Horror
To Trust a Monster
I cannot feel the cold or heat, but snow is my favorite thing. It makes the world quiet and calm. Many of our predators are sleeping. People take shelter, and animals rest. I step outside barefoot and walk through the trees. I love the light crunch of snow beneath my steps. I dash to a clearing and begin to sway and dance. I turn on one leg with my arms as momentum.
By Jessica Mathews5 years ago in Fiction
Roots
Most families like ours burrow into the ground and stay there forever. Sometimes the older ones will reach up into the sunlight but only if the ground allows it. Our family, on the other hand, is made to live both on the surface and underground. We can also move of our own fruition by the light of the moon.
By Abby Draper5 years ago in Fiction
TCoE: Adara's Curse
Chapter One Love’s Rupture “Sometimes things that hurt you most teach you the best lessons of life!” - Unknown Inside the colossal sunlit corridors, two elegant folks stood akimbo before a stained glass window. The art on the pane resembled an angel reaching for handsome and arrogant mortal men; her eyes tear-filled as she desperately cried for them. The one person flanking the skylight, a scrawny man, pointed to it with an outraged glower. His bald head shined under the bright sun while his narrowed gray glare remained dark and grim. He wore a light blue toga and lightweight brown sandals.
By Mel E. Furnish5 years ago in Fiction
The Driver
I was sitting in a booth in the old Sanria Savings and Loan building when an angel walked in. My booth was in the corner, the only one in the place with a circular table, but I liked that I could keep my back to the wall and my eyes on the door. The venerable bank had a ceiling 24 feet high, with all of it's original molding still intact after over a century of mortgages, money orders and old ladies trading in their nickels and dimes. Now it was an abomination - transformed into one of these fucking trendy coffee houses with fifteen dollar salads choking with avocado. I only came here for the cheesecake and the chess.
By Michael Cabajar 5 years ago in Fiction
The Reckoning of Wolf Mine
Alice kneeled on the frozen pond, skin burning with cold. She wanted to move, but couldn’t. A face rose from the water beneath the ice, and pressed against it, eyes wide. The face was hers with slight variations. Its lips moved but Alice heard nothing. Neither could she hear herself scream as she began to pound her fists against the ice.
By Sam Eggertson5 years ago in Fiction
Forbidden Lights
Stereotypes say that children are starting to find themselves at fourteen, they’ve tanned, bruised and experienced the world with friends. There are however always outliers, for instance one ghost like child who hasn’t set foot outside the sterile floor he was brought to as a child. Gadget more frequently called Number-27 was raised in a sanatorium where even sunlight was never seen. When he wasn’t being groomed into a surgeon or perhaps a mad-scientist he was confined to a tiny cell, the room was padded in white, furnished with a simple cot that had thin blankets and a flat pillow, a small chest of drawers. A divider at the foot of the room concealed a makeshift washroom, making the room feel smaller and more uninviting.
By Crystal Ayers5 years ago in Fiction
Give me the Green Light
When you live in the heart of the city, one thing you learn about fast is to look both ways, before crossing the street. Twice. Now a days, folks will hit you with their ride, and not blink twice; pass right on by, like they didn't hear or see you. The pedestrian "used" to have the "right away". I even heard, that back in the day, people in cars actually paid attention to people walking.
By Adrianne Kirksey5 years ago in Fiction
The Last Door on the Left
Three days, I’ve been here for three days. At least I think it’s been three days. The two of them, one tall and bulky, the other shorter and athletic, bring me from my cell at the end of a long hall to the same room, my new vacation spot, every day. They beat and interrogate me all under a green light. The pain subsides faster than I’d suspect and then I feel so tired and fall asleep. I wake up in my cell to do it all again. They’ve done that three times, so it has to be three days. I haven’t given up a thing and I won’t. This room may become my tomb but I won’t tell them a thing. Their leaders want to know our number, our resources, and our allies. I can hold out for a while. Even if I start to break I have fake intel I can feed them to some time. Once they pursue it my people can change codenames, safehouses and passwords. The futility of my captors’ actions makes the pain bearable. Or maybe there’s something about that light… I must have taken a few too many blows to the head. Why I am thinking about that light? It hung above the table on a long cord, bathing the room in a wash of green. On the first day, the shorter one just kept slapping me on the right side of my face over and over while asking me questions. On the second day, I taunted the taller one. I don’t think he liked what I said because the next moment I was thrown into the air and my head hit the edge of the fixture. The green projection moved about the room, its shadows danced to my misery. On the third day, the two continued their interrogation and only struck me when I made a sly remark about their mothers. They even took a break after smacking me around. The pair ate a snack and began chatting with me sitting there, too tired to do much else other than fight to stay awake. The pair mentioned some special captives in another interrogation room right before I passed out. The last thing I saw was their blurred outline in a green haze. The beatings don’t hurt as much as I thought they would. The pain seems to fade more quickly than I’m used to. Maybe those two bastards are weaker than they look or maybe it’s that light.
By Kyle Ireland5 years ago in Fiction
Green Lights
Green lights were never good. Okay. That was a really broad generalization. If she were running late to work, then a green light was a good thing. And then, there was the aurora borealis. The green northern lights, those were neutral, at best--or at worst.
By Kimberly J Egan5 years ago in Fiction
