Something nasty in the shed
microfiction- what is your fear telling you
The door creaks--no!, it screams for me to run. But I bravely stay. I pull the string dangling from the ceiling, and hear the ratcheting. But the lightbulb doesn't glow. In the darkness, nothing seems to be where it should be. I step inside. Floorboards groan. Behind me, the weight of the door closes itself. It's dark. A sigh is heard. But not from my breath. I lunge backwards for the door. A scream is heard, but it's not the door's.
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More stories from Julia Sinton and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Out of sight
Hiden. I'm hiden. And there's intimacy in watching them. I practically salivate at the sight and thought of it. The giddiness unfurls its tendrils over my body and mind. I steady my hand. The camera clicks and the shutter whirls. "Just a few more, before I'm seen." I think to myself. "Then, I'll slip away." Like a voyeur or stalker, I marvel at the mating dance of the puffin.
By Julia Sinton3 years ago in Fiction
Wake Up
Today is December 4th, the year 2006 I am parked on the covered bridge. It’s nighttime, the bridge lights are out. My car lights fail to come on. In the blackness, I can barely see. Only a few feet ahead and behind. Billie Holiday’s voice crackles through the radio.
By Bride of Sound4 days ago in Fiction
Self Help: Grifters' Gospel
On Self-Help, Snake Oil, and the Illusion of Change Psychology professionals and students can be imagined on two opposite sides of a line called self-help books: likely a larger group opposes pop-science and step-by-step manuals filled with talk of success, journaling, and not giving a f**k; others love them, but they aren’t many.
By Avocado Nunzella BSc (Psych) -- M.A.P 6 days ago in BookClub
Comments (1)
Nice one❤️💯😉