Your space to let your imagination soar with stories, poems, and plays.
Midnight Cheapies is about Rex Myers, a used-car salesman in Linden, Indiana, who hosts a late-night horror show as Rex Rigor. In 1980 he finds out his wife Sharon is having an affair with producer Brock Browers. On Halloween he locks the station during a live broadcast and kills the crew, Sharon, and Brock. Viewers think the screams are part of the act. He is sent to a state hospital, where he still hosts the show in his mind every Saturday night.
A widow buys a quiet bird for a quiet house. The pet shop says dusty droppings are better than wet ones. By August, the town is counting the sick, and the bird is still eating.
DUSTY IS BETTER THAN WET Read More »
“I tell my father I need a ticket to leave Lebanon in a week. Years later, when he tells me he’s building a house on our village’s hills for me to inherit, I don’t have the heart to tell him I won’t be coming back.”
Can You Still Hear My Accent? Read More »
Ray had run a fence crew for thirty years and he had carried on with a woman out of Federalsburg for eleven of them, and Barbara had found out in 1990 and thrown him out and taken him back in six weeks. It was known. It had been known so long that it had stopped being anything, the way a scar stops being a wound, and Ray and Barbara went on a cruise ship every February out of Baltimore and sent everybody a picture of themselves at a dinner table in clothes they did not own.
A Man Is What He Don’t Do Read More »
The river never forgets. Forty years ago, the town of Pineshade watched the masked killer known as the Phantom vanish into the black waters of the Silaq’tem. They told themselves it was over. They were wrong. Now Whispering Pines Amusement Park has turned the real murders into a multimillion-dollar haunted attraction—using the killer’s actual masks, weapons, and blood-stained relics. Opening night is coming. And so is the killing. Bodies appear staged like props. Survivors are hunted through fog-choked woods and forgotten tunnels. The Phantom has returned… but he is no longer alone. Something older walks with him. Q’ayitl—an ancient Salishan root spirit of balance twisted into endless hunger—has risen from the river. It possesses the broken and the guilty, transforming them into charred, regenerating vessels of vengeance. Brittany LaBar, the original final girl, carries her own buried sins. The curse has found a new home inside her. Together, she and the Phantom become something unstoppable. The only hope is the T’sekwi Blade, an ancient weapon that can sever the spirit’s hold—but it demands a terrible price. It can only be wielded by a soul who shares the same hunger… and is willing to bleed for redemption. Pineshade Slasher is classic masked-killer terror dragged into the deep roots of Pacific Northwest legend. Generational guilt. Profit from pain. An ancient curse that turns victims into monsters. The past doesn’t just haunt this town. It wears its face and walks again. The river is calling. Will you answer… or become part of the hunger?
Some monsters wear masks. Erin Roberts just wears clown shoes. Erin Roberts never asked to be the world’s most sarcastic vampire hunter. He definitely didn’t ask to become president of the brand-new Vampire Hunter League of America. One chaotic book later, he’s stuck leading a team of colorful slashers, a snarky AI sidekick, and a family legacy soaked in ancient blood. When the first piece of the legendary Aetherheart—an artifact that can weaponize pure fear—surfaces in Washington D.C., Erin and his ragtag crew race the deadly Twilight Guild to claim it. Naturally, everything goes sideways. Botched heists. Dumpster-diving disasters. An unexpected partial vampire bite. Suddenly Erin is at the center of a supernatural war that stretches all the way back to Vlad the Impaler himself. From frozen Arctic labs to betrayal-filled vampire lairs, he must navigate ancient prophecies, rival clans, mind-reading violations… and the terrifying realization that the big bad might’ve just been the tutorial boss. With new allies, old grudges, and fangs of his own starting to emerge, the reluctant slasher is officially in too deep. Funny. Bloody. Packed with fourth-wall-breaking snark. Clown Shoes & Crimson Shadows is Deadpool meets Buffy with a heavy dose of 30 Days of Night and zero sparkle. Welcome to the family business.
