Big Gerald wanted to show Little Jerry that there were no monsters, so he locked his son in the basement.
An hour later, Gerald let Little Jerry out. “See? No monsters.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy, there is a monster. It’s very hungry!” Little Jerry sobbed. “I told it you were bigger.”
Harry Demarest wrote this story. The first draft was 1836 words.
First-grade bedtime. Lights are out. A coat-draped chair turns into the mummy watching my bed. Malfunctioning WiFi turns the nanny cam’s playful green light into the red-eyed demon watching me, too.
The wee, perilous hours of the night require defensive weapons of choice: a blanket pulled overhead and Duracell flashlight.
Darnell Cureton is a middle-aged man at the crossroads of life, expressing his personality through technology and creative writing.
“The boogeyman isn’t real,” was the last thing my dad said before I shoved him into the closet and slammed the door. I plugged my ears and sang “la la la” until he stopped screaming. Of course, I felt bad later, but nobody talks about my best friend like that.
Larry Hinkle is an advertising copywriter living with his wife, two dogs, and a cat in the suburbs of Omaha, Nebraska. When he’s not writing stories that scare people into peeing their pants, he writes ads that scare people into buying adult diapers lest they get caught peeing their pants.