Horror
Not There. Content Warning.
He always touched me like he was checking I was still there. Not urgently. Not roughly. Just a hand on my wrist, my shoulder, the small of my back when we moved through rooms together. A habit I learned to expect before I learned to question. I told myself it was affection, that he needed closeness the way some people need reassurance. I never pulled away. I didn’t want him to think I could disappear again.
By Courtney Jonesabout a month ago in Fiction
Heavely Seas Chapter 17
There had to be a way for the curse to end. Elodie’s worst fears had been realised. The secrets that had devoured her for years were about to be exposed. The golden vacation was a nightmare beyond imagination. Her chest ached. Her muscles clenched.
By Chloe Gilholyabout a month ago in Fiction
The Devil Gets What He Wanted
“Hello Old Scratch. My name is Glabon. I assume you know why I am here?” “Of course, Glabon, as you no doubt know, I know many things, most in fact.” “Well, despite that I am required by my superiors to inform you of my intentions in any case.” “And, you always do what you are told don’t you my friend Glabon?” “Of course, and I am not your friend, nor are you anyone’s friend, but that matters not for purposes of this discussion.” “No need to hurl insults, it was only a figure of speech. I would suggest you lighten up, but I assume your superiors would find that objectionable, and my guess is you are not capable of it. Do you ever even smile Glabon? Or laugh? No, I presume not.” “Mr. Scratch I am not here for banter or games, I am here for your interview. As you know a select group has been commissioned to write your biography for the historical record.”
By Everyday Junglistabout a month ago in Fiction
*#The Split#* Thursday, December 21, 2012
It was the day before court and this was supposed to be a quick and easy custody battle. Toby’s mother was hardly putting up a fight. With all the evidence she had practically handed him, and now Timmy breaks his arms sledding the day before court.
By Anton Mathias Heft about a month ago in Fiction
Wednesday, October 24th, 2012
The courtroom in Kenosha County was brightly lit through the large row of windows along the Southern wall of the building. The antique wooden pews, wooden wall paneling and trim were all faded from many years of use. There was a musty smell that reminded Anton of the loft in his biological father’s garage, were he kept his stash of PlayBoy magazines. Unfortunately, that peaceful familiar aroma was being overpowered by the stench of body odor and weed radiating from the younger guy about ten feet away.
By Anton Mathias Heft about a month ago in Fiction
Tuesday, October 9th, 2012
“May I speak to Anton Heft, please,” requested the professional voice over the phone. Anton was finishing up another roof for Steve when the phone rang. He was in a filthy pair of ripped-up blue jeans that looked as though they’d been through several years worth of roof jobs. His filthy tank top was rolled and tied around his forehead like Jim McMahon’s headband. The combination of the dirt, humidity and roof tar smeared various shades of black and gray all over his body and clothes.
By Anton Mathias Heft about a month ago in Fiction
