It’s her.
I long for the coconut scent of her chestnut curls, but I still fear her when lips meet bottle.
She turns the corner.
Not her.
I do not know if I suddenly felt my world drop because it was not her or because I wanted it to be.
Marisa is a graduate of Providence College with degrees in psychology and theatre.
The door slammed. The baby screamed.
Karen could hear him crashing up the wooden stairs. The baby wailed from another room. “Please be quiet,” Karen whispered.
The door handle turned. She backed into the corner, her eyes never leaving the door. It swung open. She finally exhaled. It wasn’t him.
Jo Jenner is an accountant who has recently started writing short stories and is the process of editing her first novel. She lives on the south coast of England.
I feel my mother within me.
Father and brother watch for signs, indications of affliction, keeping their distance.
Mother loathes me seeing a female version of father and brother: perfect Christian, tormentor, captor.
I am tenuous middle ground, like all but unique. Neither pious nor pitiful, both sinner and saint.
PM Drummond is a full-time writer at heart who works 40 plus hours a week as an IT project manager for a large university. She has two short stories published and is currently working on a six book paranormal series.
The butler beckoned me to follow. He reeked of evil intentions, but I reluctantly moved forward.
When the lights flickered out, I spun around wildly until a bone chilling scream froze me with fear.
Then, with my heart pounding, I whispered, “Albescu?”
He didn’t respond,
…but death eagerly welcomed me.
Mrs. Lessard resides in Vermont where she aspires to be a published author someday. Until then, she is content to entertain her four children with her numerous creative tales.
Something was in the basement. She heard it creak and step and the stairs groaned.
Hand on handle; what lurked behind the door? She waited.
Nothing came. Creak, step, and groan. She twisted the knob, scared.
Nothing came, black, blank, void.
What was behind the door? Her mind was all.
As often as he can be Aaron Black is a freelance blogger and fiction writer. He spent ten years researching and writing a screenplay about Atlantis and now likes short stories because any more rejection letters from studios that made movies like From Justin to Kelly and Catwoman would make him bitter.
I covered my eyes, hoping I’d miraculously become invisible, like a child playing peekaboo, trying to deceive myself into thinking, “what I can’t see can’t hurt me.”
Neither worked. The creature that’d been chasing me for days was, despite my hopes, still fast approaching.
There was nowhere left to run.
Bernadette Woods is an English Literature student who in addition to writing as part of her studies also writes purely for enjoyment. When she is not busy writing she also enjoys both painting and photography, or essentially anything that involves creativity and imagination.
Certain facial expressions can instantly bring a lump into your throat. Certain phrases can tie a knot in your stomach.
“I hate to have to tell you this…”
“I’m really sorry, but…”
“Why don’t you sit down.”
Then comes a forever moment, shaped like all your deepest fears.
Take heart.
Kittens! Kittens everywhere!
It was terrifying. Mortifying. A nightmare.
She stifled a scream. Then she stifled a yawn.
The warm, cuddly kitten bodies, like a soft, purring blanket, lulled her, despite her best efforts, off to sleep. And as she slept, she dreamed about the tigers that ate her mom.
Cowering under a table, Lee listened and waited.
They were coming.
Lee saw their socked feet move through the kitchen, past her hiding place. They stopped outside her bedroom door…
…then flung it open, shouting, “Surprise! Happy Birthday!”
She stifled a scream, scrambled out from under the table, and fled.