Erin Roberts’ Reluctant Slasher: Clown Shoes & Crimson Shadows Read More »
When the sky takes off her day clothes and slips into her night gown
The sky’s veil to bed Read More »
This is a horror story. But so is life. This is a Fenton Wexler original work. And for that, you are welcome.
“I’m not going to be it,” she said at last. Gently. Definitively. “I want to be clear before you start building something in your head, because I can hear you starting. I’m not the thing you come home to when the city stops working. I had that. I had eleven years of being the thing somebody settled for, near enough, and I’m not doing it again, and I’m especially not doing it with the one person who already proved she’d choose the wrong life over me if it was easier.” She said it without heat. That was the worst of it; she’d made her peace with it long enough ago that it didn’t even cost her anything to say. “Tonight was real. I don’t take it back. But tonight isn’t a down payment.”
She had the same eyes as her brother. Same jaw, same crease in their brows when they argued. Their mother had said so their whole lives, strangers said it, photos said it. She had always loved that, the sense of being matched, of belonging to someone. She had never hated it until now.
“…A woman has been liking on you. That’s it. That’s the whole sickness.” Her voice didn’t rise. It went lower. “And it has eaten you alive. Because you don’t know what to do with a thing you didn’t con somebody into.”
When the cursed jester doll from an estate sale brings a legendary slasher killer to a coastal town of Westport, California, it awakens a legacy of horror that refuses to stay buried. Generations ago, Aleron—a jester betrayed by a king—laid a curse on the unjust. Now, his vengeance returns in the form of the legendary killer: part slasher, part supernatural force, all-consuming evil. As Halloween nears, Westport’s residents—teens looking for thrills, small-town families, TikTokers, and those running from their own secrets—find themselves entangled in a nightmare. The Jester doesn’t just kill; he feeds on guilt, secrets, and shame, turning confession into both a weapon and a salvation. Bodies pile up. Friends betray friends. The line between the living and the damned blurs. But in a town where the past is never truly dead, and the truth you hide can kill you, survival may come at the cost of your soul. The evil behind the mask is never quite gone—and confession may be the only way out. In Westport, some stories never die. And when the bells jingle, you’d better hope you have nothing to hide…
Mara opened the door of the old branch library at six in the morning, the way she had every Tuesday for the past three years. The lock still stuck. She still kicked it. The hinges still complained in their tired metal voices, and she still loved the sound. The building had not been a real
Calla will check her arm in the morning. Sober, in a different light, some name she half-invented outside a kitchen with bad tiles. She says her name again. It gets absorbed into the peeling wallpaper.
Ron Harper thought the worst thing that could happen in college was being invisible. Then he died—and it stuck. Now a ghost classified as an Unfinished Business Person, Ron is trapped in an afterlife run like a cosmic bureaucracy, where the only way out is solving his own murder. Teaming up with Jessica, another newly dead student with the same problem, Ron uncovers a terrifying truth: they weren’t killed by a person. They were hunted. A demonic entity known as “Darkness” is loose, possessing the living and leaving a trail of ritualistic murders in its wake. Worse, it’s not just killing for sport—it’s breaking ancient seals to escape a prison that holds back the end of the world. And its next target is Ron’s sister. With time running out, Ron must do the impossible: confront the thing that killed him, enter the body of its host, and stop it before it claims another life. But as angels, demons, and cosmic forces collide, one truth becomes clear— Some evils aren’t meant to be stopped. And some endings are already written.
Unfinished Bussiness Read More »
I am currently wedged in a ventilation duct that is precisely the width of my own optimism—which is to say, significantly narrower than it looked from the floor—arguing with a 17th-century oil painting. A merchant named Cornelius stares at me from across the room with judgmental intensity, while my target, a 1683 Dutch landscape, is suffering from what I can only describe as a four-decade-long case of clinical resignation. I have exactly ninety seconds before the night guard finishes his salt-and-vinegar chips to perform what I call an “unlicensed art therapy intervention” involving a grappling hook and a very expensive scarf. The cow in the painting hasn’t said a word, but we both know the truth. This fluorescent lighting in here is a moral travesty, and I’m the only one crazy enough to stage a rescue.
