Archive for the ‘Scary Stories’ Category
The Card
Posted: February 6, 2014 in addiction, Childcare, Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Humor, kids, Parenting, Scary Stories, Sci-fi, self-esteem, Self-improvement, short stories, Suspense, Teens, Uncategorized, Women, writingTags: addiction, drugs, eerie, family, ghosts, hauntings, Horror, Life, Love, mystery, relationships, sci-fi, Short Stories, women, Writing
Night Visitor
Posted: November 13, 2013 in Childcare, Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, guns, Horror, kids, Motherhood, Parenting, Scary Stories, short stories, Suspense, Teens, Uncategorized, Women, writingTags: family, Fiction, ghosts, hauntings, Horror, Life, literature, mental illnes, mystery, Parenting, Prejudice, Short Stories, women, Writing
Crawling into bed, she pulled the covers tight and gazed out at the full moon that hung in the sky like a piece of frozen blue ice. The trees lining the walk were bare, but their icy branches sparkled and danced in the light as if they had been draped in diamonds. Tucking the blankets under her feet she poured a glass of wine, opened her book and sighed in comfort as the wind gently rattled the windows. She was in the middle of chapter four when the noise came. Soft at first, than loud and insistent. From a gentle knock on the door to a ruckus that threatened to tear door from frame! Then a moment of silence before it began again.
Rolling to her side she opened her night stand, secured her gun and sprung to her feet. She shivered from the cold, hesitating at the bedroom door as she struggled over the urge to hide or confront, especially after last time. Her mind returned to the past, the knocks, the screams, the gun going off in her hand. She had felt she was in danger, surely anyone could see that. Anyone finding someone yelling and beating in their door at one o’clock in the morning would feel threatened. She had opened the door, he made a move into the hall, his face shrouded by a hood and her hand reacted, the gun went off. The police came, the coroner removed the body, reporters plastered grainy pictures of her terrified face.
She was acquitted, how was she to know he hadn’t come to harm her? How was she to know he was a seventeen year old boy who’s car would die, leaving him on the streets and late for curfew? How was she to know a gang of thugs had chased him for his new shoes? How was she to know he saw her outside light and ran to her for help?
How was she to know he would return night after night to haunt her? How was she to know she would never find peace or redemption from her prejudice? Opening the door, she descended the stairs to face the hell she was to endure for eternity.
The Neighbor
Posted: August 30, 2013 in Family, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Horror, Scary Stories, Sci-fi, short stories, Suspense, Uncategorized, Women, writingTags: eerie, family, Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Horror, Life, literature, mental illnes, mystery, sci-fi, Short Stories, women, Writing
Flickering orange light and the roar of a train pulled her from her slumber. Sitting up, she gaped at the eerie glow dancing over her walls and sprung to her feet. She stared, watching in horror as flames engulfed the neighbor’s house. Flames crept through windows to crawl up the siding as Tim’s terrified face appeared in an upstairs window.
Grabbing the phone, she pushed 9 and 1, her fingers freezing before pressing the second 1. Her stomach turned as she remembered stumbling upon young Tim in the woods, years earlier. He hadn’t heard her approach and she hid behind a tree meaning to scare him. Instead, she watched in horror as he doused a puppy with lighter fluid and set him ablaze. The next summer he cornered her in the park, asking if she had “ever seen a match burn twice.” He ignited a match, blew it out held the hot tip on her arm. He did it twice more before she wiggled free and ran home. Her parents passed it off as kids being kids and warned her not to play with him again.
Over the years she had seen him hurt school mates and pets. His parents offered explanations for the untimely deaths of his pets and life went on. In the spring of 1998 his prom date ended up in the hospital. She claimed she was beaten, raped and left for dead on the tennis court. When questioned, by the police, Tim passed with flying colors. His date either didn’t remember, or was too afraid to name him. She moved away after graduation and never returned. He went out late at night, she had seen him, always dressed in black. The next day he could be found in his drive, detailing his car.
As she watched the house burn, her mind returned to 2001. It was a warm spring night when she saw Tim and a date arrive at his house. When the girl hesitated he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her into the garage, where her screaming stopped. She called 911, but a quick search of the house didn’t turn up a girl or anything else out-of-place. The police treated her like a nosy neighbor. She realized Tim had abandoned humanity, feelings. love, right and wrong years ago.
He was an animal, a predator who found joy in inflicting pain. How many died? How many more would die? Turning her back to the flames, she returned the phone to the charger, letting the flames make the final judgement.
