Horror
I Wish I Knew
“Wow… I don’t think I’ve ever noticed the burn marks that covered the walls around me... I guess I wouldn’t, right?” she thought as she adjusted her right leg, which was missing from the knee down, further into the dark, daunting hole in the cave. She always had to take the prosthetic off and crawl when trying to get in here.
By Naomi Walker3 years ago in Fiction
One last Cig
Opening the door, reality hits him in the face. The fantasy of reuniting with his wife and son to move into the unknown died the moment his eyes met the street. Pulling up were 3 purification patrols. There was no use in hoping they were looking for someone else. There was no hope of talking his way out of it. An empty house, a packed bag, and dressed like a Glitch. He was fucked and he knew it.
By E.D. Nonam3 years ago in Fiction
Please, My Son Will Be Home Soon. He Can Explain.
The door to the woman’s home was on the ground, the hinges still clinging to the doorframe by splinters. She was on her knees beside the couch, wailing as if Katie and Chris were going to kill her. She clutched her hands together and begged in her language. Or maybe she was praying. She kept bowing her head like she was trying not to look at them. Katie hated people like this. People who would try to get pity when they broke the rules. People who would spend all their time and money getting over here, but wouldn’t put in the basic effort to learn the laws or language. They wouldn’t even do the bare necessities to communicate.
By Blake Smith3 years ago in Fiction
Trophy Room Chain Letter
In mid-2020, I decided to create a series of miniature trophy busts. I combined creative writing and crafting to create a backstory for each one. The overarching story of the trophy busts is that they are black market items previously owned by a shady man named Dickii Solo, who recently died.
By Chelsea Campbell3 years ago in Fiction
Piper's Last Song
The water over St. Anthony Falls was spewing spewing forth as if in a mad rush to make it from the Mississippi to the sea. Piper had noticed that in the last year, the once-foul water had become unusually pure; so much so that she begun to eat some of the fish she caught, rather than putting them all out for the cats.
By Juliette McCoy Riitters3 years ago in Fiction
Simone had OCD
Simone couldn’t help reliving the tense days leading up to her radical relocation from the middle of Hollywood, CA, to the New Mexico desert. She had even purchased military grade gaiters to protect her lower legs from the imagined hordes of vipers that awaited her.
By Synecdoche3 years ago in Fiction
The Devil's paradise
The wooden door creaked open when Officer Thomas Richardson kicked it with his boots. He strongly gripped a pistol for the safety measures and progressed into the darkness of Mrs. Catherine Earnest’s basement. It was pitch black and anything could be hardly witnessed to the human eye. When he stepped in, a strong pungent odor smashed his breathing ability. Officer Richardson covered his nose and mouth by a small piece of napkin from his pocket. Slowly behind him, two other officers walked into the basement holding torches. The beam of flash managed to wipe out the darkness and guide them further. It was an eerie environment like a deserted place. No noise was echoed except their footsteps. There were broken and old furniture shattered all over the basement. The walls were roughly painted; the wallpapers were torn and it was cold inside there.
By Jayashree M3 years ago in Fiction
Brown Sugar
I am inexplicably, unconditionally, irrevocably in love with him. The way he looks down when he smiles yet the corners of his lips turn up, its manic what he does to me its like death and life combined to form him in the image of their deepest desires in a manifested, physical form.
By Emma Ewart3 years ago in Fiction
Ape See, Ape Do
The heavy rain was deafening on the truck’s loose roof paneling but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise of the old diesel engine screaming in protest as Wyatt forced it into the next stiff gear. Wyatt bounced jarringly in his seat as he slid around a corner followed by the stress-inducing sound of cargo tumbling in the back of the truck. Either the contents fell or the truck's panels had finally given out. He hoped it wasn’t the cargo; he couldn’t afford more truck repairs but losing the product would mean he wouldn't be paid either. His phone glowed on the dashboard as his destination came into view: a large theatre, painted red, trimmed with gold and illuminated by glowing signs of upcoming acts. Wyatt picked up his phone.
By Eloise Robertson 3 years ago in Fiction
The Library Voyeur
My dearest readers, how kind of you to join me on this fine evening. What am I doing here and what are we observing - you ask? Well, we are here for my favourite subject. Don’t be fooled by how ordinary he looks; I promise you he is worth the watch.
By Eloise Robertson 3 years ago in Fiction