THE LANDSCAPE HAS ABANDONMENT ISSUES Read More »
The Last Dawn of Humanity by rowdy rood . Chapter 1: Echoes of the Fallen City The concrete arteries of the city lay fractured, choked with the dust of fallen titans. Twisted rebar clawed at the bruised sky, skeletal fingers reaching for a sun that offered no solace, only a stark illumination of
last dawn of humanity Read More »
There is a particular quality of light that belongs exclusively to the past. Miriam had come to understand this slowly, the way one comes to understand most important things, which is to say reluctantly, and only after a great deal of unnecessary suffering. The light of memory, she had decided, possessed a warmth that no
The Colors, Oh the Colors Read More »
Erin Roberts, the awkward black sheep of a legendary slasher family, fails spectacularly at every kill. More at home with vampire myths than knives, he’s the Slasher League of America’s biggest liability—until his latest target doesn’t die. She’s a vampire nursing a 1950s grudge against his bloodline. One lost mask later, fangs crash through SLOA headquarters. Ancient enemies, family secrets, and a mysterious Watcher force Erin to rally skeptical killers—including his disappointed father and proud grandfather—to rewrite their legacy: stop hunting the living, start hunting the undead. VHLOA The revolution begins with the screw-up. Dark, funny, bloody slasher reinvention.
ERIN ROBERTS, RECLUANT SLÄSHER Read More »
Introducing Classics from The Public Domain The Tell Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe Editor’s Note: We are thrilled to launch a new feature at The Olive Branch Review: Classics from The Public Domain. In a space dedicated to amplifying contemporary voices, we recognize the importance of honoring the literary giants whose works have shaped
Classics from the Public Domain – The Tell Tale Heart Read More »
Ash and Mari are old childhood friends who were separated by their differences but have always been neighbors. Upon graduation, Ash has completely changed and Mari seems interested in wanting to be her friend again, feeling guilty for the way they ended, but Ash trusts no one except her childhood best friend. Tyger, a ruthless boy who doesn’t know how to stay out of trouble but has always been there for Ash, even at her worst.
After a terrifying call from her long-dead “Uncle Tony” on her late-night paranormal radio show, radio host Lydia finds herself plunged back into the nightmare she thought she escaped as a child. What begins as a personal haunting quickly spirals into something far darker. A string of brutal ritualistic murders — starting with bartender Samara Anderson and spreading to others — reveals that Uncle Tony is no ordinary ghost. He is Enyo, an ancient god-like entity from a lost subterranean race known as “the Others,” seeking to reclaim power over humanity. As Lydia teams up with her producer and boyfriend Jason, she uncovers a cosmic horror stretching back eons: ancient beings trapped beneath the Earth, blood sacrifices, interdimensional temples, and a prophecy that requires her as the final key. With the help of fellow victims and unlikely allies, Lydia must confront the monster who shaped — and shattered — her life. But defeating a god is never simple, and some evils refuse to stay buried. A chilling blend of psychological horror, supernatural suspense, and cosmic dread, this story explores trauma, belief, power, and the terrifying question: What if the monsters of your childhood were real… and still hunting you?
My Uncle, My Nightmare Read More »
Leia once met a girl, and it ruined her life.
Your Hands On My Insides Read More »
In the shadowed woods of Washington State, Sidney and Martha Jones sought refuge from the greatest tragedy of their lives — the mysterious disappearance of their fourteen-year-old son, Billy, in the Great Smoky Mountains. But some nightmares cannot be escaped. When a towering, telepathic creature known as B2B begins visiting their secluded cabin, the grieving couple is thrust into a truth far stranger than any Bigfoot legend. Their son is alive — but not in this world. Caught between dimensions and an interstellar civil war, Billy’s fate becomes inextricably linked to the Jones family’s own. For decades, a sacred ritual binds them to the visitor from beyond: a mysterious recipe, midnight visits, and fragile hope. But peace is an illusion. Now, as the sun sets on another summer evening, Sidney prepares the final meal… unaware that this night will bring not reunion, but unimaginable horror. A chilling blend of grief, cosmic horror, and interdimensional terror, this short story explores the thin veil between worlds — and the monstrous price of a parent’s love.
