Horror

The Uncovered
A sour stench lingered day and night anywhere you went and there was no breeze to grant relief from it. Only scorching sun and a vengeful heat existed now. All the doors and windows of my house were wide open and there were six fans buzzing in the living room where Grandma and I sat. Whatever room we were in, the fans came with us. I liked to place them in a circle and sit right in the middle on the floor. Grandma needed to sit in her chair though, her aching back and hips couldn’t handle the bare concrete anymore. I had four fans surrounding her, blowing right in her face. Her long white hair streamed behind her, eyes closed, breathing raspy and dry. She slept peacefully for someone who had been through what she had. She lost both her children, my mom and uncle. They had gotten sick during the first heat surge and there hadn’t been enough hospitals or doctors to keep up.
By Elis Wing 5 years ago in Fiction
Jherica
Jherica walked along the Interstate Bridge alone; the sound of broken glass crunching beneath her steel toed boots echoing across the water, a gas mask on her face, and a Glock 17 pistol strapped to her hip. Every vehicle around her had their windows smashed and contents stolen ages ago. Graffiti covered the bridge- some childish, inappropriate words scrawled along the cars, while the words “THE PLANET IS DEAD” were repeated across the concrete. None of this bothered Jherica anymore. This is not the first time she crossed this bridge, and if everything goes as planned, it won’t be the last.
By Alanna Finnie5 years ago in Fiction
The Final Chronicle of a Randall
A large, indestructible compound confines a large decaying city in darkness and despair. There is no sun nor sky. No bird song, nor breeze. No flora, nor fauna. It’s the skeleton of a city. Only ash, decay, and the shell of what life once was long ago. This is Mordenelle.
By Letters from Juliette5 years ago in Fiction
Isabelle
Humming. It’s the only noise I can hear as I struggle desperately to penetrate the abysmal darkness. I reluctantly begin sitting up, but collapse back onto the cold, musky ground; my legs shaking from weakness. My vision sharpens, and I detect shadows all around me; trees stretching their spindly branches towards me, swaying unsteadily as the harsh wind carries the young girl’s lonely song, haunting my ears. I try again sitting up, as I thrust my hands back behind to steady myself. A burning touch grazes the hairs along my arm while I feel a menacing glare observing me at this precise moment. Falling back to the ground searching through the blackened night, my eyes discover my stalker. A girl. I can’t tell much about her…she seems miles away. Unable to call out to the girl for help, my body shivers as the heat exits my body. An envelope resting underneath my palm engages my eye, wrinkled and battered from time.
By Laura Griffin5 years ago in Fiction
I love you
John removed the arm he had been using as a sun shield and shifted his aching head back onto his backpack. He took in a long shuddering breath; his eyes stung from tears. The faint sound of footsteps pacing below echoed in the silence. The fact that he had made it through another night didn’t fill John with appreciation anymore. One more day alive was one less with Holly.
By Clelia l portsmouth5 years ago in Fiction
The Director
“Would you relax? They caught him.” She shook her head. “I don’t think they have the right guy.” “Why not?” “This guy isn’t just a predator, he’s a showman. This thing isn’t just art, it’s theater to him.”
By Rena Mam5 years ago in Fiction
The Spinning Factory
No one could quite remember how long they had been on the bikes. Sweaty, skinny, musty bodies pedaling on angrily buzzing stationary wheels in the dark. Nor did they have any idea why they were pedaling.
By Brandi Self5 years ago in Fiction
A Door Inside.
The cities are to be avoided, especially for someone like myself with no interest in falling victim to the mutating power structures that have formed within them. Most smaller towns aren’t as bad, with a few exceptions.
By C. E. Hartwell5 years ago in Fiction
A Shroud of Blooms
Upon entering the emergency department, the first thing that hit me was the smell. Hospitals are known for strange smells, ranging from the alkaline smell of cleaning agents to the unsavory smell of vomit and urine. This odor, however, was distinctly foul and emanated from the countless rotting corpses that littered what remained of a large hospital in Atlanta. I pushed my mask tighter against my face (a mask I had smudged with toothpaste) in an effort to keep the stench at bay. Sometimes the minty aroma helped, but today it couldn’t prevent me from gagging. My plan was to find the hospital pharmacy and trauma bay to stock up on medical supplies. This was hospital number five within the past week, and I was slowly getting better at predicting where I would find the inpatient pharmacy relative to the emergency department.
By Jessica Simpkins5 years ago in Fiction
The Eaten
We’re almost there now. We walk through battlegrounds of disease and backlots and every other random happenstance of a place that’s had a run-in with death. It’s all in attempt to not get it. Boardings started a week ago to take us out of the community, it’s one of many that’s been run down by society’s most recent trend of a plague. The sky is grey and the air smells like gasoline whipping hard with the wind. We’re all indistinguishable silhouettes filing forward in a groggy mass.
By Zach Beacher5 years ago in Fiction
The Advent
“Man, it really is dark out here…” I spoke to no one in particular, there was no one there to talk to anyway. Just the small locket I’d retrieved from Emily’s… from Emily, hanging from the rear-view mirror of my car. The small heart-shaped trinket swayed slightly with the motion of the vehicle as the three of us careened down the empty desert highway in the middle of the night. I guess it’s four if you count the dog in the back seat, but he’s dead so I don’t normally count him. Actually, I only keep him because his meat isn’t half bad and I somewhat liked the dog when he was alive. “Good boy Leroy.”
By Thomas Hawkins5 years ago in Fiction
Shelter
Every day was torture before society collapsed. It felt like every minute dragged on as we all marched towards our doom, I became frozen by the fear. That was until I leaned into the fear and began making preparations. I spent every bit of money I had on building a shelter that could endure any amount of destruction that may come. I filled my shelter with provisions to last twenty years, hopefully that would buy me enough time to outlast the inevitable nuclear fallout that would come upon society's collapse. I lined the shelves with books, to keep me entertained and to educate me so I would be ready to be one of the leaders of the new world. I would be there to witness a fresh start.
By Ian Strong5 years ago in Fiction