Halloweeny I want to break down what Hollow’s Eve is like when you’re living with a serial killer. It’s such an interesting experience that I seriously cannot bear not to let you in on it.
You might think it’s terrifying, but that’s just profiling. Just because they kill people in their spare time doesn’t mean that’s all they can talk about.
Our serial killer host, Tosya (better known as “Dad” by Grayson), stabbed a—wait. You think I’m going to say woman, trick-or-treater, baby, don’t you? You’re so close-minded, I cannot even. Tosya stabbed a pumpkin with a curved little knife he’d better working with all day. I leaned against Grayson and watched him, sipping at the apple cider he’d made
Watching I know there are monsters under peoples' beds and clawing so viciously at the walls of my skull. I can hear them screaming and fighting to get out of me through my actions, but I can't release them.Watching3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The monsters want blood.
I don't want that.
But I do...
What do I want? Can one of you help me? None of the monsters help very much--they all tell me that killing is for the best and that if I don't continue it, they'll kill me. I know that you think I'm crazy, but I'm not.
They're real and among us. One in five people is a monster like me--or at least a monster-in-hiding. Psychopaths and sociopaths and schizophrenics and sadist lurk all around you. There could be one in your family, someone who leers over you in your sleep just wondering how your head would look on a stick, wanting to make a lamp or a couc
Apocalyptic Journal-Daily Entry 211-12-32Apocalyptic Journal-Daily Entry 23 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
At least I think that's the date. It's becoming increasingly harder to tell as the longer I stay locked in a kitchen, the more the days bleed together.
Joseph's brother spent the day in solitude. We didn't try to comfort him, lest we be shot down and screamed at. We kept a safe distance away.
No zombies were seen today--a brief respite from all the recent action. It was wonderful not seeing a rotting face.
The taste of canned cream corn is becoming monotonous as that we have had it for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the past...week? As stated before, I do not know.
More later. For now, sleep.
The EndermanNightfall. Nighttime. Night. Darkness. Stars. Moon. Wait... moon? Moon, round and bright. Crescent shaped. Moon. Sun? No, sun is gone. No sun. Good. Sun is bad. Sun is evil. Darkness is good. Darkness is perfection.The Enderman4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Now we build.
Bit by bit, block by block. Darkness consumes, but no matter. Moonlight enough, more then enough. So I build-- we build. They are not far, but I am alone. Black skin. White eyes. Long arms. Long legs. Tall, too tall. Building, always building (but why?)
Sandcastles (previous night). Wooden tower (not mine). Waves of the ocean--
OCEAN! AWAY get
away get away
get away get away
get away get away--
I escaped. Water far away. Keep it away. Building again. Towers, pyramids, anything, everything. Far away, they are far away. I cannot see them. Oh well, must build, they will be fine.
Small tower, getting larger. No joy, never joy, must build. Resources,
Dio's Cruelty! :DDiomedes' POVDio's Cruelty! :D3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Max and Jezebel had been watching the movie Carrie when I had entered the room. I took a seat on the floor and leaned between them against the couch. I watched as the girl got pig's blood poured on her and tapped my fingers impatiently on my knee. Jezebel had told me today was the day. While Carrie wreaked havoc on the attendees of her high school prom, Jezebel tapped me on the head. I looked up at her to see her nod slowly, our eyes grave. "Hey Max, I better head home. My parents'll be expecting me back soon," Jezebel said automatically, standing and collecting her phone.
"All right. Do you want my dad to give you a ride?" Max asked, flipping off the TV and standing to Jezebel's level. I had left the room.
"No, it's a short walk. I'll be fine. Talk to you later, bye!" she called, exiting the house and advancing to the creek around back. Cyr
The Hole in the FenceEveryone knew about the hole in the fence. You went to the back of the park, where the grass gave way to packed dirt, and followed the fence east until you found it. You didn't even have to crawl on the ground -- you could just walk right through the space where the chain links had been torn away from the post.The Hole in the Fence4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
When Tina was little, too young to go to the park by herself, she asked her big brother what was on the other side.
"What do you mean? You can see through the fence already."
