Horror

Stuck in Pine Hills
Stuck In Pine Hills Nothing can quite compare to the sensation of being strapped to a spinning car with zero control of your steering, brakes, or bladder. I threw my hands in the air and prayed, Carrie Underwood style, and braced myself for the end.
By Ruth Teets5 years ago in Fiction
Sanctuary
Our car slowly drives down the curvy road through the forest. The trees menacingly tilt inwards towards one another trying to block out the sun. We continue driving down the road, I can see that mom and Sam are talking to one another. I can’t make out anything as my music is blasting in my ears, trying to make the outside world go away.
By Aiden Klimov5 years ago in Fiction
The scar
He ran his fingers through his grey beard as he released a long-drawn sigh and opened his eyes to reveal the milky white pigment they held. The little girl speaking with him let out a slight gasp of shock that quickly turned to an obvious fascination with her subsequent exhale. The man let out a chuckle before he removed his hand from his beard, raised the sunglasses in question, and answered “That, that is why I am wearing these sunglasses indoors little lady.” He paused to give her a moment to absorb the information before he continued, “You see, I am blind. My vision failed me quite some years ago...a little too late if you ask me but that is up for debate.” His voice was gravely, deep, and felt as though it was housing some great pain, which of course it was. “Now, do you have any other questions you’d like to ask me? And before you do, know there is no great story on how I became blind. It just happened over time until one day, I couldn’t see anymore.” He replaced the glasses onto his face before reaching into the breast pocket of his tattered flannel shirt and removing a pack of cigarettes as well as a book of matches.
By Drake Myers5 years ago in Fiction
A Floral Streaked Room
Danny Simmons sat on the porcelain throne, his hands twisted with excitement as he fiddled with a metal cylinder. He’d been hiding in the bathroom for nearly an hour, but in all truth, he’d been done ten minutes into his trip. The cool blue tiles chilled his bare feet as he gazed around his only sanctuary from the perils outside. He couldn’t think of anything he hated more than his nana’s house.
By John Oakes5 years ago in Fiction
An Offering of Cake
My era, an era of strict manners and suppression, was coming to an end. The new era, an era of industry and change, was peeking around the corner. Taking a glance out the window, I felt an urge to belong to this new era. If it were not for my developing illness, I’d have spent more time among today’s youth. My long black cotton dress was tighter than I’d been accustomed to. It’s white and black frills trailed down the front and met in a v just before my waist. If I’d had the privilege to visit these growing factories, or modern mansions, I’d be more prepared for the events of this night. At least, I’d managed to enjoy a posh life among those who believe everything must be earned through harsh labor.
By Meredith Lawless5 years ago in Fiction
Galudnee's Light
Galudnee’s Light The champagne bubbles have a different kinda pop to them tonight. It’s the same Defusco’s and the same veal parmesan cannelloni but tonight everything is different. Shelby’s green eyes stare at me beneath the candlelight awaiting the big news she has been anticipating all day. Her acrylic filled nails merge into my palms and time has finally come to share the news I’ve been holding all day.
By Kenneth Boutte5 years ago in Fiction
Lest it Comes True.
Johnny had been scolded mercilessly by his father earlier in the evening for not obeying the house rules. The last thing Johnny did before lulling off to sleep was gently whisper to no-one in particular, “I wish I lived in a house with no rules”. And off he dozed. Johnny quickly fell into a deep but very restless sleep, he tossed and turned, restlessly, like a deep weight of burden was disturbing his usually peaceful sleep routine. Unbeknownst to Johnny, he kept on mumbling in his sleep, “I wish I lived in a house with no rules; I wish I lived in a house with no rules” over and over again.
By Jarrod wolhuter5 years ago in Fiction
THE DEVIL'S HUTCH
THE DEVIL'S HATCH Evil comes alive at night. I moved from the big city to an outback tiny village, never really thinking about the culture change. For starters people in the village were not that friendly or helpful so I put it down to being wary of strangers. I sort of had this mind set that small country places were community minded and welcoming. I couldn't have been more wrong.
By Marilee Burtt5 years ago in Fiction
Best Friends Forever
The small fingerprint on the chocolate cake's icing was unmistakable. Someone had stuck a finger in the icing and taken a big swipe. The missing icing was nowhere to be found. There was no one in the apartment but Sugar. Sugar smiled at the chocolate cake. She knew who had stuck a finger in the cake.
By Toni Crowe5 years ago in Fiction
I Like Hunting Monsters
This cake is delicious! Thank you! Really, I mean it. Thank you! Nothing like a good slice of chocolate cake after biking…what was it, ten, eleven-ish miles. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Ah…yes, about that. I promised to tell you why I was out so late on the highway. Well, it’s kind of a long story. Yeah, I know, what a cliché beginning but it’s the truth. Good thing we have time while that waitress goes to get the sheriff. Weird business it is with the phones not working. First your cell, then the cells of everyone here and now the landline at this diner. Real weird.
By Jasmene M. Ramirez 5 years ago in Fiction
Do The Right Thing
Things in her life were going wrong. Her air conditioning broke. When the landlord fixed it, the air conditioner broke again. When the landlord replaced the air conditioner, and the new unit broke, he told her she would need to live with it for a while until he figured it out. Something must be wrong with the power of the unit. Tasha hated being hot, but here she was, dripping sweat. She had a bit of a headache. The voice in her head was louder: “Do the right thing.”
By Toni Crowe5 years ago in Fiction
Red Streaks
Three men are sitting at a table. It’s a gloomy night, threads of lightning are shooting across the sky through the clouds and connecting like spiderwebs, but there is not thunderclap that follows. Instead, the silence lingers like a bad taste in someone’s mouth. The man on the southern end of the table would compare it to dead fish, a commodity where he comes from, yet he doesn’t understand why the hell that is. It’s a place that makes people look at him in the same way somebody would look at a middle-eastern man who runs a convenience store, like they’re all the same and the TV shows they’d gallivant around once their small tinfoil TV dinners were placed out were as accurate as William Tell. Dumb grins on their faces, ignorant to what people like the southern man really were. There’d be no point in arguing, even with the other two men on opposing sides of the wicker/pine table, a single .45 in the middle, picking up as much of the lightning as it wants, and shooting it back to them like a gun is supposed to do. Light flashes, and then it doesn’t.
By Madonna Jinx Fitzroy Major5 years ago in Fiction