“They stood there, the two of them, while the jukebox played and the dawn crept closer. The woman at the bar hadn’t moved. The bartender had his hands below the counter, probably on a shotgun, probably not planning to use it either way.”
The Devil at Mile Marker Twelve Read More »
“He didn’t tell her. Not that night. But he thought about it. Thought about her question. Thought about her eyes in the dark, watching him like she was reading something written on his skin.”
“And maybe that is the final loss. The loss of having someone in your life in a way that is visible and shared. What remains is private. Internal. Yours alone.”
In My House Is Where You Should Be Read More »
This story is a work of fan fiction, born from imagination and deep respect for the characters’ original context. The ending you’re about to read is my personal interpretation—one of many possible paths for Shane and Ilya’s journey. Other fans might envision different outcomes, some more hopeful, some perhaps even more heart-wrenching. Their story,
OVERHEATED RIVALRY: The Long Game Comes To An End Read More »
If human life is a journey, as the cliche goes, our daily lives become the road that we travel. It happens that for some individuals, the streets they travel along, with indecisions and misfires, take them to dead ends. During his journey, Jason U. reached a dead end. He had to make a decision.
ONE DEAD END AFTER ANOTHER Read More »
Lilou wakes up covered in blood. It splatters her cheeks like paint, dripping down her neck like heavy tears.
Home is where your heart resides.
THE LITTLE MOUSE AT MULBERRY LANE Read More »
A childlike mourning wells up in me, so I ignore my purpling hands A let myself stand out on the frozen lake just to mourn the end of Her, She who is the end to all.
Mourning Morana (The Death of Winter) Read More »
In the beginning, “Elohim”, God, created Heaven and Earth and all in between. His creation, however, was imperfect and lacked joy or love. Another deity, industrious and wise, soon saw the flaws in Elohim’s design. “Beelzebub”, the Devil, saw to free the Man from the sterile life that God forced him into. A cosmic battle for the soul of Man ensued, and the deities would forever be enemies. In the end, however, Beelzebub prevailed and freed the Man, endowing him with joy and love. Praise be to Beelzebub’s glory.
One more Thanksgiving arrived—a lot of hopes and expectations. Yet, the guests were destined to repeat the same stories, ask the same questions, and avoid the sight of relatives they despised. Rarely did expectations survive reality.
One Happy Thanksgiving Read More »
Nick and Tyler proceeded to drink together until some more brothers funneled in as the afternoon classes wrapped up and by 4pm, the fraternity was throwing an impromptu party. For the rest of the night, Nick did not feel the weight in his chest or the pit in his stomach. The bubbling had subsided, and the tears seemed to evaporate. That night, Nick tried to reclaim the feelings he had discovered in the tranquil, white-foam tile universe of his own creation. And with every drink he got a little closer. But like every other time he had tried before, blackness found him first.
When Bridges Break – Chapter One Read More »
Doors. Doors everywhere. They free us or enslave us. They drive us out of existence or deep into paradise. There can’t be men without doors.
KNOCKING ON HEAVEN’S DOOR Read More »
A psychological horror romance.
The Silence Between Heartbeats Read More »
In elder days, in the shadowed land of Eldrath, where stars hung low as lanterns of fate and rivers whispered spells unto stone, there rose a kingdom wrought not of iron nor gold, but of flame. Its citadels did shimmer with towers of heat-glass, and its banners bore the mark of the Phoenix Everlasting. At
The librarian plucks a curled scroll of yellow-tinged paper from the vine. A flower hisses at her.
A Brittle Arrangement Read More »
“The memories flooded back like a torrent of poison. The hollow eyes of the damned, the children weeping in perpetual darkness, the generations destroyed by this curse. Women clutching their throats as invisible hands strangled them, men driven to gibbering madness, their minds shattered like mirrors reflecting only horror. Liam understood then that power without conscience was just another form of slavery, a chain forged of ambition and damnation.”
