Horror
Catori
Julie and Stephen drove down the dirt road off of the 93 towards a shabby old gas station. As they approached the building they saw how dilapidated the place really was, and were surprised to see a car parked in the back and the front door to the building propped open.
By Jennifer E Baker5 years ago in Fiction
The Voice on the Intercom
The buzzing that dragged Mark from sleep was loud and insistent, like an insect flying around far too close to his ear. The noise came in pulses, punctuated by silences that grew fewer and briefer the longer he lay there letting sleep fall away from him.
By Sean Fenlon5 years ago in Fiction
Silent Screams of the Sea
The ping of the sonar ringed rhythmically. “Still working. We got maybe another hour before we meet any anomalous stuff anyway.” Captain Daniels shouted over the radio. I don’t know why he was shouting other than pure habit from sailing in the storms and needing to be heard.
By Unabated Lemon5 years ago in Fiction
The Birth of My Death
I was on a bus , on a warm Saturday. I was with my aunt and my grandma. I was going to dance rehearsals and I was to meet them at noon so we could eat at the mall. Most Saturdays were like this. And I loved it. So, I got off the bus, kissed them goodbye. And that was the last time they seen that version of me . I went to dance class. One of the last moments I felt like I was something special for a very long time . I danced and I loved it as if it loved me too . When rehearsals were over ,I was excited to go eat and spend time with my family. I was a pretty happy girl. I had a great family and I was in love with one of the greatest song writers of all time. I just knew that one day he would write a song about me and he would watch me dance. Only, that girl didn't make it. That girl, with her big heart and her ridiculous confidence stepped out into the real world and it ate her up. With my cd Walkman playing the love of my life's music, I got stopped while getting ready to cross the street. I stopped the music. A man in a black BMW and a grey suit stopped me, talking and waving for me to come nearer. I wasn’t sure though so he pulled over into a parking spot .He was handsome. I was about to turn 16 but I was still very shy when it came to the opposite sex . I remember looking down at the cobblestone pavement I was standing on. He kept talking and I realized he was asking for help. Directions to a grocery store. I was terrible at directions . Still am to this day. I knew where one was but I didn't know how to tell him to get there. There was another man and a woman in the back. They were from out of town the driver explained. He invited me into the car and if I could just show him where to drop his friend off, he'd bring me right back. Please stop screaming “ no” to me, it isn't any use. I was very naïve and I'm screaming “no” inside my head as I am rereading this.
By Layla Nelson5 years ago in Fiction
What Lies Within
The house sat silent in the dusk light, the hot day now having fizzled to a dark orange hew in the night sky and darkening into a deep purple along the horizon. The house was baron and deserted, its windows long since shattered and its roof sagging with decay and rot.
By Sam Averre 5 years ago in Fiction
Propellor
"May we play outside, Father?" Alwyn looked at Robert, his brother, his twin, exactly alike. Same hair, same clothes, same conspiratorial smile. The only difference was, one held the toy aeroplane with its wide wings and red propeller. Which one? They'd never tell.
By C S Hughes5 years ago in Fiction
Unbidden
February 29th, 2021, The black book in possession, in the brown parchment box, was bequeathed to Mary; Last Will and Testament of an estranged great uncle. Days earlier she'd been ignorant about any surviving family members, both parents having died before she had been born. Raised in a rural orphanage, the only real family Mary ever knew was her fiancé, Dimitri. Together, they coasted to a stop up the drive of the isolated, seaside mansion.
By James B. William R. Lawrence5 years ago in Fiction
My First Encounter with a ghost
Do You Believe In Ghosts? No, I Don't! Yes, I Do! No, I Don't! Yes, I Do? They Don't Even Exist Yet, They Do Exist! this was the conversation that was going through between two people when I entered a saloon, it was a wonderful Sunday evening, the weather was just awesome, the sun was sinking slowly and slowly in the sky leaving a beautiful tint of orange, the sky was looking just like a perfect painting created by an artist. it was just a normal Sunday evening for me when I went for a regular haircut to the saloon. but I never knew this was not an ordinary Sunday for me.
By Brandsandu5 years ago in Fiction
The Box
Pan was a little quiet. She mostly kept to herself. Although we were best friends she still was very quiet around me. When she did talk it was always very intelligent and specific. She liked to talk about psychology and why a person turns out a certain way. She would come over to my house and we would watch psychological thrillers and crime and serial killer documentaries. I never was a big fan, but I like how she always had a spin on the killer's life. “He is like this because he was neglected by his mother. Instead she chose abusive men over him, so he hated women and emulated the men his mother dated behaviors.” She explained to me after watching a serial killer documentary. She always seemed like she felt worse for the serial killers than their victims.Most of the time the serial killers had horrible lives growing up, filled with abuse and neglect. Pan could relate all too well. I had been to her house one time and her Mom said I could stay, but only for a short time. When I went into her room she didn’t have much of anything in it. It was a sad and bare looking room. We just sat at the edge of her bed and talked about life. As I swung my legs back and forth at the edge of the bed, I hit something under the bed. I jumped down and looked and there was a brown paper box. I slid it out and Pan jumped to her feet and grabbed me. Never touch the box and never open it, she warned. That was the most defensive I had ever seen her. She was always bullied and never stood up for herself, no matter what the kids did. We sat back in silence for a little while before I heard the front door slam.
By Tasha Matthew5 years ago in Fiction
