Horror
Jack in the Meadow
I sat on a lounge chair at the edge of my backyard which overlooked the luscious green meadows behind my house. Fields that bloomed with wildflowers. Clusters of milkweed and black-eyed susans and daisies. Being the middle of June, at only 10 in the morning, the weather was already beginning to warm.
By Jasmine Aguilar18 days ago in Fiction
WINTERGLOOM: HOLLOWSGROVE COVEN
The rusting iron gears of the town square clock tower ground together, striking fifteen minutes to four. In Wallowshill, four o'clock wasn’t just for tea time; it signaled the start of twilight in the mainland—a warning Lindsay Newell had never once seen enacted before this year. In fact, it was a tradition she had mostly done in private, in the walls of her own home. Casting spells over fault-lines so witches could more easily traverse the Witching Worlds between Covens and veiled cities—cloaking cities, like this one.
By K.H. Obergfoll19 days ago in Fiction
The Stroke of Midnight 5
As I was standing there surrounded by these masks I thought to myself how did they go from their 'mask' room to the library. The masks all started to hum and what seemed to be like walking around me. At times they got really close and then move back. They did this for a few minutes and went back to the chairs and couch and sat eerily quiet. I tried to back away to the door, but I felt frozen to the floor. The masks that stood for Ying and Yang started to hum once again. I just stood there.
By Mark Graham19 days ago in Fiction
WINTERGLOOM
Christmas lights hung on the porch as most houses did in December—but, it was late August. The thick black wires were tacked gently onto my copper gutters. I didn’t mind the slight intrusion, they went well with the wind chimes and glass bottle suncatchers. Of course, other houses on the block look pristine with their manicured lawns and freshly painted siding, but they were empty shells. Cold, sterile frames made from generic wood and drywall. I was different. I breathed. I felt. I saw. I knew.
By K.H. Obergfoll19 days ago in Fiction
A Bag of Tricks or Treats
Halloween night as all the children were out collecting their lute in the form of many different candies dressed from fun to scary to, I don't know what costumes I sat on my front porch ready to pass out the candy I bought for such an event such as this. What is scary is that all these children were marching down the street headed for my house. I gave good treats (full size), but as they got closer their eyes glowed. This is a trick I hope, but what did I do to deserve to be tricked on this night?
By Mark Graham19 days ago in Fiction
The Stroke of Midnight 4
Yes, I peeked into that room and now I wish I hadn't. I was actually pushed by something. The lights flickered. The fireplace roared. The masks that were not supposed to be in this room, believe it or not, were sitting as if having a conversation. I felt a hand or something give me a push, but I stood my ground till I got my bearings just a little bit. I continued to study those masks and did approach cautiously where they were sitting. One spoke 'It seems you made it." My voice shaky answered "I guess I did. "Ouch!"
By Mark Graham19 days ago in Fiction
The Stroke of Midnight 3
As I reached the bottom of the stairs the whispering was louder and coming from down the hall. I was hoping that whispering was not coming from the room full of masks that relatives kept giving me, but that I did do something with them. Wouldn't you know it as I was slowly walking down the hall and found myself at the door to the 'mask' room the door right across slightly squeaked open. Do I dare peek? I asked myself. I wonder if curiosity did kill the cat in situations like this. I started to open the door slowly.
By Mark Graham19 days ago in Fiction
The Christmas Music Box
Halloween had always been Darren’s favorite. It was a shame, Rebecca thought, that he was no longer here to celebrate it. She thought about the last Halloween - how his sandy blonde hair had stood on end, pulled by the static as he slipped off his batman mask, blue eyes twinkling in the orange glow that permeated everything that night. She thought about how she was torn over celebrating, or not, as she hoisted tote bags full of his favorite peanut butter filled chocolates onto the counter. She knew he would want her to celebrate, how his smile would have crinkled into a mischievous smirk planning costumes and tricks to go with the treats, but her broken heart felt so empty now that faux tombstones had turned into real monuments of grief. Her melancholy escaped from her chest in a deep sigh as she looked around the quaint kitchen until her eyes found the trim around the door that led to the mud room.
By Ellie Hoovs20 days ago in Fiction
