Horror
What are we doing here?. Content Warning.
"Will you just talk to me?" Mark begged, as his ceiling fan completed lazy, insistent revolutions. He watched as a fly— he couldn’t say when it had arrived— performed small frantic circles in the air before settling on the nightstand beside him. It groomed its front legs. Such fastidiousness in something so fundamentally unclean.
By Sandor Szabo20 days ago in Fiction
Beat 'Em Then Join 'Em, Friday, September 21st, 2012
“Boy! Front and center,” Anton shouted like a drill sergeant. Toby sat in the warm living room watching The Backyardigans for what must have been the 100th time when he heard his father calling him. With no cable and only three VHS tapes, what other options did he really have? His play station was broken by his mom’s new neighbor friend when they were arguing.
By Anton Mathias Heft 20 days ago in Fiction
Nightmare On Pennywise St, (Present Day) September, 2021 (Fiction)
The next morning, Toby awoke to the obnoxious buzz of an alarm blaring for what seemed like an eternity. The air reeked of stale cat urine and dirty laundry. Sesame Street played on the television in the next room, with the volume so high it seemed as though Elmo was sitting right next to Toby, yelling.
By Anton Mathias Heft 20 days ago in Fiction
The Confrontation, Saturday, September 24th, 2011
“Toby’s dad is ‘it’,” called one of the neighborhood boys at the park. Anton was enjoying his weekly Saturday game of tag with Toby and the neighborhood kids at the local park. The park’s large, grassy area was rarely mowed and riddled with weeds. Random garbage and the occasional pile of dog feces dotted the landscape. In the center of the park was a circular area of old, red mulch with a rust, brown jungle gym in its center. On the side adjacent from each other were two equally deteriorated, brown swing sets. The children used one of the swing sets, while the other set only had one swing left. That individual swing was used by the local drug dealer as a one stop shop for a variety of illegal drugs. He monopolized that spot for a majority of each day.
By Anton Mathias Heft 20 days ago in Fiction
G.I. Joe's Last Stand, Saturday, December 25th, 2010
This was Toby’s best Christmas ever!! He woke up to a mountain of presents, even ones he hadn’t dared ask Santa for. A brand new Playstation 2 sat amid the chaos along with two amazing new games: an adventurous SpongeBob game and Spyro the Dragon. There was also a football, a blue and orange frisbee, a fresh pair of shoes, a stack of new clothes, and not one but two big stockings overflowing with sweetness and joy.
By Anton Mathias Heft 20 days ago in Fiction
The Inferno Elixir: A Legacy of Blood
1. The Sinister Stillness of the Village My grandfather had always been an enigmatic man, but in the last three years, his eccentricity had crossed into something far more unsettling. He lived alone in a secluded house far from the city’s clamor, tucked away in a village perpetually choked by mist. We assumed he was merely grieving the loss of my grandmother and his lifelong friend, but his gaze hid something deeper than sorrow—a secret that was slowly devouring his soul. During my last visit, I was struck by the sight of his refrigerator; it was grotesquely overstuffed with heaps of raw meat. He claimed with a cold detachment that it was for the poor, but his face betrayed the lie. Even more disturbing was the reinforced steel door he had installed in the basement, from which a foul stench seeped through the cracks—a smell like a carcass that refused to stay buried. 2. A Descent into the Abyss Late that night, I took advantage of my grandfather’s heavy sleep. With trembling fingers, I pilfered a modern, sophisticated key from his cabinet. I descended the decaying stairs into the basement, my flashlight cutting through the oppressive gloom. The air there didn't just smell of rot; it smelled like a slaughterhouse. Dry bloodstains smeared the walls, and in the corners lay bleached-white human skeletons. I approached the reinforced room and peered through a tiny peephole. The blood froze in my veins. A gaunt creature, its bones protruding obscenely from its skin, stood there. Its hair was so long it trailed behind it like a shroud. It moved on all fours with a demonic fluidity. Suddenly, its eyes—completely white—locked onto the hole. It wasn't looking at me; it was scenting me. 3. The Bitter Truth Before I could flee, I felt the sharp sting