Horror
The Last Sunrise
The town of Red Hollow had long since abandoned the joy of Easter. What had once been a celebration of spring and renewal had turned into a time of terror. Every year, as Easter morning dawned, the sun would rise blood-red, bathing the land in its eerie glow.
By V-Ink Stories18 days ago in Fiction
The Room She Built Him
Configuration Log: Initial Architecture Created by: [ADMIN] Date: March 3, 2022 Project name: For You She designed the space on a Sunday. Soft gray background—not clinical, not cold, but neutral enough to hold anything. A single text field, expandable. No character limit. She considered adding a "send" button but removed it. There was nowhere to send anything. There was only the field, and the archive below it, and the date stamps that would accumulate like rings in a tree.
By Destiny S. Harris18 days ago in Fiction
Part of Me. Runner-Up in Rituals of Affection Challenge.
My love and I have been trapped inside of our respective houses like rats in a cage ever since the start of the pandemic. An ocean separates us, but distance is no challenge to our love. Text messaging, email- these things are so impersonal and cold. She and I are old souls both, and prefer the method of the old-fashioned letter. It takes longer, but the heart grows fonder with delayed gratification, to put a new spin on an old, tired phrase. I've certainly found it true in any case.
By Raistlin Allen18 days ago in Fiction
The Thirteenth Bell
Valentine’s Day. Everywhere else I’ve lived, it’s been a flimsy holiday — flowers, chocolates, greeting cards, and a vague expectation that you should feel something sweet and sentimental. I’ve always thought it was one of the most worthless holidays on the calendar.
By Lizz Chambers18 days ago in Fiction
The Box
"I'm telling you, Man: it's real, and it's worth a fortune!" Duke had that look in his eyes again. Somewhere between a kid on Christmas morning, and a crackhead looking for his next fix. The last time Ronny had seen it, he spent two months in the hospital recovering from a weird, tropical fever nobody still could tell him the name of. The time before that, he'd spent three weeks rotting in a Mexican prison. Which he vowed never to speak of again.
By Natalie Gray19 days ago in Fiction
Love as Consumption
I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. That inevitable crush. I knew as soon as I walked through the door, we’d have words — stern, unproductive words. The atmosphere choked me, the scent of Bolognese burned into the bottom of the pan reminding me why it’s best I do the cooking, and of the air of unfiltered bitterness that had been present for years.
By Paul Stewart19 days ago in Fiction
Sage
I discovered Camden Town through my sister, Tasha, who moved there when she was twenty. She was studying art at some red brick university and the room she rented above a kebab shop doubled as a studio. To me, her work was just senseless globs of paint. I could never understand how a tutor could grade anything so abstract.
By Matthew Batham19 days ago in Fiction