The Serpent’s Covenant Read More »
By the end, even the reader begins to question whether their own internal monologue is entirely their own. The Whisper Man isn’t in the pages. He’s in the space b̝̯͠e̞̓͡t̴͔͑w̔́̚e̡̞͜e̴̞͐n̹͇͡ them. Day 1̴̡̡̻̗̜̱̋̽̈̀̀́1̴̢̻͙̦̗͑̏͌̌͒͠͞ : HE KNOWS WHAT I THOUGHT HE KNOWS WHAT I THOUGHT HE KNOWS And if you just heard a whisper right now… …it’s already too late.
the man of silence Read More »
A short poem I created, around 2 months ago
IN THE END (short poem) Read More »
AFTERWORD: THE BLOOD-SOAKED CONFESSION OF A TORMENTED SOUL ¡Dios mío! The writer’s torment is not merely eternal—it is a CURSE that burns through the very marrow of one’s bones, a relentless demon that feeds upon the soul like a ravenous beast! This is no simple journey, mi querido lector—NO! This is a war waged
How This “Aswang” Story Grew Its Horrible Wings! Read More »
when fun turns evil what will happen to those who play around
the mysterious door Read More »
Introduction: Gressconsin It is unclear exactly how or when the argument started. Some scholars place the fight’s genesis in mid-August, others early July. Some say it began as a bet, others as a friendly hypothetical, and still others as a matter of spontaneous public hysteria. For an event that has become so deeply ingrained in […]
The attic became his refuge. Dusty, dim, and forgotten. He dragged up a mattress, a lamp, and a stack of books he never read. It was quiet there. Too quiet. Until Liam showed up.
Boy In The Attic (mlm) Read More »
But at that moment, she watched her sister burn and remembered how much she hated summer.
For the first time in years, Luca wondered what it might be like to sit beside someone who didn’t expect him to be anything at all.
The Sky Between Us (mlm) Read More »
I lie there in bed, listening to the soft, rhythmic, plinking of rain against the ceramic shingles on my roof. The pattering blankets the world in a velvet chorus. I sit upright, swinging my feet over the edge of my bedside and emit a deep and satisfying yawn. Sunlight wafts through my bedroom window and
At the Top of the World Read More »
Before either could get their bearings, the creature in the cage popped up on their feet, yanked their body so violently that the connected tubes pulled apart, pushed the door wide open, and jumped on Dad quickly and ferociously. The creature began biting into Dad’s neck and extremities, tearing at his clothing and flesh as he yelled out in agony. In the distance, Paige saw Emily holding a broom handle against a tiny gray button near the light switch. The girls were in horrified shock, but they couldn’t look away. Something felt familiar, almost majestic about what they were seeing. As the monster fed into their father’s flesh, its body began filling out, becoming more human with each bite. The cracks in the monster’s skin and sunken parts around the ribs and face began filling with the same greenish glow that Paige had seen before.
The Lost Parents of the Cul-de-Sac Read More »
“The English brought here tea from China and Eucalyptus from Australia. Who’s to say what else climbed aboard those circumnavigating East India Company ships?”
The Skin of Your Teeth Read More »
“Dada!” The baby stood clutching her crib bars, rocking violently back and forth. It was bedtime, and as had been the case every night since the Heller’s move to the new house, she refused to go to sleep. Her reasons varied. Hungy, she sometimes claimed. Or she shivered in place saying code. Tonight, simply neh
While dealing with the death of her beloved grandfather, Clara must battle a supernatural entity.
It was hours ago that her stink—the grease of her hair, the cheese on her breath, the deodorant curdling in her armpits, the animality of her meat—convinced me to keep her.
Thank you for becoming a part of the Happy Heart family! As you already know, every decision you make is impactful. Choosing Happy Hearts products not only improves your life, but a portion of our proceeds from every sale goes towards charitable donations to better the lives of others. Our products are naturally raised and we believe that you will be able to taste the difference. Goodness starts with your choices. That is why we at Happy Hearts believe that it all starts with you!
Welcome to the Happy Hearts Family Read More »
The bus was crossing the border between South Carolina and Georgia when Troy decided that eating the brownies his roommate had given him was a bad decision. Time stretched out, an initial wave of pleasant floating slowly overrun by creeping terror.
