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PREY NO MOREPREY NO MORE

Rope dug into Patrick’s wrists as he struggled to free his hands. His hot, damp breath washed over his face, trapped by the fabric sack secured over his head.

A floorboard creaked. Patrick froze, his back rigid against the chair, and strained his ears. Another creak.

“Hello?” he called.

The sound of swishing fabric.

“Who’s there? Where am I? Why’d you bring me here?” Blurred memories swam through his mind: drinking at the bar; stumbling home; a shadow sweeping out from an alley.

Fingers grasped his chin and jerked his head upward. “Hush.” A woman’s voice.PREY NO MORE3 weeks ago in Short Stories

Independent

The sun was headed down towards the horizon, its bright light shining down onto a single road. Forest and trees were alongside the road, a few birds could be seen in the trees; chirping happily and living their lives. The road led into a small town, but before it reached that town, there was a small building next to it.

This building was single story, and had a large front and back yard. Small playground equipment was displayed out in both of them. It seemed like a nice little place, maybe a daycare or something like that. But upon closer inspection, it was not as enjoyable as it had seemed.

It was an old, abandoned building. The paint wIndependent2 weeks ago in Short Stories

Take a Pass"So, you want to be famous again? You want to be cared for again?”
The girl who spoke the words to me was about ten years old, had reddish brown hair down to her lower back, and the most adorable set of freckles dappled across her nose and cheeks I'd ever seen. I hadn't said a word, but she had just walked up to me at the bus stop and asked the question.
I didn't want to answer, so I asked a question.
"Is that a question, or an offer?"
I should have anticipated her response.
"Can't it be both?"
The wind blew slightly. Her hair was tousled by it and glinted in the sun. She didn't belong here in this neighborhood. We were surrounded by industrial buildings and tenements. Her straight teeth, clear skin and new clothing spoke of the well-heeled suburbs. I was here because I had nowhere else to go, but a child such as this was never seen playing here. Part of me envied her potential, her youth and her possibilities. I was surprised whenTake a Pass1 month ago in Short Stories

RestlessnessSo I find myself here yet again awake at night at three in the morning as I write
As the fragments of another nightmare still creep on my mind
As I lay here in fright
Pondering over this I wonder how I came like this
Sitting here scared over another dream
Haunted by memories not of my own
My mind becomes restless at why this occurs to me now
As "He" sits, waiting for me
And I will always resist his unspoken question
So I will try yet again to sleep
Though still expecting the nightmares
My mind becomes restless at why yet again
And I know I will not sleep tonight.Restlessness1 week ago in Short Stories

Close Your EyesAs the day comes to an end you begin to shift into your night mode.
In your night mode, your a crazy party animal with no restraints.
You head on over to your friends house.
You knock on the door and yell for him to come answer the door.
Nothing happens.
You then see a open window on ground level and go through it.
When you get through the window you have now entered the wine cellar of your friend's house.
A place where rock music is always blasting and all the wine holsters have bourbon and other hard liquors in them because everyone knows wine is for pussies who can't handle REAL liquor.
But instead of rock music playing and the holsters stacked with hard liquor, there's nothing.
No music, no booze, and even weirder, no holsters.
You start to walk around and suddenly the window you entered from slams shut.
Your reflexes kick in and you quickly zip around to see nothing but a dark hand move away from the window.
Then a light bulb goes on in your brain.
It's all a practical joke.
You tClose Your Eyes1 month ago in Short Stories

Read At Your Own Risk 'It's too late when everything goes dark'
- The Hoosiers.

Pitch. Black. Darkness.

My eyes attempt to adjust, yet see nothing. I am engulfed in complete blackness. Not even a hint of light can be seen. My eyes are wide open but there is nothing in front of me. Nothing I can see.

I am petrified. Uncontrollably shaking. Huddled in a corner of my bedroom. There is no escape. There is nothing I can do. He is coming for me. Because I know the truth. Because I know of his existence.