And he was right. On the other side lay more dirt, and then rocks that eventually led to the foothills. But there was still a mystery about it all. There were rumors of a cave, and of small blind animals that lived in the crevices of the rocks.
But Tina only went through the fence once. The very first time she was allowed to go to the park alone, she found the hole and went through it. She reached the large,
Christmas at the Chechelnitsky's. Christmas Eve. One of the things about America I have come to enjoy. Though I despise the cold, I must say it is downright scenic when the snow's gently falling outside the window, the all-too-familiar, stereotypical Christmas setting unraveled within the home. You know, the tree flashing with perky white lights, their reflections dancing on the cylindrical surfaces of the ornaments hanging about them. The smell of fir trees and crackling fires, perhaps a few cinnamon scented candles or gingerbread men adding their own distinct scents to the air. I love that especially about this time of year--even the air seems to join in on the festivities.Christmas at the Chechelnitsky's.3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I also adore how my child and little brother gaze in wonder at the orbs of multicolored glass as they hang them on the tree, their reflections comically distorted in them. How they frolic about...it's simply adorable, though my brother Maks is no longer a sm
Onyx's old story I believe that everyone, at some decided point in time, deserves to share their story with those whom will listen. Will you listen? Wonderful. My name, little dearies, is Onyx Morgan Smith. Before I died, I was destined to a nightmarish life of being Mrs. Onyx Morgan Franklin, but you shall learn more of this swine shortly.Onyx's old story3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The year I came into this world was 1834, in London, England. I do not honestly remember my first twelve years on this earth and do not desire to, either. I only know for certain that it was, in fact, uninteresting and bland. My father moved us to South Carolina in 1846, where my wealthy family owned a rice plantation.
As you may know, when and if you pay attention in history class, this was a little passed the time of witches and dragons. If you cooked a bad stew or had a black farm cat in
More DiomedesThe evening was chilled, icy wind blowing through the trees above young Diomedes. The sun had just begun to dwindle behind the slight mountains behind him, the sky's purpling light the only source of brightness in the growing shadows. The orphan faced a creek with jagged rocks protruding from the velvety silt in the bed of the stream, his bare toes in the lapping water. With a decisive tuck of his hair behind one ear, he plunged a callused foot into the frosty stream. His face scrunched up in distaste at the numbness taking over his shin, but he continued to plod along, his pace moving as quickly as he dared in the current of the miniature river. A stone hidden beneath the mud cut in the heel of his foot, making him falter in his steps and fall face-first into the arctic liquid. The boy's head popped back up. He glanced over his shoulder before standing, eyes skimming the forest for any movement. HeMore Diomedes3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Re-try--Jeff the killer storyThe sky rumbled, its complaints going unattended as rain trickled from it. Thick clouds highlighted by sporadic jolts of lightning littered the atmosphere. The moon was lost in the storm, all of the stars hiding with it. The night brought on an unknown feeling of eeriness that rippled over the earth like the thunder snapping in the clouds.Re-try--Jeff the killer story3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Hidden by his hoodie, Jeff walked down the street, raindrops making little grey dots on his white jacket. He walked with broad steps, his hands hanging idly by his sides. Watered-down blood dripped from his hands, red stains coming out of his clothes with every sheet of rain. His hair clung to his body, finally getting a well-deserved cleaning. The seventeen-year-old kept his unblinking eyes on his feet, drops of water obstructing his vision as he strolled down the sidewalk. He was in search of a new neighborhood, of new victims. Lights on the horizon b
Brotherly Love c:Maks badgered me. "Tosya, where do you go at night?" he asked me one evening. Our temporary grandma had been put to bed already and Abbey and I were fixing to leave.Brotherly Love c:3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I closed my eyes in impatience and turned to him, taking a breath in to control myself. "It's best if you don't know, Maks." Every word that boy said was enough to send quivers through me now. The amount of stress I was under was constricting my self-control to a bare minimum. I didn't want to speak harshly to him, but sometimes sometimes I just couldn't help it.
"But I wanna know. I wanna come along," he said, walking after me as I started towards the door. I felt every muscle in my body tense up in irritation at that moment. Just the thought was nerve-wracking. We already had enough stuff I wasn't comfortable with going on that eveningthe last thing I needed was to constantly be wondering where little Maks was. I didn't nee
A Best FriendA good friend will be there for you when you cry.A Best Friend2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
A best friend will be there crying with you.