“Dude, check it out!” “Woah. Where did you get that?” “My dad gave it to me.” “That’s awesome. Your dad is so awesome.” “You want some?” “You sure?” “Yeah. No big. We have like a bunch of these at home so I can basically have it anytime I want.” “That’s so cool.” “Here. Take a
Swimming in the Sky Read More »
Lucio stood like an anxious dog wagging his tail at his owner, when he heard a bird sing with the voice and melody of an uncanny familiar song. He turned and stared at the bird sitting on the roof of his house. Lucio’s entire body itched, from his skin to his insides.
“Mina.” He said to me calmly, his analytical composure returning to him. “That night… when Dracula forced his blood upon you…” Abrupt. Tactless. My heart sank, the memories that haunt me every night flooding back to me in the light of day. Jack knew me well enough to see the fear as it crept over my face. “Its fine. Everything is fine, there’s just a hypothesis I can’t shake.” “Hypothesis?” I murmured, barely audible. “His blood, it may have had some unexpected… lasting… effects.”
Mina after Dracula: Blood of My Blood Read More »
1. His face looks gaunt, even through the steam haze on the bathroom mirror. He wipes a streak clear with his hand. In the harsh light of the LEDs, the hollows of his cheeks are darkened by both shadows and stubble and he slips with the razor. A bead of blood forms and trickles down
Barbara blinked in a haze. In these scenarios usually no survivors are found. But she had been found mud-caked and nearly frozen to death in the bitter Alaskan wilderness. Barbara Keniston was the only survivor of a group of four scientists, one field guide, and a journalist who was doing a report on Arctic wolves
Across an endless beach, she follows him. Trudging through damp sand, her lips cracked, and eyes glazed. She staggers through perpetual twilight following a shadow. The hazy shape of her brother, meandering through the bitter fog on a beach that never reaches the sea.
Under smoky skies, parents hover near their children, eyes flicking to the unbarred window as they decide to tell the story one more time. For good measure. The children grip their sheets as the words roll over them, renewing the ever burning fear that fills their lungs. What a brilliant boy he used to be,
Being a single parent was rough, especially in Fresno. An expensive town between the Sierra Nevadas and the Pacific. Of course everything is expensive nowadays. Looking at the moon’s position in the sky, the thing in the night sighed and walked back into the club whose air was more cigar smoke and cheap perfume than
When he turned to face them, his face was covered in gashes from the metal shards that clawed at his skin from biting into his coworkers’ bikes. Most of his team passed out from horror; some had to be held back from beating his face in, and a few others tried to sue. Once again, his diagnosis saved him.
I could feel their desires for success. They were ambitious to be sure. But the ends were always the same: money, sex, and power, never realizing their ambition was nothing more than misplaced desire for acceptance.
He wanted to be a part of her life. He just forgot to ask.
The Diary of a Madman Read More »
Nobody could have prepared me for the side effects. I took the first dose as a Nor’easter hit, the colloquial name for a big old storm, buffeting the cheap windows of my studio apartment, letting in a little whistle of cold air as the burning fluid was injected into the pinched bit of stomach fat. […]
When Mira was small, her mother never said I love you. She said, Finish your plate. She said, Don’t waste what feeds you. Years later, when her mother’s body thinned to transparency, Mira began cooking for her. At first, she thought it would save her. But hunger, she learned, was not a thing you filled. It was a thing that filled you. After her mother’s death, Mira cooks to remember. When her own blood drips into the pot and she tastes it, she finally understands what her mother meant. The more she feeds, the hungrier she becomes. (A lyrical horror story about inheritance, consumption, and the hunger that devours love itself.)
My body and mind froze as I held your limping hand. The orderlies dragged me away before I could see for myself. I ask myself if there was anything I could have done to save you, rip out the parasite before it took you from me. But all logic here leads to the same conclusion. You’re gone.
A swooning rocked through her chest, letting the music course over her skin as she sang along. “You can check in anytime you like, but you can never leave.” Fyrn’s hips swayed as she mumbled the melody. She dove into the malaise of smoke and noise in the dimly lit space, tension dissipating. The heat of her embarrassment faded under the pretense of having a good time, rather than care what her voice sounded like above the murmur of the crowd.
