Horror
Chucky: A Friend to Begin
Ten year old Marcus is out shopping for birthday gift at the newly opened KB Kids toy store with his mother Mary when he comes across a Good Guy Doll. “Wow!” Marcus begins in excitement. “Mom look. It’s one of the classic good guy dolls.” “Marcus you’ve never been into dolls.” Mary began. “Action figures have always been your thing.” “Ma, they still are, but I’ve been hearing everyone at school and on tik tok talk about how cool good guys were back in your time…a long long time ago.”
By Joe Pattersonabout 6 hours ago in Fiction
The Cave
Musty air permeates the room and settles deep within your lungs. It chokes you while you strain against every trembling breath. Something metallic coats your tongue. Is it blood, or something else? You lick your dry, cracking lips, and the iron seeps deeper into your taste buds. It dribbles down your chin with every attempt to spit it away. You swallow hard instead but are met with what feels like needles lining your throat. It makes you cough hard into your hand that comes away coated crimson.
By Gunnar Andersona day ago in Fiction
Claustrophobia
You awaken with no memory of the events prior. You shimmy on your back, dragging yourself backward through this little tunnel. Your claustrophobia sets in as you feel your chest contract. You produce little, stifled breaths, trying not to hyperventilate as you proceed shakily toward a dim light, one shoulder blade at a time. You perceive it to be a few yards away. You think of nothing else but getting to that light, emerging from this dark and suffocating crawlspace, however you ended up in it. As you inch backward, the walls form a bottleneck, and you are forced to pull your elbows in tightly to your chest. The passage constricts further, until your shoulders are abated on either side. You feel yourself beginning to lose control, indeed, to hyperventilate, as the pace of your breathing escalates. You feel a panic building as it begins to overtake you. In the distance, your fingers find the edge of the tunnel. You rip yourself free.
By Noah Husbanda day ago in Fiction
Do You Part
You're only halfway done, but you know good and well that you look fabulous. Traditionally, a woman in this situation would have her trusted coven of sisters join her in the preparations, but you have no one. Not a single person would consent to this after learning about the anticipated result. If you had kept all crucial information confidential, you might have had at least one sister by your side. Alas, you must curl your own hair and polish your own silver.
By Cat the Autista day ago in Fiction
Meet Sheriff Archer Crowe
Sheriff Archer Crowe has served Ashveil Hollow for the last eleven years, ever since he replaced the late (not always great) Sheriff Steve Calloway— who didn’t so much as retire as stopped returning calls. It took the town a week to notice, and three more days after that for the then-Deputy Crowe to go check on him himself, on what was meant to be a routine welfare call. The bloat wasn’t the worst part. It was the smell. Ten days, all told, before anyone thought to go looking for a sheriff. (See, he wasn’t a very good sheriff.)
By Chel Writesa day ago in Fiction
