red and white blanket, filled with all of your favorite snacks and drinks. You two lounging, laughing, chatting. The chatting, it’s growing louder. Would you call it chatting? It’s somewhere between chatting and chittering. An almost human sound, too quickly spoken to understand. The sound increases to a roar, surrounding you. It’s deafening. You’re awake suddenly but the sound is still there. Your heart rate accelerates. But then it’s gone. Everything is silent. Was the sound here or was it just the lingering strings of a vivid dream? You shake your head and shoulders loose, shake away those cobweb like memories. You walk over to the window where the candle sits and peek out. Maybe there’s an animal there causing a ruckus? This late, it's unlikely, but you check anyway. And as you thought, there’s no one there. Just you, the candle, the shadows, and the silence. You sit back on the couch and allow your body and mind to take comfort in the isolation. “If there’s no one around, there’s no danger” you tell yourself silently. Most of your mind accepts this, and agrees. But that small, primitive, animal part of you, the sensing part, the knowing part, gives a small protest. You feel a squeeze in your gut, an ever so slight tearing of your eyes. You swallow the feeling. That illogical child-brained feeling that says every pile of clothes on a chair in the dark is a boogie man waiting to devour you as soon as you let your guard down. You swallow it and lay your head against the plush pillows of the sofa. You close your eyes and try to sleep once again. You breathe, you envision, you count, but sleep doesn’t come. Why? What’s going on? You’ve never felt more exhausted in your life. You rack your brain for any sleep inducing tricks you may not have tried when all the shadows in the room pulse as one, and the sound of the crackling candle shakes you to your core. It’s then you realize it’s been absolutely silent. Pin drop silence since…since…since you woke up. Are you even awake? This unnatural silence in the middle of the woods…no rustling leaves…no crickets. You must still be dreaming. You have to be. That’s why you can’t fall back to sleep. You’re already asleep. Well…what do you do now?
By Pryia Blunt2 years ago in Horror
Crazy
“You’re crazy.” He hissed, with palpable vitriol, as he slammed the front door behind him. Me standing firm in the fact that I definitely heard something, have been hearing something, is always a reason for him to leave. At this point, nothing he can say hurts me. And for it to be that I’m crazy is comical.
By Pryia Blunt2 years ago in Fiction
The Gift
She was glistening, from sweat and from the afterglow. The wisp at her hairline that escaped her bun framing her face and shining in the stark light looked like a crown, or a halo. She was radiant. She was surprised that the experience wasn’t as painful as people made it seem. It was definitely intense, but not painful. It was her first time, and it really wasn’t that bad. She actually enjoyed this, she realized. She sat there, blissed out, feeling elated. Feeling proud, as her body settled and her senses returned to her.
By Pryia Blunt2 years ago in Fiction
The Thicket
“Girl! If you don’t bring yo ass!” I whisper shout through clenched teeth at my cousin Brittany. By marriage. She is my favorite uncle’s wife’s child from a previous relationship. I still remember the first time we met. I was four. My uncle had told me I was meeting some people who were very important to him, so I should be nice. And try to become friends, because they are gonna be family now. Then he walked me into the den, and this wild haired blond girl ran up and hugged me. Before I could even see her face. She says “I hope we can be best friends!” And I said “You smell funny.” My uncle grabbed my arm and kneeled to my eye level and whisper shouted to me “I asked you to be nice” through clenched teeth, the same way I’m speaking now. I wasn’t trying to be mean. I was just making an observation. Luckily, she and her mom thought it was funny. I later found out it was nit shampoo or spray or lotion. Something like that. It smelled like black licorice and tea tree oil. I never smelled anything like that in my life!
By Pryia Blunt2 years ago in Fiction
Planted
The woman had always lived in this small town. As did her mother, as did her mother’s mother, and maybe even her mother before that. She knew this town as well as she knew her own body. The schools, the chemical plant, the grocery store, the strip mall, the clinic, the bank, the community college. She grew up here. As did her daughter. They grew up here, together. That’s what happens when you have a baby at fifteen. You grow up together. And grow up, she had.
By Pryia Blunt2 years ago in Fiction
Matured
“They’re here.” I bolt awake with a start. The simple whispered phrase haunting my moons. The glowing white eyes, that after lunars of the repeat occurrence in my dreams, are burned into my psyche. The white eyes of something long dead. Moon after moon. Without fail. I wish I knew what it meant. I wish I knew who those eyes belonged to. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be plagued by them. Maybe then, I could get a decent moon of slumb.
By Pryia Blunt2 years ago in Fiction
Lost
“I always have to be the hero.” Faye thought, admonishing herself for her current predicament. This was supposed to be good for her. This was supposed to be different. A fresh start. A new place, a clean slate, a step towards normal. And here she was, in trouble again. Lost. Again.
By Pryia Blunt3 years ago in Horror
Milkshake
“I’ll take a vanilla milkshake, and a water with extra ice.” Audrey said to the waitress with a huge, innocent smile. “I’d like...uuhh...the spaghetti, but instead of meatballs, can you do potatoes? I’ll pay extra if I have to.” I wanted the waitress to know I don’t eat meat, without saying “I’m vegan” because people always feel a way about that. “You don’t want a milkshake?” Audrey asked me coyly. “No, Audrey, I don’t.” I rolled my eyes. She always does that. Tries to tempt me to animal products. It never works.
By Pryia Blunt4 years ago in Filthy
Session 4/18/20
I sit, naked, waiting. The floor is covered in butcher paper, shiny side down, duct taped in place. In case things get messy. I’m sure things will get messy. There are three small space heaters, arranged in a triangle around me. The room is comfortably warm. But I couldn’t stop shivering. I think I’m nervous. Odd.
By Pryia Blunt4 years ago in Filthy