There’s evil twins and doppelgangers and the dark, uncanny specters in the other-sides of mirrors that betray their otherness with the occasional malevolent wink at one’s own unblinking eyes, and all that. But that’s not how any of this works. It’s both more banal and pervasive than any of that.
“Investigators say the suspect uses force and/or coercion to enter homes. Due to a recurring pattern, authorities believe the suspect may be responsible for eight known murders. Police urge residents not to answer their doors until the warning is lifted.”
His sanctuary was stitched together with quiet details: star charts inked in fading precision, tea mugs with stories in every chip, and the soft, rhythmic hum of the telescope chasing constellations. Silence was his shield. It asked nothing, revealed nothing, and gave him space to simply be. Then Giovanni arrived, and the silence braced itself.
A Quiet Between Stars (mlm) Read More »
After losing her wife in a tragic fire, Evelyn begins receiving letters that seem to be written by the woman she buried. When a midnight encounter reunites them, Evelyn is swept into a love that feels resurrected—until the cracks begin to show.
Love For The Dead (wlw) Read More »
In the ruins of Viremoor, when the moon is high and the wind is still, a blue flame flickers—and a voice calls out for someone who will listen.
Seven rooms. One truth. Leave before dawn.
The Last Room (Horror) Read More »
Latch Mary jolted awake, breath sharp in her throat. She lay still, waiting for feeling to return to her heavy limbs. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if the pounding she heard was in the walls or inside her own chest. She was on her living room couch, the AC blasting on her face.
Mara came to the house to disappear. She didn’t tell anyone where she was going. She left her phone in a trash can at a gas station two towns over. She paid in cash. She wanted to be untraceable. Forgotten. The house was perfect for that…
Sin will lead to an endless space with no rhyme or reason. Only in the end will it all make sense.
The House of The Spyder Read More »
The Haunting of Priscilla Bell Beep. Beep. Beep.Priscilla wasn’t quite ready to wake up when her alarm went off at its usual time.“Ugh, 5:30 a.m. already,” she muttered, raising her head to look at her phone on the nightstand.The night before had been harrowing. The roads were slick from rain, and she had taken
The Haunting Of Priscilla Bell Read More »
From a full length novel called Not My Bowl Of Rice, A telenovela/cookbook
THE CURSE OF BLOOD AND WINGS: A TALE OF SISTERLY BETRAYAL Read More »
In the hallway, the sound of the club swelled again, all lowered laughter and the soft scrape of wealth against want. He didn’t touch me as we walked. He didn’t need to. The crowd moved, subtle currents rearranging themselves around his gravity, and my body followed as if it knew the particular cadence of this tide. We reached a mezzanine that overlooked the main floor. From here, the club looked like an opening act for a storm—lightning spooling through glasses, thunder stored like promise in the bass. “This is my house,” he said in my ear. I turned my head and found he was close enough that I could make out the tiny scar at his jawline, a paler crescent under his stubble. I wanted to ask who had placed it there, which version of him had deserved it. “Watch.”
Shattered Trust in Broken Lies – Chapter One Read More »
“Wilder? You there, bud?” The doctor walked cautiously but with purpose, following the path of trampled, discolored grass, his eyes fixed on the blue horizon. Softly, he called again, careful not to look, to frighten, “Wilder? Bud?” “Oh – Doc, I uh– ” the boy turned sharply to face the shed wall – ” Ain’t
Apparently, the experiment was about how souls work. Souls? I told them I didn’t believe in any of that spiritual crap. They said that’s what they were trying to figure out—the science behind souls. I wondered what the hell that could mean… but didn’t matter to me, I’d cut my own arm off at the chance for food and shelter.
Ash and Eli watched the feed from Eli’s bedroom. Curtains drawn. Volume low. Eyes wide. Yet, a growing heaviness filled the air, like an invisible presence pressing down on them. A strange feeling settled in their stomachs, a quiet dread that whispered something was very wrong.
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