Creepypasta: Best ForgottenCreepypasta: Best ForgottenCreepypasta: Best Forgotten4 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
You want to keep sleeping. You’re not even particularly tired. It’s more because you have the instinctive suspicion that if you open your eyes, you’ll have to face the harsh reality that you don’t know how long you’ve been asleep or who you are.
Eventually, the gibbering you hear becomes too much to ignore. With a Herculean effort you get up and stretch. You had been sleeping on an operating table in what looks like an autopsy room, to judge by the morgue-like setting, complete with red-speckled tools and containers set into the walls which are thankfully closed. All in all, not a good sign, much less a good start.
It is with growing dread that you begin to pinpoint the sound of the chattering and moaning as coming from the corpse-receptacles in the area. You decide to make it your priority to leave. Now.
After mutedly noting that you had been wearing a patient’s gown like the type you’d get in a doctor’
Kenyan Quicksand Olivia walked through the rich, colourful, steaming hot rainforest — not completely by her lonesome — instead with Charlotte, Amy and Shannon at her side. They were all attractive in their own rights, a group of popular girls who ruled the top of the tree at school. One was a busty blonde, the other a curly haired half-Trinidadian, half-British county athlete whereas the third, Shannon, was a black-haired adorable teenager with a smile to die for. The last was Charlotte, who competed in Equestrian for the country at junior level, soon to take-the-reigns as Britain's leading horse-rider for the 2016 Olympics in Rio. All of them were the centre of attention for ravenous, longing eyes at school as they made sure there uniforms made them look unbelievably sexy. They strode through the rainforest of Kenya, on a school field trip, completely oblivious to the dangers all around them. This was an unforgiving environment, Mother Nature's GKenyan Quicksand2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
First Change: The Pain, The Shock, The EcstasyFirst Change: The Pain, The Shock, The Ecstasy1 week ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
After much soul searching and conversation with my counselors, parents and friends I decided after graduating from high school to attend college in Seattle, my home town. However within just a few weeks of starting college I realized I was totally out of control. What was happening to me was probably the same things a lot of people go through when they start college – but I was wasn't coping well at all. The partying, the all-nighters, the general craziness of it all had come to a crashing end when I woke up at noon one day with a killer headache and so sick I thought I was going to die. This has to stop I told myself. I had already early in my first semester on campus spent more time partying than getting an education. I could still withdraw from my classes and not be penalized. So I did it. I needed to get my head clear and my body back in shape.
One of my buddies' fathers owned a logging company in Alaska. It was the start of logging season and they were hiring. I knew his dad
Southern Gothic-It’s night. The horses are all standing by the fence in a neat row. You shine a flashlight at them, the big black kind with D batteries that are mandatory to keep in the house. It doesn’t shine very far, and their eyes don’t reflect the light. Shouldn’t their eyes reflect the light?Southern Gothic5 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
-You drive past the swamps and joke that they smell like a dead thing. Your friends all laugh, but you know that whatever’s in there isn’t dead.
-It’s the weekend crawfish boil, and the evening is hot and smells of rotting plants. Music beats through the ground. Gnats swarm. Everyone’s brought their crawfish seasoning, but no crawfish. It’s time to draw straws.
-Go to church on Sunday. Laugh. Sing. Pray. Forget what sits in the pews at midnight mass. Pray.
-It’s been raining five days straight. The whole town is relieved. The woods will be satisfied, for a while.
-The Sheriff shuffles past you in the morning. His shirt is stained in odd whorls wit
The Forgotten The evening's lanterns were burning low, and he had nursed mug after mug in smirking solitude. A silent phantom amidst the tavern's dominant uproar, an impartial observer of the occasional brawls that cleared its centre and stained its wooden floor with blood.The Forgotten4 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Each sip like sinking his mind in honey, stilling its movements in the sweetness of intoxication. By the clatter of the third mug, he was smiling for no reason, voices both internal and external reduced to a slurring cacophony in the back of his mind.
The closest he could ever come to peace. Separating himself from that relentless murmur, running a finger around the rim of clay vessels and pretending as though nothing had anything to do with him. A drunken charade on which the curtains would always close, reaching its final act as the early hours emptied that chamber of customers. He would slide from that stool and steady himself on swaying legs, allowing the proprietor's faint farewell to propel him toward the
Burning BrightBORING.Burning Bright2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
This one word blazed like a flame in Emily's mind. She was sitting in class, chewing on the end of a pen, and wanting to run away. Or scream. Or do something, instead of listening to a regurgitated, dumbed-down version of things she ad already read volumes about. The teacher was a short, dry woman with her graying hair in a tight bun and her spidery fingers wagging like those of the lawyers on TV. Her droning voice barely reached Emily's brain, whose ears were more tuned to other things. A pair of blackbirds were courting outside the window. Her classmates were whispering behind her, making derisive comments about her appearance. Noises, movement, smells, details flooded her mind. There was nothing in particular to focus on, just the slow passage of time.
So she contemplated that. How many classes will she be required to sit through, how many frustrating hours will await her until her life inevitably ends? In her body, cells were doing their thing: growing, dividing, sec
Obsession is Another Word ... (Flash-Fiction) I don't consider myself to be an artist; I am not yet on the same level as Leonardo Da Vinci, and I don't long to follow in his footsteps either.Obsession is Another Word ... (Flash-Fiction)3 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I can paint myself out of any corner that I am in. I don't need a certificate of authenticity to prove that to the masses. I don't need this and I don't need that. I don't need the approval of everyone else. I merely do what I am, and what my art calls for me to be.
At least, that's the bullshit I made a habit of telling myself.
I thought that it made me feel better and kept me motivated, but now, I can't really say for sure why I do it.
They say a painter need only please himself with his work.
They say that one shouldn't allow somebody else and their no-good opinions discourage them.
They say a lot of things.
They say so many things. They say so many goddamn things. All the time, it never stops. They say this, and they say that. Say this. Say that.
Sunny Plains The long dirt lane seemed to continue on for miles through nothing but neglected farmland. Jeremy glanced at the GPS again. The route he was taking didn't appear to exist; the tiny blue avatar representing the sedan was driving through a green wasteland. Jeremy tapped the screen impatiently. The screen flickered then went black. Jeremy cursed under his breath.Sunny Plains5 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“Your map is outdated,” Kathleen informed from the passenger seat.
“And your GPS is useless.”
Jeremy dismantled the contraption and threw it into the compartment between the seats.