Horror
Number 203
Keep your head down and don't make a sound. There are eyes and ears everywhere. Eyes from the indestructible security cameras swiveling upon whitewashed walls, ears from the tiny microphones embedded in every slave collar clasped around our bare throats. There is no such thing as privacy anymore, not since the incident of 2095—Callagan's Rebellion, led by Reese Callagan, an immoral anarchist who set the White House aflame, opened fire in the Senate, and threw the whole country into chaos.
Desolate Salvation
This place is a wasteland, a world once thriving driven to destruction by a war no one thought they'd win. No matter where you look, everything is charred and dusty. What little remains of the architecture is dross, it's completely unrecognizable. The scene is vast and unchanging.
Functional on a WhimPublished 3 years ago in FictionSarah's Escape
Blood obscured Sarah’s vision as she ran through the forest, she tried to wipe it away, to see where she was running, but it just kept flowing from the gash across her forehead. She ran, and ran, and ran, the tree limbs she pushed through only caused more bleeding on her arms and her cheeks. She could feel her fist, clenched around her mother’s heart-shaped locket, filling with blood. She could barely breathe, barely run anymore, but she had to.
Michael BivensPublished 3 years ago in FictionDystopia, He survived
"So how is school going? No teachers notes your hiding? Or plans to hire a parent for any conferences I dont know about?" She asked her daughter with a half cocked smile.
Becky Mari EncinasPublished 3 years ago in FictionMovie Night
After far too long, finally our favorite weekend ritual was back up and running—the local movie theater. During the pandemic while the public was snuggling up on the couch and watching their favorite movies while sheltering in place, the movie theater in town was revamped. New look, new carpets, new snack bar, and (finally) new reclining seats. Needless to say Jake and I couldn’t be more pumped to get there for the midnight showing of “Galaxy Trooper”.
Gabriella DesireePublished 3 years ago in FictionIrregularity
Eve’s heart is filled with venom. Her expression is blank, of course, clean and empty. The eyes, however. The eyes give it away. Her eyes are welling and spilling with the depth of hatred only known by the valiant adversaries of irregularity.
Freya KellyPublished 3 years ago in FictionHide and Seek
The night had started out like any other weeknight. Lying in bed with the light off and the night light on, waiting for the peace of sleep. Which is why I was so curious when I heard the giggle of another child. It was strange, there wasnt supposed to be any other kids nearby and to my knowledge the neighbors didnt have any. So when the window gave off a clear-as-day giggle, I didnt bother to roll over to look.
The RedLight End
Waking up from my stomach growls, I begin to panic from the loud sound coming from outside of the window. I scramble, looking for my locket. This locket is unique to me, heart-shaped with an engraving that says “I will always love you” The special locket is a gift from my mom, who received it from her mom. It’s the only thing I have left in this horrible place.
Trina BaileyPublished 3 years ago in FictionTainted
CRASH! A loud glass-breaking noise erupts from the second floor. I’m not up there, and no one else but my younger sixteen-year-old sister is here. We've been alone since the Tainted started to appear and drag people to their graves only to have them resurface as the Bleached.
Bella AnnePublished 3 years ago in FictionWidowmaker
I could feel the life draining out of her with every passing second. My hands wrapped tightly around her throat, our eyes locked, adrenaline coursing through my veins. It was kill or be killed, but there was one thing I couldn’t shake as her convulsing spasms finally abated.
Bradley RamseyPublished 3 years ago in FictionNumber 50
Forty-nine. Forty-nine tallies etched like splintered veins into the sturdy oak headboard he once shared. Forty-nine less monsters terrorizing the town he called home. Forty-nine more reasons to keep fighting, to keep searching. He would carve out every inch of that headboard if it meant finding his family—his wife, his son.
D.M. RoseenPublished 3 years ago in FictionLiminal
I found it at a bus stop. Waiting for the 8:15 from downtown to the Park’s Ridge neighborhood so I could walk thirty minutes home. There was plenty of people around me and even though it was dark the bus stop’s lights made is safely bright. It was, like a crack in a door, between a tall trashcan and Coke machine. It wasn’t much brighter than the place around it but it was just bright enough to make this strange thin rectangle stand out of place with the rest of the environment.
Arthur E NicklesPublished 3 years ago in Fiction