Thriller
Neverchangeable | Chapter 2
<< Click to read from the beginning (Chapter 0) < Click to read Chapter 1 I look to you, slumped in the corner, as if awaiting your approval. My one remaining eye has adjusted more now. I can see more than just your rubbery skin, neon with death in front of me, and the single, shiny eye of the camera. I can make out the moose head I know is there, the overstuffed loveseat, the long, leather sofa under Auntie Rachel’s watercolour paintings. The ones she made when she got brain cancer. I can see the radiation on those paintings, green and luminescent, sparkling like the snowy landscapes they depict. The radiation poured from her pupils as she transferred the images from her mind to the coarse paper. Snowy hills, like clean, fresh starts, the radiation underneath only visible to me. Like two weeks from now, when the tourism season will officially be over, when winter will come, and here you and I will be. The two of us, alone, at last. Like it should have always been.
By sleepy draftsabout a year ago in Chapters
Neverchangeable | Chapter 1
< Click to read Chapter 0 Farley won't stop fucking around with his hunting knife. The sound sets my teeth on edge. The bridge has transformed over the two years since I sold it, most of the change happening within the last one. The limestone has been reinforced, no longer crumbling at random intervals, and signs have been put up at both ends with detailed directions on how to get through the forest safely and with ease. Different trails are marked with either green, orange, or red lines to allow tourists to select their difficulty. None of the trails are truly difficult anymore, though. None, except the unmarked ones. Farley’s face twists in disdain when he sees the sign, wide and dummy-proof.
By sleepy draftsabout a year ago in Chapters
Neverchangeable | Chapter 0
I smile up at the camera. A past version of me, a ghost version, sits hunched over a laptop in a dark room and watches the grainy, bluelight images move across his screen. I picture being that other version of me right now, the one that doesn’t exist, staring blankly, hungrily at the scene. Finally, I hear him think, something different. He hasn’t realized it’s us yet – me, him – and so he laps up the image. Two slumped over figures, one barely human anymore, the other a black-and-white night vision phantom of a man, smiling at the camera. His one eye glows, a white ring of two-dimensional fire that burns into the lens. The other eye is a wet slit, open, gooey, dripping, the membrane now a soft, stretched sock drooping over the eyelid, the kind of sock Farley and I used to hit each other with, with tennis balls dropped down in to the toes, the kind you used to hate. I shudder, look sideways with my one eye at the barely human figure slumped beside me, at once the man in the night vision scene again. You would not have approved of this. Not one bit. I look back at the camera, attached to the nose of the moose Farley had killed when we were fourteen, the camera I put up after Dad died. You would have been mortified. Would have called me indecent. I would have told you, it’s called being smart. You and I both know, you would have seen through that.
By sleepy draftsabout a year ago in Chapters
Glass Winter | Ch. II
Sevt heard a stream in his sleep. He smelled grass. The trees rustled. A memory came into focus of a long log cabin against a verdant drape from somewhere high above, its door opening onto a small clearing and its creek. Birds flew overhead with their song, and a golden-haired woman watched the water. A child in her arms shared her blue eyes.
By Andrei Babaninabout a year ago in Chapters
Incredibooks: Pretty Monster
When your bookworm of a best friend drops a second novel about an unhinged stalker in your hands you have no choice but to read it for your own interest. This story titled “Pretty Monster” by author Sheridan Anne was an absolutely twisted thrill ride of stalking, obsession, seduction and deception.
By Joe Pattersonabout a year ago in Chapters
GRAVITY OF ALANA. AI-Generated.
CHAPTER ONE I jolted awake to the blaring sound of my alarm, my body protesting as if I’d only just closed my eyes. Blinking against the faint morning light, I took in the familiar yet still strange surroundings. This place didn’t quite feel like home yet. Groaning, I buried my head under the pillow, clinging to the last scraps of sleep. After a few moments, I forced myself to sit up, rubbing the haze from my eyes, and dragged my feet across the cool wooden floor toward the bathroom.
By Susan Mwangi607about a year ago in Chapters
