Horror
The First of His Army
It is night, and there is a cold chill in the air. A full moon hangs bloated in the sky. The trees creak and groan, unease lingering on their branches as a murder of crows sit above. Their heads turn and swivel, beady eyes searching into the unknown for someone, something, to sate their curiosity. It is met by the sound of footsteps.
By Juliette Bissell5 years ago in Fiction
Under Ice
The pond was frozen. The ice was thick and deep, just right for skating on. Edie recognized this pond. It was the one she used to go skating on every winter as a child in Minnesota. Living in Los Angeles for the last ten years, it had been ages since she'd seen ice like that.
By Gwen Livesay5 years ago in Fiction
The Frozen
She stared out over the pond. Ice-skaters whizzed by her, some waving and smiling, and she returned their greetings. Did they wonder what she was doing here? It didn't matter. She would skate again next winter maybe, but the thought of getting out on that frozen graveyard literally chilled her to the bone.
By Debora Dyess5 years ago in Fiction
The Swimming Pool
Slate grey clouds rolled in from across the water, silhouettes of birds flew for cover in the threat of a cold night and biting winds. An abandoned hotel sat in the middle of the fury of the wind and the animals scurrying for safety; the hotel stood without a guest passing through its rooms for a little over a decade. On browning grass and thick weeds that reached for the sky like a beggar, the hotel sat, out of place like it had been built as someone’s afterthought. A building created from a dream, but for the life of them, the person couldn’t remember how the dream ended. It ended like this thought Olivia, being forgotten and left to the elements. Her father, whose blind optimism scared Olivia at times, looked at the hotel like he’d found a treasure of gold hidden under the floorboards. In reality, Olivia saw nothing but decay and wanted to cover the floorboards over, light a match and never look back. Looking forward, her father had bought the hotel from a realtor who rushed the papers as soon as her father expressed interest in the property.
By Kirsten Blyton5 years ago in Fiction
Thaw
Jack stood and turned towards his closet. His dorm room, so graciously provided by Pen State was no bigger than a jail cell and at times it even managed to achieve a jail cell’s cold lonely atmosphere as well. Stepping in front of his full length mirror, another amenity courtesy of Pen, he traced his fingers over the bumps and scratches from decades of use before settling his eyes on his own reflection. Brown eyes stared back at him haloed in olive skin and sunken behind brown hair that had fallen in front of them. His thin frame adjusted in the mirror and following as he reached for the door handle and pulled it open. Inside rested a backpack filled to the brim with clothing, canned food, and other assorted survival equipment.
By Nick Russell5 years ago in Fiction
The Song of the Thaw
If one had never spent time near a frozen lake, they’d be astonished by the cornucopia of sounds that emanated from such a body. People called it singing: the trills, chirps, and pings that resounded across the ice. Every tiny crack and minute shift was a note in an exotic chorus that was not to be heard anywhere else.
By Micah Delhauer5 years ago in Fiction
