Horror
The Desolation Of Sanity
Well this is… unfortunate, I think as I examine the blood stains splattered across the walls. I sigh and take a sip of my drink, feeling the heat as it goes down. It's always a good day for a drink when you have to put an axe through a man's face. I take another swig and pull out the cigarette I had tucked behind my ear. Out of all the things that could have brought the apocalypse it had to be this! I think pulling matches out of my backpack to spark up my smoke. I begin to wander around the house to collect anything useful. Wilted flowers, old dishes in a china set... Goddamn does this house have anything useful? My eyes fall on a sword hung on the wall. Hell yea, now we’re talkin I think reaching up yanking it off the wall. I wander back over to the man's corpse and stare for a moment before yanking my axe out of his forehead, watching as the blood slowly oozes out.Gross, I think putting my cigarette out on his face before walking out of the house.
By Sarah Mileski5 years ago in Fiction
The World Ends
The civilized world had ended five hundred years before, and many continued to argue about what, exactly, had caused The Cataclysm. Whether it was the result of one of the superweapons theorized to have existed at the time or the countless demons that poured out of underground vents at night was entirely unknown. Trevor had been born into the post-Cataclysm world, and frankly his work wasn’t impacted by what caused two thirds of the world to be eradicated in a single year. He was interested only in the prospect of finding remains, which had almost all been devoured by the demons hundreds of years before, leaving no organic traces of the previous civilization. The fame from such a find, he thought, could get him all he ever wanted.
By Travis Wellman5 years ago in Fiction
Hawk Roosting
“It is safe in here,” the mouse repeated to itself as the eternal chorus of a song stuck in its head. “It’s safe…” The place was dark and damp, a safe den where it lived and where it found the ideal refuge from his menacing claws; his deadly grip that could end its existence. He did it with its family, one by one, tortured them; decapitated them. It could still hear them screeching shouts of resistance, “creeeee! creeeee!,” their last sound as they unsuccessfully tried to climb the peak of life, their lives. That tree trunk was its home, a place where it was born and it refused to leave. Home, the place where you are supposed to be happy and unafraid…
By Jose Molina5 years ago in Fiction
The Shapeshifter’s Seduction
The rhythmic ticking of the church clock in the tower above provided a strange sense of familiarity for Tara. The consistent reminder of time marching on proved hypnotic as it mingled with the utter exhaustion swirling through her body. It felt like a taunt… seducing her with the far-fetched idea of rest without consequence. She releases a deep sigh of aspiration as she leans against the wall of the chapel and slides down slowly until her legs are fully extended before her. She groans under her breath as she slides her backpack off, one shoulder at a time, then tosses it weakly beside her. Ominous slithers of red and blue light dance across her heavily bruised legs, and she shifts her attention to the relentless sun hammering down directly through the broken stained glass skylight. It must be around noon. She started walking as the sun came up, and this was the first break of the day. As reluctant as she was to rest now, her swollen ankles all but demanded it.
By Grace Baldwin5 years ago in Fiction
The Silence
Atticus couldn’t resist snickering loudly, looking at the faded image of a woman plastered on the face of the billboard near strangled by overgrowth. It jutted out of the mass of trees oddly like a sore thumb. Though faded it had somehow been spared other destructive hallmarks from the fall of civilization - no rust marks, jagged edges of metal, not even tears in its picture. He could easily make out the gentle slope of chin. The delicate way her fingers brushed at her collarbone. A subtle enticement for any onlooker to invest their hard-earned wealth into the golden heart-shaped locket adorning the woman's neck.
By Gabrielle Rife5 years ago in Fiction
I Dreamt of Her In Passing
Beneath the skin of the world, behind the eyes of mankind, and under the spell of sleep, the realms of Dream were changing, and under their mercurial, starless skies, the Keepers brooded on the future. There was a cataclysm on the horizon, like a restless Dream at the edge of waking, and in the shadowland where Nightmares brewed, something wrong was stirring.
By Shiv MacFarlane5 years ago in Fiction
The Prey
The room wasn't small as such but the low ceiling made it feel somewhat suffocating. There were gaps in the rotten wooden panels but these let in no light from the adjoining rooms, and a chandelier hung still overhead, its once bronze exterior coated in rust and cobwebs.
By Charlotte Birch5 years ago in Fiction
The Girl in the Heart-Shaped Locket
Day… I no longer know the date. There is no need to know what date or day of the week it is anymore. I know it’s summer – I can tell that because of the oppressive heat and the hours of daylight. These days, the only sort of time you need to be aware of is the coming of the dark.
By Ross Stewart5 years ago in Fiction
Passing On
The woman shuffles along the road, looking like someone who hasn’t slept in days. She sways gently as she meanders up the road, ignoring scattered rubbish and debris. Kit follows her on dampened feet. She at least is more wary of the trash lest she draw attention to herself. The wandering woman pauses and tilts her head back. Kit darts in, drawing her weapon from the sheath on her chest. Before the woman can turn fully, the six inch ice pick is embedded firmly in her ear. Her cry is aborted and her limbs twitch but Kit wraps her arms around them.
By Raechel Hudson5 years ago in Fiction
Short Dystopian Fiction with Heart Shaped Locket – By Susan Sanders
Well the world as we know it finally ended and life goes on as it always does. The cockroach is now king as everyone always suspected it always would be. It crawls peacefully over rubble and the remains of most fleshy things taking what it needs and ignoring pretty much everything else.
By Susan Sanders5 years ago in Fiction
Forget About Me
Duval Street oozed with revelers celebrating the end of days. The past week like no other. Air quality decreased because of nearby infernos. Much of the region reduced to rubble and chaos by a massive upheaval, but that didn’t stop the party. Amid the haze, neon lights from the bars and clubs glowed along the thoroughfare.
By Ryan Brown5 years ago in Fiction
