Horror

An Ancient Thing
They waited, patiently. They always had. Never allowing their hunger to rule over their need for stealth. Their absolute need to remain unknown. If the prey knew of them it would end them. The hunters would become the hunted. So they waited, ravenous. Their hunger becoming a lust towards their prey. Young, old, male, female, it made no difference to them. Although some secretly preferring the young females. Generally they were the easiest prey anyway. Their innocence was like a scent on the breeze, calling to them. Luring them from their many hiding places, to feast on the souls and the flesh of these young innocents.
By Katie 4 years ago in Fiction
Lifeboat
A little lifeboat bobbed and pitched in rolled on relentless waves . Bob... PItch... Rol... Bob... Pitch... Roll... She could feel all of these motions but she could explain none. Only when she opened her eyes did she realize where she was. Staring up into the inky blackness of the sky, gazing at the apparent misplaced beauty of pinpoint stars, she began to understand.
By Debora Dyess4 years ago in Fiction
The Castle by the Sea
The waves crash on the black rocks below, the grass beneath my feet green. The cliff is high, the water too distant to splash me, but I hear the orchestra of tides and shores, water meets stone. The sky is gray—it is often gray. The castle is a ragged splinter piercing the air, the dark, crumbling stones mossy and crusted with lichen. I can see into the old courtyard through the fallen wall. The turret teeters above.
By Lauren Triola4 years ago in Fiction
When the Fire Goes Out...
The crackling of fire transmuted into a hiss of dying embers with the toss of a bucket of water. The ears flicking out of the water, way back in the reeds, didn’t miss the sound. The merry band was winding down for the night, most of their whiskey drunk.
By Harlequin Curio 4 years ago in Fiction
Teshuva
Teshuva* But God said to Jonah, “is it right for you to be angry … ?” “It is,” he said. “And I’m so angry I wish I were dead.”
By Shereen Akhtar4 years ago in Fiction
607 Hullberry St.
The fainting sounds of haunting carnival music, kids laughing and the smell of apple cider donuts followed Ava as she walked out of Ikeborrow’s Annual Spooky Festival. It was just about dusk, and Ava was determined to get to 607 Hullberry St. before it was completely dark. The streets were still filled with people, it was a Friday night, and it was mischief night. There was so much energy in the air, Ava almost felt like she could see it. The cops were already beginning to drive around, hoping to ward off any teenagers or adults from doing something stupid tonight. It didn’t matter, a million cops could be out, and it wouldn’t stop them. Mischief night was on a Friday and the weather was holding out. Mischief would be had tonight.
By Colleen Mitrano4 years ago in Fiction
El Demon Del Durango
It was 1954 when Paulo first went to work for the DD Ranch and Dale Delaughter treated the immigrant like a son the whole time he was there. Paulo was a whisperer, one of those people that was good with animals, especially the livestock. Paulo loved the work, loved the people, but most of all he loved the animals. His life was spent outdoors for the majority of the day, sometimes fifteen or more hours a day, working with the horses, herding the cattle, checking the property, making sure the animals were all healthy.
By Jason Ray Morton 4 years ago in Fiction
Reflection
I run by the tracks next to the river in the evening when most people are heading home from work or getting ready to eat dinner with their families. Apart from the sound of the cars whooshing by on the overpass above, it's relatively quiet and I rarely see anyone on the trail at all. I don't want to see anyone. I don't want to hear anyone. I just want to feel the breeze on my sweaty skin and meditate to the cadence of my trainers dancing along the dirty, rocky beaten path along the dark river while the sun goes down. I want to breathe the dust kicked up by my shoes and forget who I am. Where I've been. Where I'm going. I want to live in the reflection of the trees in the water and float far away into the black, silent void beneath it. I want to disappear.
By Amy Alls4 years ago in Fiction
Beneath The Amber Moon. Top Story - October 2021.
Colin hadn’t come to his hometown for many years, well he says town, a village is much closer to the truth, a tiny village. The type of village where, like a cheesy version of the old TV show 'Cheers', where everybody knows your name. But they aren't always glad you come that is for sure.
By SJ Covey4 years ago in Fiction
Coral and Pearl
They forced him to attend this gala every year. It was always a fundraiser that wanted to help orphaned pigeons or something equally as ridiculous. Benefactors arrived, took pictures, schmoozed up to some richer than life old lady with five or more hefty cats. The equally as bad, rich, geriatric fart that popped more Viagra than a pharmacy could prescribe in a week. Both had a high chance of flirting with something young enough to be their grand-daughter (or Great- grand in Ms. Juylawitz’s case).
By Bianca Hubbard4 years ago in Fiction
The Seaweed Monsters
Animosh had plans to go swimming one day and it always took some doing as Animosh did not like seaweed. What ever did he have to be afraid of he thought. It just gives me the creeps he told his mother. "Oh, you will be fine," said his mother. "Go swimming now and don't you be lazy Animosh!" As he got closer to the lake he felt a bit anxious. It wouldn't be a problem on this sandy beach. The beach was called Sandy Beach after all.
By Denise E Lindquist4 years ago in Fiction
Magdalena
For as long as I can remember, I've been drawn to the water. I couldn't explain why it was so appealing. Perhaps it was the fact that I wasn't allowed to go near it. Maybe there was an allure in the forbidden. As a small child I thought perhaps it was because my parents couldn't swim. Maybe they were worried I'd get too deep and drown, and they wouldn't be able to save me. However, as I got older I started to realize that no one in my small village went near the water. No one went to the ocean, no one went to the beach. As I started going to school I had even more people warning me away from the water. Teachers told us not to even step foot on the beach. Most people listened to the warnings and didn't question it, but I needed to know why. I couldn't understand it. I'd sit on the hill overlooking the beach, and I would read or draw while I watched the waves crash. Then I'd go home and ask my parents why I couldn't go on the beach. They'd say there were too many rip tides and I'd be snatched out to sea, unable to ever come back. That didn't make sense though, so I'd go to school and question the teachers. Then I'd get in trouble for not "falling in line like everyone else." I'd ask neighbors on the street, and they'd say it was because of an oil spill from long ago that never got cleaned up. I'd ask the grocer and the baker, and they'd say it was from some big company dumping toxic waste and killing everything; poisoning the water. That was why there was never any fish, and the next town over was so far away that it wasn't worth travelling to get any.
By Lila Renee 4 years ago in Fiction