Shawn Ingram
Bio
In January 2021, I contracted the virus du jour. I thought I was going to die. For three weeks, all I did was sleep, moan, and dream.
The following month I joined VOCAL.media. I've published over 150 sories so far!
Stories (118/0)
Mirrors 3
Hold it up sternly! See this it sends back! (Who is it? Is it you?) Walt Whitman, A Hand-Mirror --- At first, it was just a campaign of rumors. At least that’s what most folks told themselves. Some misinformation spread for some reason or another. But then, after enough different people reported the same story of seeing their reflection in the mirror behaving unusually, the story gained enough traction for the posted videos to go viral.
By Shawn Ingram3 years ago in Horror
Marty
"Son? What son? I have no son." Sonia can still remember the detective's words to the policeman and Tony's expression. His father's words appeared to hurt the teenage psychopath more than Marty's stabbing had. An honest cop had learned that his son was one-half a serial-rapist team that for three years had silently wrecked young girls' lives. They had been so successful because of their ruthless inventiveness. They warned their victims that theirs was a secret society; their number was legion, they had informed each girl. Both were lies; it was only the two of them. They threatened the girl's siblings or parents with a similar fate or worse if they went to the police. It was a strategy that worked very well. Dutifully, not one of their victims went to the police. What they did do was visibly deflate; once outgoing, bubbly, funny, social, they all sort of receded into the background, each kept a low-profile, overnight they became meek, retiring, timid creatures.
By Shawn Ingram3 years ago in Criminal
Moonglow
11:07 PM She was supposed to have gotten off two hours ago, and she is exhausted, as tired as she’s ever been. Suzy pulls her name tag off her Nurse’s smock and places it in the center console. She flicks her smartphone on, unlocks the screen, sees she has a lot of new notifications.
By Shawn Ingram3 years ago in Horror
Empty Garden
INTRODUCTION As usual, it takes the man nearly 30 minutes to panic. By then, he has noticed the signs and notes. His apartment walls are covered with them, hundreds if not thousands of short and not so short messages to him. Somehow he intuits that he wrote every note he sees throughout his tiny studio apartment. Maybe he remembers it. All he knows is he has little concern about who wrote them.
By Shawn Ingram3 years ago in Humans
A Scorpionic Angle of Perception
I feel I’m not explaining it well to my friend Chris, so I start again. “Your staircase becomes the horizon, the only perfectly horizontal line one can find on an astrological natal birth chart. It’s the line that bisects the chart and runs from the ascendant, or rising sign on the left, to the descendant on the right.”
By Shawn Ingram3 years ago in Horror
3:14 AM
Days later, I will remember this was the night I first peered inside the SUV, the flashing blue lights. --- My sleep patterns are not nearly as satisfying as they once were. I used to adore my sleep. Now, it seems the fairy has grown stingy with her sand. I sleep only fitfully, sporadically. Usually, I wake in the middle of the night.
By Shawn Ingram3 years ago in Horror
Where Are They?
"Where are mom and dad?" my little sister asks again. It breaks my heart that I don't have a good answer to the question. The truth is simple; I don't know where our parents are. And that is not right. None of this is right - not by a wide margin; it is all wildly, unforgivably wrong. How is it that I, a fifteen-year-old high-school sophomore, should be left to babysit my two younger siblings?
By Shawn Ingram3 years ago in Fiction