Friday Fictioneers 8/16/13
Posted: August 15, 2013 in Childcare, Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Horror, kids, Parenting, Scary Stories, Suspense, Teens, Uncategorized, Women, writingTags: eerie, family, Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Horror, Life, literature, Love, Miracles, mystery, Parenting, relationships, Short Stories, teens, women, Writing
Submit a story or poem, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read submissions or add your work HERE. Comments welcome, as long as they are respectful and helpful, not hateful.
Category: Drama/Family
Words: 100
Rating: PG
“I hate you!” She shouted, following her dad down the stairs.
“Sorry to hear that, I love you!” He shouted back. “And you’re grounded, so stay home!”
“I wish you were dead!” she screamed from the porch as he opened the car door.
She barely registered the noise when it hit. The tornado snatched at random, a roof here, a house there. She died inside as she approached the car, fearing the worst. She was crying, tearing at the branches when she heard it.
“Down here Baby Girl, I’m o.k.”
She loved him.
Picture it & Write 7/13
Posted: July 14, 2013 in addiction, aging, Bi-Sexual, Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Horror, kids, Lesbian, Marriage, Motherhood, Parenting, Scary Stories, Sci-fi, self-esteem, Seniors, Suspense, Transgender, Uncategorized, Women, writingTags: aging, beliefs, eerie, family, health, Horror, insurance, laws, Life, literature, marriage, mental illnes, mystery, nature, Parenting, relationships, rights, sci-fi, Short Stories, women, Writing
Picture it & write it is a fun, flash fiction group that meets weekly. Read the stories or submit your own HERE.
2021 in the U.S.A. wasn’t pleasant. Special interest groups and big money had legislated the country into an unbearable stew pot of chaos.
Slang words, racially descriptive words, such as Caucasian or Latino were illegal. It was also illegal to possess soda, beer or liquor. A strict dress code was enforced and anyone caught frying food was jailed and subjected to rigorous dietary training. Persons caught smoking or using narcotics were put to death in public displays designed to set an example. Anyone caught in a relationship with a same-sex partner was castrated or mutilated in some way and sent to live in a desolate penal camp.
“Normal” couples wishing to have children underwent rigorous testing. Those found lacking were denied. If they committed a crime, had arthritis, asthma or were otherwise deemed unsuitable, they were denied. If they couldn’t maintain state health insurance they were denied. Abortion was illegal unless ordered by the state. If you were pregnant and didn’t pass state mandates, your pregnancy was terminated. Any child born with undetected illness was put down.
The obese were locked away until they reached normal levels. Once released they were re-checked, if they regained weight they were terminated. Senior citizens were put down at the first sign of illness.
A new revolution formed, no muskets, just the same desire for freedom. The first to fall were the insurance carriers who guided laws in the name of public health, while making millions. Next came the corrupt government. The movement could succeed, or they could die, but they had to try.
Alastair’s Photo Fiction 6/23
Posted: June 25, 2013 in Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, happiness, Humor, Marriage, Scary Stories, Self-improvement, short stories, Suspense, Uncategorized, Women, writingTags: family, Fiction, Humor, Life, literature, Love, marriage, mystery, nature, relationships, Short Stories, women, Writing
Alastair, a talented photographer and writer has started a new fiction group that meets weekly to pen 150 words based on a photo. Check out this weeks offering and submit one of your own HERE. You can also check out Alistair’s work at his blog.
Ominous clouds gathered as wind churned the water into a frenzy. He never anticipated this when he talked Marcie into whitewater rafting. He had risen at five a.m., enticed her with coffee at five-thirty and was on the road by six. An ancient man with a beard gave them a safety lesson and they hit the water at eight. Marcie growled as they left the pier.
They returned three hours later as mother nature turned the world, and river, upside down. He was clawing at the bank when he saw them sink to the bottom. He had to return to the water or face certain death, or severe punishment. Diving into the froth, he held his breath as he searched the murky bottom with hands and eyes. Then he saw it. Clenching his fist, he floated up. Breaking the surface, he held them over his head..
“I found the car keys Hon!”
Her glare morphed into a smile.
Future Steps
Posted: June 18, 2013 in Fiction, Flash Fiction, Horror, Scary Stories, Sci-fi, short stories, Suspense, Uncategorized, writingTags: eerie, Fiction, ghosts, hauntings, Horror, legends, Life, literature, mystery, sci-fi, Short Stories, women, Writing
Alastair, a talented photographer and writer has started a new fiction group that meets weekly to pen 150 words based on the photo. Check out this weeks offering and submit one of your own HERE. Once at Alistair’s page, you can add the link to your own story with the link button. (A cute blue monster button)
The first thing Meg noticed were the smells. Coffee, mustard and bus exhaust, then came the noise. She was in the city, her city, but not where she should be. Walking to the corner she passed a news stand, the lead paper caught her eye. It was the picture actually, showing a set of stairs she walked everyday on her way to work. The headline read “Woman’s Body Found!”
