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Latest Stories

December 04, 2025
Horror Stories Alizah Zaidi

The Apartment That Remembers

Elias Trent signed the lease for Apartment 4B on a damp Sunday morning in October—one of those mornings when the sky felt heavy with secrets. He had moved to Hawthorne City for a fresh start, a quieter life, and an escape from the noise of the world. The…
December 04, 2025
General Stories Ben Macnair

The Silent City

John awoke not with a jump, but with a profound, unsettling lack of noise. Usually, Tuesdays in his high-rise apartment were an orchestral assault: the insistent moan of the sanitation truck, the 7:05 a.m. argument between Mrs. Petrovich and her potted fig…
December 04, 2025
Crime Stories Ben Macnair

The Shoplifter

The city was a bruise, the sky a bruised purple at dawn, bleeding into a sickly yellow by noon. Sarah knew its various shades intimately, mostly from beneath the hoods of stolen jackets or the weak, flickering bulbs of forgotten alleyways. She was a ghost in…
December 04, 2025
General Stories Tom Kropp

Shannon's Date

Recently I testified at a murder trial. My big brown Quarter Horse named Buster snorted and stomped his hoof with clear protest at the prospect of moving farther into the forest patch. It was a cool September evening with the sun slipping over the horizon in…
December 04, 2025
Crime Stories Tom Kropp

Astral Homicide Hunter

Scot put his back to the hall wall and shifted to see all three members of the football team as they approached. All three football heroes stood over six foot tall and weighed over 200 pounds. In contrast, Scot was short and only weighed 165 pounds. His small…
December 04, 2025
Flash Fiction Ben Macnair

The Mirror

Laura stepped into the pulsating nightclub, the bass thudding through her chest like a primal heartbeat. At 29, she had seen her share of wild nights, but tonight something felt different. The air was thick with smoke and neon haze, and the crowd swirled…
December 04, 2025
Crime Stories Ben Macnair

The Shoelace

The field was a tapestry of amber and gold, the dying grass whispering secrets to the wind. It was a beautiful place, usually. But not today. Today, it was a crime scene. And among the scattered debris of a struggle, a single, mundane object held a chilling…
December 04, 2025
Poetry Markus J

When Santa Comes Downunder

when santa comes down under- he would leave behind snow and thunder. he would cross scenic beaches of golden sand- instead of crossing an ice and snow covered land. he`ll would fly over dirt river beds dry- while constantly swatting away a fly. would he swap…
December 04, 2025
Romance Stories Anthony L

Mr Big

Scotty Biggs lived his life like most people. He lived in New York, in a small apartment above a little bodega that one of his friends still owns. His routine was familiar: wake up too early, make breakfast, hit the gym, work, go home, repeat. His friends…
December 04, 2025
General Stories Ben Macnair

Subjects

The air crackled with a synthetic euphoria, a blinding kaleidoscope of LED lights and projected confetti. Rex Sterling, a man carved from polished charisma and a thousand-watt smile, strutted across the stage of "The Gauntlet of Fortune." His voice, a booming…
December 04, 2025
Romance Stories Alizah Zaidi

Love In The Letters

There was something about the writing cabin at the edge of Windmere Lake that felt suspended in time. The locals said that the cabin had heard more confessions than the village chapel and held more secrets than the town library. It sat halfway into the woods,…
December 04, 2025
Crime Stories Ben Macnair

The Photograph

The air in the abandoned Jones house tasted of fine dust and forgotten dreams. Detective Miles Corbin pushed open a warped door, the groan of protesting wood echoing through the desolate silence. Sunlight, fractured by grimy windows, painted stripes across a…

I glance around and notice my mug of hot tea is gone. Not only that, there is writing on my message pad. I haven’t even touched it yet, it should be blank. I lean in closer and read “Help Me” in purple messy letters. I jump up from my chair. I’ve only been working at the playhouse a couple of weeks. Could this be staff initiation?  I sit back and decide what to do next. The last thing I want to do is overreact.

“Hee!” I hear the noise. I glance up at the basement door. I hear it again, a combination of a growl and a hiss. I get up slowly and walk toward the noise. “Hee! Hee”! I pause. I don’t want to open the door.  My hands shake. I can either open the door or run back to my seat and wait to see what happens next. I hesitate for a minute. Eventually I raise my hand to open the door. I yank it wide open.

Something jumps on me. What the hell is it? Pain, I feel pain, my skin burns.  A few drops of blood come out an ear or a nose. Is it my blood? The whiskers are blood-red. I grip a fistful of fur and throw the cat away from me. I think it’s a cat. It flies through the air and lands on the floor with a thud.

The cat is down for thirty seconds and gets up and bolts. I sit and do nothing for a full five minutes. My shirt has a couple of tears. My right hand, the one used to pry the cat, has little patches of blood on it. I see a couple of claw marks and scratches. I get up and walk slowly downstairs. I need to find the cat. Staff initiation is safe to rule out.

In the basement darkness has crept in. I turn on the light. The cat is nowhere to be seen, of course. I stand and wait. I hope the cat will magically appear.  I just want this nightmare to end.  Suddenly, I see the cat at the far end of the basement. Ironically the cat is posted right beside the emergency doors. It stares at me.

I have seen the cat roaming around in my neighbourhood. A tenant probably moved and left it behind. I was thoughtful enough to pick up a tin of cat food. But I forgot to actually give it to the cat. Ooops.

We lock eyes. A few minutes go by. No matter how long this goes on, I will not be the first one to move.  Suddenly the cat takes a step and then another. My heart jumps into my throat. My body contracts with fear and I can’t move. It takes a third and starts to pick up speed and charges me!

It lands on my throat and claws sink in. I try to pull the cat off but it clings as in life or death. I try to pull the cat off me again. This time I manage to pull it about a foot away from me. I stare into the eyes. They scare me the hell out of me. Suddenly, I feel weak; my knees are ready to buckle underneath me. Without warning, the cat swings a paw and swipes my left cheek. On impulse I drop the cat, for a second it’s in mid-air but quickly disappears. I look around and see nothing. My cheek throbs and is sore. I run into the girls’ bathroom. I want to see the damage. I see two slash marks on my face. I splash myself with cold water. I walk back upstairs to the desk. I sit for a couple minutes.

My eyes blink a couple of times just to make sure. This can’t be. What the hell is going on? The purple message is gone. My mug is right in front of me, filled with steaming tea.

 

END

Bio: A.J. Plum is new to writing and is just starting to explore different genres.

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