Horror
Drift
A lone cloud brings a small trickle of rain. You wait under a hut as it passes. You're traveling from one end of the island to the other, bringing with you fruits your mother's mother. She's too old to walk across the sand, so you make sure she doesn't have to.
The End
January 7, 3003 The world is a fucking disgusting, sickening place. It’s been two years since they dropped the bomb. No one knows who created it. There was nothing to prepare for what happened that day.
Gabriella LopezPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Cradle of Broken Hearts
“There were those alive that day who still believed. They believed what we were told about Cradle, our city. “Our city.
J.R. KennedyPublished 3 years ago in FictionJuliett
Juliett. She’s the only reason I’m here. I don’t actually belong here and I don't want to be here otherwise. This music is pounding, hurting my head. These people are annoying, running around and yelling. This drink is awful, way too strong. And it took us 30 minutes just to get in. The club scene has never been for me, I prefer to be home, or working, or working at home. But when my friends say Juliett is coming out, I force myself out. It’s worth it to see her, moving like an aerialist's silk ribbon on the dance floor, elegant, graceful, beautiful. And here I am, standing in my usual spot off the main floor, with the same bad drink in hand, surrounded by the same annoying people, watching in silence. “Hey! Hey, Michael!” One of my friends, Austin, appears through the mass of people toward me, “Ya, know. We’ve been coming here, what? Every week for about two years?” “Ever since we started working together, yes.” I responded. “Right. Well my point is, at LEAST half those times, Juliett has come with us and just about everyone knows you have the hots for her and you’ve never tried to talk to her once!” “We’ve had this conversation before,” I retort, “I can’t just walk up to her, she’ll think I’m weird.” “Well I think you’re weird and you still come and walk up to me.” From behind me now, another of my friends, Dylan, enters the conversation, “Austin’s right, you wanna spend every Friday in this corner watching her?” “I already do.” “Yes, and we all know how much fun you have every time.” I assume he meant that jokingly. The last of the friends I came with tonight saw our gathering and made his way over, Morgan, “Juliett?” He looked at Dylan and Austin, they nodded. “Alright.” Morgan said and in one fell swoop, Austin took my drink, Dylan laughed and Morgan lifted me up and began carrying me onto the dance floor. Being a good foot taller than me and this not being an uncommon occurrence already, he had little trouble in the matter. “Morgan I know what you’re trying to do but I do not need nor do I what your help in this matter, I have a plan and all I-” mid sentence I’m dropped and I stumble in a bid to keep my feet under me. As I am about to walk back the way I came I hear a voice from behind me, “Wanna dance?” It comes just loud enough to hear above the bass of the music but just soft enough to know who’s lips it came from.
Austin KirwanPublished 3 years ago in FictionFinal Decision
Breathless with terror, she entered the courthouse using the badge she was given. Twenty-seven-year-old Laura Jenkins, pregnant mom of one didn’t know what to do. She bypassed the metal detectors and X-ray machines, a privilege given to grand jurors. She headed up to level four of the courthouse where the grand jury convened.
Jen MearnsPublished 3 years ago in FictionCurrency
There is a membrane between the conscious world and the unconscious one. A viscous film that keeps the nightmares from crawling from the dark into the light, prevents the horror from seeping through the cracks. Rowen woke with the feeling of gauze unsticking. Malignant dreams clutched at her with bloody fingers as the shadows resolved themselves from monsters into furniture. The metallic noise of the machine at her side kept time with her pulse and she fretted a moment at the sound of it. Her left arm wrapped in bandages, she felt for the nurse call button with her right and waited. Agonized floating near the ceiling, the swish and whoosh of the door sliding open, jumbled blocks of voices falling into piles on the floor.
Almost There
The boy stopped, holding his fist up to signal for the girl to do the same. She did so, gladly. Her feet burned as if on fire, cuts and bruises covering almost every inch.
Blake AnglinPublished 3 years ago in FictionGrounded
Teleportation was a public relations nightmare for eight years before it entered mass production: ripped torsos, missing fingers, bodies remapped on top of each other. It’s a miracle that it ever caught on, but Oracle still stipulates that more Americans die in hovercar accidents each year than teleportation malfunctions.
Meghan CookPublished 3 years ago in FictionGod of Pain
Twelve seconds. That’s how long I made it yesterday. Nine seconds the day before. Eight the day before that. Progress, I keep telling myself. Something to hold on to. A number. A goal. A motivation. To live. To kill. A motivation is a heart that beats. A single drop of blood that can be pushed all the way to one little, middle finger, to deliver that final ‘fuck you’ to the eyes of anyone who was sick and twisted enough to still look anymore. To watch. I could feel their eyes on me. The sick bastards. Or bitch? Guess I might like that. No. Remember. One more ‘fuck you’. That would be good enough. For now.
Matt OwensPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Scream
From behind my eyelids the sun colored my dreams in red. The man was screaming, arms outstretched in my direction, behind him a small boy with curly hair with a look of fear on his face mouthed the word “Momma”. When I opened my eyes they were gone, replaced with the debris and dust and myself amongst the rubble. I sat up, a searing pain spread from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. I instinctively touched the top of my head , a warm thick liquid oozing out. My legs were pinned by a large pile of concrete and it appeared that I was in some sort of crater of wreckage , a bomb maybe? where is everyone? am I the only survivor ? Taking a deep breath I tried to steady my nervous heart, being alone and wounded is not the time to panic, or at least that’s what I had been taught. I? I thought to myself. The next question I asked myself brought on a bigger sense of panic, Who am I ?
Veronica leePublished 3 years ago in FictionTrue Love
It was during the time of The Virus and the world had already turned upside down. He knew that was no excuse but he couldn’t help himself; he had no choice but to use it to his advantage. He spotted her on the subway getting on at St. Patrick Street and wondered if she was on her way to work or if she had some business in that neighbourhood. So many offices were dark and abandoned, their polished lobby floors the delight of the cleaners that could admire their handiwork without the mobs of boots splashing their trails of salty, grimy snow across them.
Julia AbelsohnPublished 3 years ago in FictionReflections at the End
The coming dawn released me from my torpor. It could always find me, the sun, even down in my anchorhold. It simply FELT red, like a bite of a warm berry.
Guenneth SpeldrongPublished 3 years ago in Fiction