Tabby Ashworth
Bio
Aspiring writer who enjoys writing dark stories. Fantasy and horror are my favorite genres
Stories (9/0)
10 miles to woodmont
Fog and mist from Lake Morna obscure a long and winding two-lane road. Even with the high beams blaring from her old dark blue Honda Civic, Darcy could barely see twenty feet in front of her. A loud ringing came from the phone she had set on the passenger seat.Without taking her eyes off the road, she reached over and picked it up. A picture of Mark, her brother, popped up on screen. Darcy rolled her eyes, she told him it would take an hour or so to get to the cabin. Woodmont cabins are a little way out, but worth the drive.
By Tabby Ashworth2 years ago in Horror
The Girl with the Green Eyes
Tick… Tick… Tick… Tick. A large, handsome Grandfather clock ticks the time forward. A moot point in my opinion. The need for keeping time is long gone. The world is baron, crops have all but died and potable water is becoming increasingly rare. I survived this long…I’ll never know how. Maybe I’m just too stubborn to die, or maybe I was left behind by whatever God let all this happen, or maybe I just slipped past his gaze.
By Tabby Ashworth3 years ago in Fiction
Blue Ribbon Girl
I see her there, staring out the mirror. The girl with raven hair and one would consider fair. With all that has been endured, a light still lit, keeping her wit in this game of survival. The Gods took pity and gave her this: Play the part girl, the lady, the slave. In the end you will find bliss.
By Tabby Ashworth3 years ago in Poets
The Crimson woman
I can feel my hands sweating, I have never been so nervous in my life. She’s late, I should’ve never agreed to this, I knew she was too hot for me. Granted I am a decently attractive man, but even with my looks, I still don’t know why she asked me to dinner. Maybe she’s a catfish? Maybe it was a joke. I can feel myself starting to panic. I wave down the waitress, “Can I please get another drink?” The young lady smiles a pitiful smile and says in an adorable southern drawl, “Sure thing sir. Another whiskey sour?” I nod overly aggressive.
By Tabby Ashworth3 years ago in Horror
No. 1
It was a normal day and I was walking home from school clad in black. It’s a beautiful cloudy day and all I could do is sulk. School is monotonous as always; day after day of dealing with teachers, doing the same work over and over. My “peers” are the worst. Always laughing, talking…existing. The worst of them, Jake.
By Tabby Ashworth3 years ago in Criminal