A good friend will keep your secret if you murder someone.
A best friend will have been your accomplice.
A good friend will let you commit suicide.
A best friend will be holding your hand as they jump in front of a train with you.
A good friend will mourn for you if you die before them.
A best friend will follow you.
A good friend will be at your execution to say goodbye.
A best friend will be in a second electric chair right next to you.
A good friend will say it's not a good idea to throw that explosive into the powerplant that's destroying natural habitat.
A best friend will count down to three, giving you the signal to throw it.
A good friend will ignore the fact that you kidnapped someone to torture.
A best friend will provide the chloroform.
A good friend will yell at your ex for breaking up with you.
A best friend will murder them
First Kiss ContestHe was just so...cute! Like a little sheepdog! His blonde hair fell in his eyes, ruddy cheeks indented with those adorable dimples. He had such an essence of boyish joy...at least, when we were kids. That's hardly the case now.First Kiss Contest3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It wasn't safe like it was when we were kids. It's all...anarchy-y. It's not safe for me to be alone anymore, not even while I sleep. So he insists, now a bulky 16 year old, that I sleep near him. Tonight, since it was cold, he allowed me to lounge against his chest. I was warmed by his body-heat and intrigued by the gentle rhythm of his chest rising and falling beneath me. His breathing was like a tender lullaby to me. He was so deep in sleep that the creases his face had taken on from scowling so much had actually ceased to exist. His olive skin was so smooth looking, I just wanted to touch it, to play with his stubble, to kiss his jaw and have him whisper little nothings in my ear in his
Dipper Goes To Taco Bell - CommentaryDipper Goes To Taco Bell - Commentary3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
MOTHER-OF-A-FUCKING WARNING, THIS FANFIC IS EXTREMELY DISGUSTING, HAS NECROPHILIA PEDOPHILIA GORE SHIT CUM SEXUAL THEMES AND A LOT MORE, THIS MAY ALSO AFFECT YOUR LOVE FOR TACO BELL AND GRAVITY FALLS
Viewer Discretion is advised
Dipper goes to Taco Bell Here we fucking go
It was a normal day in Gravity Falls, Oregon. Well, as normal as Gravity Falls gets, anyways. Dipper Pines was reading his book, and Mabel, his twin sister, was wondering what he was doing. Mabel pay attention he's reading a book
"Dipper, are you gonna keep your nose buired in that strange book of yours all summer? You gotta go out, have an adventure!" Mabel exclamd. EXCLAMD
"Not now," Dipper said quietly. "I'm trying to decode this."
He was looking at a cryptogram that said, "XSLFA QBE QXZL YBII". They must be quoting someone satanically Dipper was offically stumped. He could not figure out what it meant. And it seemd very mysterious to him. H A I L S A T A N
The Summons (Page 1)SLENDERMAN-The Summons (Page 1)3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
How to summon him: (This works better at night)
Go into the woods, and carve a circle into a tree and put and X through it. press your face gently against the tree and close your eyes. This may also be done on a blank wall with a thick permanent marker. (Turn out the lights)
Chant: Slenderman, Slenderman, all the children try to run,
Slenderman, Slenderman, to him its part of the fun.
Slenderman, Slenderman, dressed in dark his suit and tie,
Slenderman, Slenderman, you most certainly will die...
Then, turn around.
JEFF THE KILLER-
How to summon him: (Note this must be done in your bedroom)
Wait until midnight. Take a kitchen knife and go up to you bedroom (Make sre everyone in your house is not awake, close the door and make sure there is moonlight shining in your window.
lay down on the bed and cover yourself with the blanket(s). Hold the knife close to you, right above where your heart is. Close your eyes and Chant:
Jeff The Killer
Jeff The Killer
Jeff The Killer
I Lost My GlassesI lost my glasses.I Lost My Glasses2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I thought I left them on the table, but I checked and nothing was there except something sharp. I have terrible vision; everything is so blurry, I can't make out shapes.
I move through the house, feeling around. My wife must be painting the walls. I see dark shapes on them, and they're wet to the touch. It's so quiet it the house...