of a needle in my neck. The world dissolved into darkness. I awoke inside a hermetically sealed glass chamber. My grandfather stood on the other side of the glass, weeping bitterly as he recounted the catastrophe: > "Three years ago, your grandmother was on the brink of death. A stranger with non-human features knocked on my door and gave me a dark red elixir, claiming it was the salvation. I injected her, but she transformed into this ravenous monster. I killed my oldest friend and fed him to her just to protect her secret. I love her, Alex, and I cannot let you leave to expose the truth of her 'death' to the world." > 4. The Banquet of Blood The glass barrier began to rise slowly, and the monstrosity crouched, ready to pounce. Suddenly, a scream pierced the silence. My younger brother, Thomas, had followed me. With a heavy blow from a sharp tool, he struck our grandfather, sending him sprawling into the room. In a moment of primal madness, the creature lunged at my grandfather, tearing into his flesh with unspeakable ferocity. Thomas and I fled, the screams echoing behind us, until the police arrived and ended the nightmare with a hail of bullets into the body of what was once my grandmother. 5. The Vicious Cycle A year has passed since that night, and I thought I had survived. But fate plays a cruel game. It is now the anniversary of my grandfather’s death, and my brother Thomas is wasting away from a rare, terminal illness. Last night, amidst the darkness, a stranger knocked on my door—matching the exact description my grandfather once gave. He placed a small box in my hand containing a vial of dark red liquid and hissed into my ear: "This is the only cure for your brother." The stranger vanished as if he never existed. I analyzed the liquid in a lab, and the results were bone-chilling: "A substance extracted from an unknown biological entity, non-existent in any natural record." I hold the vial in my hand now, looking at my pale brother, hearing the echo of my grandfather’s voice in my head. Do I repeat the tragedy? Do I begin a new massacre in the name of love? The elixir is before me, and hell is waiting just behind the door. Would you like me to create a "Book Cover" style description for this story, or perhaps suggest a sequel?
By Mayar Younes21 days ago in Fiction
The Ancient Egyptian Goddess Ammit. Content Warning.
In Egyptian mythology the ‘Hall of Ma'at’ is a forsaken place, dark and unforgiving. The rite of passage to immortality of one’s soul hangs in the balance. A ceremony named quite appropriately as the “Weighing of the Heart” has two potential outcomes, a pathway to eternity for the pure of heart, the other a dark voyage into everlasting agony and condemnation.
By Michael Langille21 days ago in Fiction
The Echo of Water: Washing Away the Scent of Fear
1. A Haunting Nocturnal Ritual For John, his marriage to Mia was supposed to be a sanctuary of peace after years of solitude. Mia was like a figurine of fine crystal; delicate in her movements, soft-spoken, and always trailing a faint scent of hibiscus and vanilla. Yet, beneath this serene surface lay a disturbing nocturnal ritual: twice every night, before retiring to bed, Mia would bathe. It was a rigorous, almost sacred routine that never faltered, regardless of the circumstances. John, a designer with a keen eye for detail, would watch her slip into bed with her back turned to him, whispering a faint "Goodnight" before sinking into a sleep that resembled an escape. He initially dismissed it as a fastidious obsession with cleanliness, never realizing that the water wasn’t for hygiene—it was a desperate attempt to wash away a "memory" that refused to die.
By Mayar Younes21 days ago in Fiction
Creatures of the Night. Content Warning.
~~August~~ Technicolor lights flash and pulse in accordance to the rumbling bass thumping from the towering speakers across the dark room. Bodies pack the central space upon a raised floor built from illuminating panels like sardines, bumping and grinding against one another like headless chickens. Light scatters through the club, reflecting off of the mirror ball that dangles from the ceiling. The lights become diffused by the faint sheen of smoke that floats through the room, spat out by the machines hidden in the DJ’s booth and the walls like a victim of Poe. The thick taste of sweat and revelry swims through the air, tinged with mixed drinks and bad decisions.
By Aidan O'Kane21 days ago in Fiction