Grabbing a paper she started to read as she made her way to 2nd street, hoping she wasn’t too late for work. The story related the tale of a woman in a dark blue pants suit, with open toed pumps. She appeared to be about thirty years old with auburn hair. A gold bracelet with a kitten charm was on her left wrist. Her blood ran cold, the article described her outfit, and her to a tee. The killer was still at large.
Then she saw the time stamp on the photo, 03/06/2014, it was March of 2013 when she dressed and left for work. Why hadn’t the vendor yelled when she took the paper without paying?
“Hello? She yelled, but nobody turned. “Somebody hear me, see me please!”
She was met with silence. She touched a man and he passed, her touch unnoticed. Then she saw a man in a yellow hoodie duck into a liquor store, and she recognized that hoodie. The reason for her return was obvious. Ducking into the store she planned her attack and how to expose her killer.
Eye on Violence
Posted: June 17, 2013 in Fiction, Flash Fiction, Horror, Scary Stories, short stories, Suspense, Uncategorized, Women, writingTags: eerie, Fiction, Horror, literature, mystery, Short Stories, women, Writing
Picture it & Write is a weekly creative writing exercise. Talented writers from around the world submit their own stories based on a photo prompt, flash fiction style. I strive to keep up with this group as it stirs my creative juices and pushes me when I need pushed. You can read the stories or submit your own 250 word, (give or take a few words) story Here.
Making her way to the studio, she intended to call Max for lunch, but she stopped in the door, gasping at the giant eye staring at her. The studio was empty so she wandered around the easel, examining the eye, then she flipped through the canvases stacked against the walls. Death, darkness, gloom and doom. Women with dark eyes, hearts dripping blood, bleak abandoned houses filled with spirits. Couldn’t he paint a thing of beauty just once? The news, the papers, the WORLD was filled with violence and sadness! Just once she wished he would paint a sunset, or a pretty girl picking flowers.
When Max entered the studio he called out, “You like it?”
‘NO!” she screamed, snatching the scissors, plunging them into his chest until he stopped screaming. “Now there will be a bit less darkness, and violence in the world,” she smiled, dropping the scissors on the table as she made her way toward lunch.
Friday Fictioneers 5/31-13
Posted: May 30, 2013 in Fiction, Flash Fiction, Horror, Romance, Scary Stories, Sci-fi, self-esteem, Self-improvement, short stories, Suspense, Uncategorized, Women, writingTags: beliefs, eerie, Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, ghosts, happiness, hauntings, Horror, legends, Life, literature, mystery, relationships, sci-fi, Short Stories, women, Writing
Submit a poem or short story of 100 words or less, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read submissions or add your work HERE, or click on the little blue guy at the bottom. Writing tips, typo alerts and comments welcome, as long as they are respectful and helpful, not hateful.
Category: Macbre
Words: 99
Rating: PG-13
Hang dress outside, check. Light sage and light candles, check. Now the incantation that would create his perfect woman. With trembling hands, Stu opened the brittle paper from the ancient, mysterious woman and began to read.
He read faster and faster as a blue light filled his balcony. The dress moved, slowly at first then it filled like a balloon as a tuft of auburn hair sprung from the neck. Then came the scream.
“Damn, I should have hung the dress closer to the ground!” He growled, peering at the broken body below.
Friday Fictioneers – 5/17-13
Posted: May 17, 2013 in Fiction, Flash Fiction, Scary Stories, Sci-fi, short stories, Suspense, Uncategorized, Women, writingTags: eerie, Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, hauntings, Horror, legends, literature, mystery, sci-fi, Short Stories, women, Writing
Submit a poem or short story of 100 words or less, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read submissions or add your work HERE, or click on the little blue guy at the bottom.
Writing tips, typo alerts and comments welcome, as long as they are respectful and helpful, not hateful.
Category: Fantasy
Words: 100
Rating: PG
sarah-ann-hall
Wow, a field of stone art, not what she expected when she set out with her camera. Some were plain, others resembled men or horses. Checking her settings, she found the best light and starting shooting. Someone would buy these shots, it could interest magazines catering to art, gardening, architecture or history?
She screamed as a giant hand pierced the clouds, blotting out the sun as it moved a sculpture. Scrambling on her hands and knees, her dropped camera forgotten, she screamed as a voice fell from the clouds.
“Check mate!” It boomed.