You know when you hear your houRead At Your Own Risk5 days ago in Short Stories

Mr. Carlyle's End

For a long time, Gary Carlyle ran an illegal sweatshop in the abandoned factory at the edge of the forest, putting innocent children to work. He always eluded the authorities, and paid off the parents of the children to keep quiet about his evil operation.

He thought no one would ever uncover his scheme. He was wrong. There was a creature living in the woods, who watched him. It became more and more enraged at this injustice over the passing months, until it could take no more and decided to take matters into its own hands.

One day, while Mr. Carlyle was in his office counting his ill-gotten money, the door burst open. A tall thin man, tallMr. Carlyle's End1 month ago in Short Stories

IndigoIndigo:

The color of her soul.

If you’d ask me, I wouldn’t know.

Everyday at 8am, she would come inside my paint shop.

Hiding her face with her hand, turning away with a smile showing. And in a pleasant timid tone, she would ask,

"One tube, of Indigo"

The only color she ever asked for—ever needed really.

I found it queer, very weird, but what was worse is when she asked me for her paint brush.

I handed it to her, but not in haste, just to see how she would react.

She paid me, like anyone else, but unlike everyone else, she tore the bristles one by one from the handle; just humming.

Then she asked, “May I haIndigo1 month ago in Short Stories

He loves you...(Creepypasta)

Recuerdo mi infancia débilmente, casi no logro recordar muchas cosas, y bueno, no creo que todo el mundo la recuerde con claridad, pero algo que recuerdo, fue una experiencia un tanto aterradora, pero reconfortante a la vez. Mi nombre es Edward, y estoy aquí para contar algo que recordé recientemente.
Un día, en mi casa, revisaba alguna de mis cosas viejas, de mi universidad, de la escuela, cosas muy viejas, y entre ellas encontré un globo, un globo rojo, estaba inflado, me pregunte ¿Qué hacia allí?, ¿y por qué no exploto con las cosas que tenía aquí?, pero dHe loves you...(Creepypasta)3 days ago in Short Stories

Unamusement Park (Possible Future Creepypasta?) Unamusement Park.

I think just about every child cannot help but squeel in delight when they pass by an amusement park and beg their parents to take them to the site. The flashy rides, the aroma of sweet smelling foods, and the loud noises of talking, laughing, and screaming. Yeah, that's what an amusement park is supposed to be. So there is, or maybe I should say was, an amusement park lying not far from where I live in my town. It used to be fun, I mean I can certainly remember being a kid and enjoying the attraction. They called this place "Freude Land", which meant Joy LanUnamusement Park (Possible Future Creepypasta?)1 month ago in Short Stories

Das Tier In Mir

He stood in the forest, the trees black and the leaves appeared as simple shadows on twisted and gnarled branches in the moonless sky. The spring night was warm, the crickets chirped in unison as the wind rustled the grass and the branches all around him. The man’s breathing was shaky and nervous and he felt like he might vomit just as he had hours ago. It would be only a matter of minutes…he just knew it in the pit of queasy stomach. And as if right on cue of some sort the dark clouds steadily moved aside to reveal it. The catalyst of what would change him from man into something…beyond a man.

The eerie white moonliDas Tier In Mir1 month ago in Short Stories

If Jeff the Killer was realisticI re-wrote the ending to Jeff the Killer as if it were realistic. I don't have a problem with the original version, I just thought this would be an interesting thing to write. Enjoy!
On the night Jeff came home from the hospital, everyone had trouble sleeping. They were worried about him. What would people think of him now that he was so horribly disfigured? Margret and Peter planned on homeschooling him and his brother Liu from now on because of what happened. Margret kept checking on Jeff every once in a while. Every time she walked into his room, he was sitting up in his bed, whispering to himself. "I thought those pain killers would have worn off by now," she thought to herself, "I was hoping I wouldn't have to take him back to the hospital for mental testing, but it looks like I'll have too, I really hope it's still just the pain killers."
She put Jeff back to bed again, but she didn't leave this time. Instead, she laid down next to him and pulled him clIf Jeff the Killer was realistic1 week ago in Short Stories

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