Steps creaked. The house was foreboding.
I wouldn’t have come, but my brother said She would meet me here.
As I rubbed the dirt aside to peer in the window, a bloodcurdling screech sounded behind me. Adrenaline shot through me. I jumped and whirled, fist connecting.
My brother lay unmoving.
Trina Krieger is an artist struggling to write her memoir. When the process gets overwhelming, she writes urban fantasy instead.
I want tiny singers like Mothra had.
They would accompany me invisibly and appear at crucial moments in my life, with their haunting angelic voices twining together, lifting to the heavens, bringing down a meteoric rain of fire and stone upon my enemies, and then gently singing me to sleep.
Kenny A. Chaffin
writes poetry, fiction, and nonfiction, and has published in a variety of magazines. He grew up in southern Oklahoma and now lives in Denver, CO, where he works hard to make enough of a living to support two cats, numerous wild birds, and a bevy of squirrels.
James was running, faster than he ever had before. The thing (whatever it was) was in hot pursuit. A cold icy hand grabbed his shoulder, sending a deep chill down his spine. James could see the end. The beast brought him down.
Finally he knew what it was.
Luke Tamblin is 11 years old and enjoys mountain biking, climbing, and skiing. His favourite food is pizza and he loves to read!
My eyes snapped open. Where was I? Taking a few paces forward, I felt twigs snapping under my feet like bones of an old corpse. Looking down, I suddenly realised that there were no twigs, only bones and flesh.
Letting out a petrified scream, I knew my time was up…
Xander Armstrong is 11 years old and enjoys swimming and playing chess, cricket and rounders. He loves correcting teachers’ spelling! His favourite authors are Roald Dahl, J.K Rowling, Jeff Kinney, and David Walliams.
The beast resided under the bridge that was his captive,
Destined to frighten all who passed.
He longed to feel the warmth of another creature besides the blindingly beautiful sun and dance with someone other than the cold bitter wind.
Footsteps sounded from above his home.
His roar was heard.
Holly Coombs is a high school student with a passion for writing and an opportunity to share it.
The closet was dark and musty. He wished he could spend his time in the parents’ walk-in closets, instead.
The kid started snoring. The sooner he scared him, the sooner he’d get paid. Then he could worry about paying rent.
Too bad his place was no larger than a closet.
Nathan Hystad will be published in an upcoming Anthology called Malevolence: Tales from Beyond the Veil, coming soon from Tickety Boo Press.
The girl ran. The girl shouted, “Mother! That radio! It’s ea… Ahhh!”
The mother ran. The mother shouted, “Husband! That radio! It’s eating my… Ahhh!”
The husband ran. The husband shouted, “Max! That radio! It’s eating my fam… Ahhh!”
Max yawned. Max farted. That awful radio said, “Bye, doggy doggy!”
Madeline is almost ten. She likes reading, drawing, writing, and learning new things. Madeline hopes to be a scientist.
Wake up! It’s coming for you. Leave quickly, through the window if you can.
A slimy tentacle forces its way under your door. It wraps itself around your leg as you try to run.
You’re pulled through the door, down the hallway, into the basement.
I tried to warn you.
LB Thomas lives in Montana and owns a Tennessee Walker treeing coonhound named Zumbi. His work has been featured in Every Day Fiction and Flashes in the Dark.
“You’re a naughty boy, Dr. Frankenstein, leaving all those body parts on the floor for me to trip over. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you wanted me to trip and kill myself.”
“Then you’d better count yourself lucky I’m building a car down here and not a monster.”
Connell Wayne Regner wrote this story as inspired by Alex Sinclair’s The Disgruntled Housekeeper. Connell’s other dabblings can be found at paragraphplanet and wtdmagazine.wordpress.com.
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.