Micropasta: Out the Door AgainMicropasta: Out the Door AgainMicropasta: Out the Door Again2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I don't need another friend
Smile and drop the cliché
'Till you think I'm listening
I take just what I came for
Then I'm out the door again
- A Perfect Circle, The Package
I killed my wife. Not because I hated her, or even that I particularly minded that her crying would wake me up five out of seven nights of the week. I just hated what she represented.
Sorry, I guess this deserves some backstory.
My wife was a devoted woman. Why she stuck with me I’ll never know. Maybe she still loved me after all these decades, after all these beatings and fits of anger and broken dishes. But she wouldn’t obey. I needed her to obey.
I’m a bit of a control freak. Everything has to be in order. Everything has to be under my direct influence and authority. I’m the type of man who would slug her for putting the salad bowls next to the soup bowls instead of the top
Dream QuestDream QuestDream Quest2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
A man’s dream of Leng
Who can ever say where we go or what we do in our dreams? We only witness them. And some may believe what we tell them, but others remain skeptical till the end.
Thus I lay in deep slumber from eleven pm until two am. The thoughts of daily life wafted through my conscious mind like dull white clouds across the azure sky until my mind lay empty. I had learned of this from a Tibetan monk living in the edge of my city. The rest was experience. The emptiness took about one hour. Then I finally drifted asleep.
Initial dreams were mundane in nature. They disclosed my relationships and encounters with various types, some of whom I doubted their humanity. Others were distinctly human and I had enjoyed a refreshing experience.
After dreaming once or twice if these encounters, I finally drifted into deep slumber and then the dream worlds changed sharply. Perchance I was subconsciously affected by stories by fellow dreamer Randolph Carter. Soon enough
Humanly Imbalanced. What has come of me? Hours, days, weeks have become nothing but blurs. Only a odd sense of horror, and lust. When I awake, I am standing in a pool of gore and crimson. The police haven't caught up yet, I haven't caught up either. What has happened to me? What happened to the humans laying on the ground in front of me on the darkest of nights? Am I mad? Have I finally reached that point? To break and kill? Have I? Who has murdered these people? Why have I always been the one to see them? Why am only I having darkness in my memories, where has my sanity gone..? Where has my humanity gone?Humanly Imbalanced.1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Why can't these street whores scream louder? Why does it take me plucking their finger nails one by one for them to understand they weren't going to live? Why does it take me carving out of their kidneys for them to faint? Why does it take so long for them to understand?! My love belongs to no one anymore, the vixens are all whining on their deathbeds with their vocal cord
Non-Believer Your mother was a very stubborn woman. She detested the belief of the supernatural. From an early age she told you that all things supernatural were lies.Non-Believer1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
In kindergarten, as children often do, your classmates spoke of fairies. You told them they weren't real. Your teacher scolded you. As you got older, the topics of interest matured slowly. Soon people spoke of ghosts and spirits. Your friend in the 5th grade, also a girl (and your first crush), was quite different than you. She believed very strongly in the realm of ghosts and spirits. She told stories of humans falling in love with ghosts having children who could interact with ghosts too. One day she asked you if you believed in ghosts. "No," you answered instantly. Ghosts aren’t real; you’ve never thought otherwise
In the 6th grade, you walked into your mother's bedroom late at night. You don't remember why. You only remember watching her. She spoke to
ReflectionShe was standing in front of the mirror. Her reflection smiled at her. She smiled back. The woman in the mirror raised her hand. She raised hers. Something seemed off but she ignored it, The woman in the mirror nodded, and made a punching motion. The woman mimicked it, the mirror cracked, shards falling into the floor. The reflection reached down. She felt her fingers closed against the sharp edge of a broken glass shard. The Reflection ran it's hand across it's throat. It took a few seconds too late to realize something was off.Reflection1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Horror Story about a Carnival Clown that gets Lost The clown crawled out the plane wreckage. He was the only survivor.He looked toward the sunset, found north and started on his way.Horror Story about a Carnival Clown that gets Lost1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
His throat started to feel dry and his limbs felt sore, but he kept walking. He clearly slowed down as time passed though. Finally, he collapsed by a small river. He carefully cupped his hands and drank. He was so thirsty he didn't even care that the water was probably filthy. He climbed a small way up a tree with the only thing he salvaged from the crash; a pocket knife tied to his belt.
The next morning, the birds were the only thing to wake underneath the huge trees' shade. The clown lazily sat up. Then suddenly remembered what had happened. He made his way down the tree and followed the river. Something in the water caught his eye. There was a T-shirt clinging to a rock. After wading to it he noticed the red color was washing off. He heard a sound and reacted quickly, jumping to the shore. Just as he reached safety a few pira
Delirium Worldbuilding: DireHe saw the kid from across the street, a flicker of fire catching his eye. He ducked out from under the street light and crossed the deserted road, not even looking for passing cars as he quieted his steps. No time to worry if there was something good to be got.Delirium Worldbuilding: Dire1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The broad-shouldered man peered around the corner and into the alleyway, ducking back into cover like some sort of spy after catching a quick glance. He hadn’t been seen, but he had seen a promising victim. Just a boy, couldn’t be older than seven, dirty, thin, sitting on the ground and leaning against the worn brick wall with a small flame cupped in his hands. It was that fire he wanted. Could be drugs, cigarettes, even a lighter would be nice, and it wouldn’t be any trouble at all, like taking candy from a baby he always thought. No question about what someone so young was doing with illicit materials, not in this city.
The man stepped ominously out into the mouth of the alley, his formidable being framed fr
Strangely PeckishHe was hungry. That much was certain. He had eaten everything in his house, yet He never felt full. He was ravenous. His wallet, empty. Spent desperately on food. A human could only last up to three weeks without food. He was counting the hours since his last meal, fully aware he could starve. He paused, licking his lips at the idea. Meat. Raw? Red. It had to be red. Still moving? Dear God! Yes!Strangely Peckish1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The aftertaste distinctly reminded him of sewage, and he was still ravenous. He dug through the Hobo's sacks, finding an open can of cat food. He was about to eat when a noise distracted him. He looked up, seeing a Cat. He looked down at the food, then a the cat. He held out the tin. “Here Kitty, kitty.”