I step on something wet and squishy. I really wish the kids would not bring the pool toys in the house.
I look in the kids' bedroom and say, "girls, have you seen my glasses?" No response, but I can see a lump under each of their blankets. They must be sleeping.
I check the bathroom, but the lightbulb went out. I feel around, and my hand touches the counter. I hate it when the kids splash water all over the place. It's thicker though... soap?
I go into the bedroom and see my wife standing near the window. Of course I could only see her blurry shape cause of my terrible eyesight. I'm getting old.
"Hunny, have you seen my glasses?" She didn
Just a Fashion?Emo. We've heard this term for years. I don't exactly remember when it actually started, but I didn't personally hear of it until my sophomore year. All we had was punk and gothic, but now gothic and emo are completely confused with each other. And now I'm ashamed whenever people accuse ME of being emo because they don't know the difference. Not even Southpark knows the difference.Just a Fashion?2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
The problem is, emo is associated with "emotion," but a depressed emotion at that. When people think of emo, they think swoopy haircut colored black, black clothing with occasional stripes, plaid, checkers, etc., hate for the sunlight, hating EVERYTHING, and writing depressing poems... oh, and cutting yourself! This is the problem...
There are people who do all these things that are not emo. I knew a very popular girl in 8th grade, Courtnie (yes, with an i), and she confided in me that she cut herself too, showing me her marks. Mind you, this was your stereotypical preppy ditz that was pretty much better tha
Forgotten ALICEI've always loved Pokemon. All the games...and I've collected Pokemon cards ever since I was a little girl. My favorite game, out of all of them, was the special Pikachu, Yellow version.Forgotten ALICE5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
My aunt gave me a Gameboy Advance for my birthday, when I was about 5. With the gameboy, I got 3 games handed down to me from my cousins: Harvest Moon, Tony Hawk, and a Pokemon Yellow version.
First I played Harvest Moon, practically the whole time my relatives came to visit. I loved it, I played it for hours. Finally, I beat the game and I was bored.
I popped the Pokemon Yellow into the cartridge without a thought. The game started up with Professor Oak giving his speech about Pokemon. I named myself ADA and went on. The game progressed completely normally. No glitches, no hacks. Finally, I got the Pikachu you run into when you walk into the grass. When it asked me to name Pikachu, I immediately called the Pikachu ALICE. I've always loved that name.
ALICE and me were always together. Never once did I
Bagger LemSometimes Lem wondered how they saw him in the moments just before. An old girlfriend, an ex-husband maybe? Their mom or dad, or maybe a long-dead Army buddy. They saw what they wanted to. All Lem knew was the look on their faces when their gaze met his, when their minds told them he was something other than what he was. They always wore this beaming smile, an expression of damn-it's-good-to-see-you. They kept that look as Lem ripped their throats out with his teeth and slopped up the blood with his tongue.Bagger Lem4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He could tell himself they died happy, that the last thing they saw was the person they most wanted to see. It was comforting. He was lucky in that respect. Some of the others left theirs with looks of stark terror, or sadness. Lem never wanted to think about it.
He leaned back against the dumpster as blood steamed on his chin. His latest was in a heap at his feet. Some teenager, probably a runaway, selling himself on the street. He looked like hell even before Lem got hold of him.
Wild Vampire Chase I was twenty-two when I started chasing her. I'm thirty-two now, but still a few days shy of the ten year anniversary. She was my friend, the only one I had. She begged, pleaded to become one of them only to turn on the one who made her, killing him with one swift blow that tore his head from his neck. I, by her, was offered the gift of immortality, but saw that it might corrupt the mind, and tried to kill her, much as I didn't want to. She gave me something to remember her by before escaping. A small, curved scar on the side of my neck that was not intended to kill. A souvenir to always have with me. In the back of my mind, I'm glad she got away. I'm glad I didn't have to kill my friend.Wild Vampire Chase2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Throughout the years, I followed her narrow path of blood. She was careful, but left me clues. On purpose, it turns out. She left me some friends to play with sometimes. They weren't nearly as strong as her, so my playmates easily became fertilizer. At least they decay fast e