Horror

The Vulture
Maria stands in line next to her mother. Both are as disheveled looking as the rest within the small refuge. Countless days of filth coat their skin and tattered clothes. Hunger fills the being of every person standing in the food line. She is one of the unlucky children who are unfortunate enough to remember the old world. Now in her seventeenth year, not a day has passed that has not been filled with its memory.
By Aron Evans5 years ago in Fiction
The Haze Pt. 1
The horrible screeching of metal-on-metal rang throughout the alleyway like the scream of an angry beast as an old, steel door was pushed open, grinding harshly against a piece of sheet metal beneath it. Nathan slipped out once the gap was wide enough for him to pass through, and he twisted about to shut it back without a second thought. Reaching up, he wiped the condensation away from the lenses of his gas mask as the change in atmosphere set in. Making sure the filter was secure, his head dipped into an affirming nod at himself before pulling his gaze up from the brick wall ahead of him, the six-foot-three figure of Nathan Barnes stalked on, out towards the street.
By Trey Dickey5 years ago in Fiction
CLEAR KEEP
There’s nobody left and there’s somebody watching me. I’ve got a heart shaped locket with a picture of the only woman I ever loved. The world is damned and everyone died. I am the last one left. I talk about the world as I talk about anything. The way a man who’s falling down a bottomless pit talks about how he’ll be fine. The world never gave me anything. All the world did was kill itself and left me to deal with the mess.
By Matt Low5 years ago in Fiction
Broken Clouds
They checked in at the rental office in the main cabin. Once inside, they saw one couple checking in before them. The woman's boonies hat tilted toward the older man. She looked fit in her white halter top, and a sarong wrapped around her hips over her bathing suit. Her toes, encased in sandals, flexed on the cherry wood floor. The older gentleman wore a black T-shirt, camouflage cargo shorts, and leather shoes with white ankle socks was with her. Both carried bright fishing gears. The spinners weighed down the net webbings on the man’s pants. They both boarded the Perpetual, a flatboat with an engine powered by water jets from the lake itself. It peeled away with a quiet roar, the gentleman bent over the steering handle as if he was a fighter jet pilot.
By Patrick T. Kilgallon5 years ago in Fiction
WYRM
That which was the wyrm did not arrive, it appeared. And there have been many like it, in myth. Serpents which tempted and serpents which coiled about the world. Lesser dragons cursed from the skies to vacillate in poison. Prismatic dwellers of the waterhole and destined devoured.
By John C Carpin5 years ago in Fiction
Aftermath
“I always knew it was a bad idea.” The young man was a nervous wreck. A quivering lip that hid behind a prematurely grizzled beard. Eyes that feverishly scanned the room, and yet focused on nothing. The only part of the young man’s restless body that remained still was his left leg, which he kept fully outstretched, motionless like stone.
By Tom Rood5 years ago in Fiction
Jenny's Hijacked Mind
The landscape around her is bleached red as if it is flooded with an unending ruddy light. The dirt under her sneakers is gritty and dry, and when she shuffles her feet curiously the dust rises in slow moving plumes. Jenny blinks and shakes her head, confused and terribly disoriented. What was only a moment ago she had been standing before her great aunt's grave, staring at the newly lowered casket. Her oldest female relative lowered into the cold ground. The cemetery however is long gone replaced by a sparse, alien world.
By Ellen Kropp5 years ago in Fiction
The sky brought our demise
Almost a year since the incident. Even now I still don’t know how to process any of this. The world has gone to hell and feels like I'm stuck in the passenger seat watching everything get worse, with every immoral action that takes place. I still remember the day this happened, when the world turned into a cesspool of unimaginable horrors. It was october 28th, 2024, I remember that day well. It was a cool autumn day with the wind blowing ever so softly through my hair, the grill smoking up the sky while the burgers were almost done. Then there she was, her long auburn hair flowing through the wind and those hazel eyes that could make my heart skip a beat. She was my lovely wife, the woman I dedicated my entire life to. I miss her everyday but I guess in a way she doesn’t have to see what this world has become and how worse it's gotten and I am grateful for that.
By C. Gray5 years ago in Fiction
Last Entry
My name is Sabrina. I am a writer from Madison, Georgia. This is my journal. Entry one; The Beginning of The End: It has been eleven months since patient zero walked into a Savannah, Georgia hospital with an unknown illness. Patient zero presented with a high fever, lesions on his skin, and bouts of anger. As soon as the story hit the news, the internet went wild of stories of the impending zombie apocalypse. The doctors and nurses tried to sedate the guy so he could be treated and they can try to find out what was causing the illness. Any sedation medication they gave didn’t work. He practically destroyed his room during his freak out. Not only did he do thousands of dollars in damage to the hospital emergency department, but he injured multiple hospital staff by hitting, scratching, and biting them. The story turns even more tragic when the police were actually called in to deal with this, now psych patient because nothing the doctors were doing was helping. The police shot and killed him when the patient tried to attack the police officer sent in to help. Turns out the dude was a druggie and did high quantities of bath salts.
By Bethani Sparvel5 years ago in Fiction
Shadows in the Wind
The night my father buried me, he told me, “I have to.” He didn’t cry. He didn’t smile. He didn’t bother to look my way as he wrapped spools of rope around my waist and shoulders. I closed my eyes and nodded. I understood. We’ve been here before with mom, and my brother along with his seven-year-old son. The two were buried with their arms wrapped in a hug and their hearts thumping against each other. It was the last sound they’d share as my brother whispered into his son’s ear and said, “This is our Forever Song; it’ll play on and on, and on, long after we are gone.”
By Victoria Renee5 years ago in Fiction
There are Still Parrots in Pasadena
The first thing K learned about magpies was that they were known for brutally killing small songbirds and their young. Magpies tore apart nests and destroyed eggs, often eating the young and smaller parent birds in the process. Because of this and more, they earned a reputation for being the menace of the bird world. They were considered the meanest of all the corvids yet also one of the smartest, which in turn probably inspired much of their said meanness. Someone once told K that intelligence breeds meanness. She told them that she had heard the same said about stupidity. In the end, intellect doesn’t matter. Sharp or dull, it’s still people who breed the worst kinds of meanness.
By Joseph Klammer5 years ago in Fiction
Room 408
Room 408 Mark D. Makinson The rain lightly pattered on the metal roof of the shelter. Gabriel sat on a rusted picnic table, looking out into the playground. The playground that once was a beacon of joy for so many children had now returned to nature. The slide that once shined brightly as the centerpiece of the yard was beginning to deteriorate from rust. The swings that once guided gleeful children towards heaven were now broken or hanging on by solitary chains. Gabriel looked past the playground into the crumbling skyline of the city, his city. Gabriel had not laid eyes on his home in more than four years.
By Mark D Makinson5 years ago in Fiction