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Latest Stories

December 23, 2021
Horror Stories jyotika

The Accident

Sam receives a phone call, breaking sad news of his Uncle Ben’s death in a car accident. He immediately leaves for his home. He attends the funeral and tries to console his father who is deeply hurt by his brother's demise. He asked his Mom about the…
November 19, 2021
Flash Fiction Russ Bickerstaff


It’s the little things. That something was wrong. But he couldn’t figure out what it was. And maybe it was the bed and the direction it was amazing. There was a problem with one of the club shops in one hand. Maybe with the thread count of the sheets. Or…
November 18, 2021
General Stories Matty LibraWolf

Haunting Stories Of The Visionaries

On a snowy mistrustful night, a newborn Skully Doyle, who was fast asleep in his cot, his visionary confused himself getting abducted from a Demonic Apparition. A woman called White Widow owns a three-headed dog called Cerberus Trio. This woman was a Satanist…
November 12, 2021
Mystery Stories Glenn Dungan

Gosh Darn It I’m Wet!

Alright fine. Okay, so the rubber duck bobs in the water, ignorant of the vapor steaming from the pool and rising to the banisters and balustrades in the warehouse. It wears a yellow raincoat and holds in a cartoonish way an umbrella inscribed with the words…
November 12, 2021
General Stories Michael McCarthy


‘‘Whiskeeee!’’ She ducked as the chunky glass came flying across the room, minuscule droplets of the alcohol splattering her cheek. She’d become quite adroit at dodging his missiles. But she couldn’t avoid his booze ravaged rasp. ‘‘When I call for a whisky,…
November 05, 2021
Flash Fiction Benoit


Therese Synopsis Rich parents are not everything. Therese is alone. She gambles on marriage when the chance arises, and lands in court on a murder charge. Therese Bordeaux France, 1952 Therese is not normal. She's not fun and has no friends. She finds…
November 05, 2021
General Stories Lawrence Hartmann

The Quiet World

The Pennsylvania mountains surrounded the small car with majesty and grace. “When I die, scatter my ashes here,” said Roger, the driver. “Ok,” said Paul. The two were married, five years now. They had met one summer day at the Macy’s store on State Street in…
November 03, 2021
Crime Stories Benoit


Synopsis – Mistaken identity can be inconvenient, even fatal. I was still dizzy when they brought me into the office. Sharp suits meet hospital smock. Bloody. I could not hear much. The crash and concussion, no doubt. They were smiling, trying to be nice.…
November 03, 2021
Horror Stories Derek-Avery Patz

Movie Night

Here I text him. His profile notified me that he likes cheeseburgers; it’s our second date and Jumpin’ Jacks has the best cheeseburgers around. Gavin is the real deal, or so the twins say he is. Elizabeth and Alyssa are fixtures in this small shithole of a…
September 25, 2021
General Stories NT Franklin

Coming Home

While Rupert paced in the parking lot, a cool spring breeze went down the back of his neck and made him shiver. Or was the shiver from having to go into the boss’s office? He had issues with male authority figures, or so his last work-ordered therapist had…
September 25, 2021
Flash Fiction Sandeep

Space Age Agency

Today I want to write about a nice story about OutSpace Consulting Pvt Ltd. that hired me to work for a Space Age Aeronautics Frontier (SAAF). To create a new vehicle and technology for managing their database, missions, research and exploration endeavors.…
September 13, 2021
General Stories Kasimir Kozlowski

An Understanding

1 The sharp halogen beams of the Greyhound bus cut a swath of light across the white frozen tundra of the flatlands nearing a small town outside of Winnipeg, and the passengers are beginning to get a little restless. Henry also stirs to life. He’s been…

Do people who've gone insane recognize the changes they've gone through that got them where they are? What I mean to say is do they know they are going crazy? Are they helpless to the events happening to their minds? Or are they oblivious to the events, making their life an ever morphing horror movie? Both sound very intriguing, I don't think I could choose one way or another. I think the journey alone is an adventure worth experiencing. Which brings me to the paradoxical question am I sane? Conventionally no, but I understand this. This is why I will choose and not allow time or fate to make a choice for me.

I have an overwhelming amount of hate growing inside me, though I am not sure who the hate is meant for. I hate me, for allowing myself to be the butt of every joke and the punching bag for every degenerate and miscreant of my town. And I hate all of them, not for what they have done to me but at the end of the day, in their eyes I don't exist. How can someone who has lived here their whole lives, and taken so much abuse not exist. The mail man who broke my nose while in a drunken rage, didn't deliver my mail for three weeks because he didn't realize someone lived in my house. He thought it was abandoned. The mailman is my neighbor.

So today I load every magazine, And oil every firearm, I tie my boots tight and prepare to make them recognize me. Machiavelli proposed an interesting choice. Wether you want to be feared or loved. I lost the capability to love long ago. Today I practice fear.

As I walked out of my house draped with 2 pistols, a semi-automatic rifle and a 12 gauge pump shotgun, I was ready. When I made it to the street, I was startled by a man sprinting towards me like a rabid dog. Swallowing my fear deep into the pit of my stomach, I raised my Colt .45 caliber 1911 and fired at the man. The loud noise of the shot made me jump, so much so I almost dropped my pistol. So shaken up by the power of the pistol itself, I almost forgot to look at the damage done to the attacking citizen. The round had hit the man in his left elbow severing it from the joint, the rest of his forearm now hanging on by a small piece of flesh. In the 3 seconds it would have taken the man to reach me by this point, I had a full conversation with myself. How did the round not stop the man immediately? The shock from something like that would surly incapacitate anyone. I fired again hitting the man in his chest. The force from the round knock the man of his feet, yet the man was not dead. As my tunnel vision dissipates I can clearly see my surrounding, the fog of hatred made my senses dull. The man was disfigured, it looked as if he was mauled on the neck and face. I shot him a third time, this time in the head. He ceased to move any longer.

It figured, the day I choose to take the lives of my fellow town people, they had turned to zombies. This is the best conclusion based on the most current of events. At this moment I wonder if this is an hallucination; a symptom of my pending insanity. I continue onward. The noise of the three shots had drawn the attention of more living dead. Pulling the rifle off my shoulder I began shooting, aiming high in hope of head shots. Almost simultaneously from my right I heard screaming. And out of the corner of my eye I saw a young woman being mauled by the dead. She became a zombie immediately and started looking for her next living meal. I need to remember this! Walking the town I must have killed hundreds of zombies. It had seemed if I had killed them all. If anyone was still alive I would be considered a hero, if they saw what I was doing and how I saved the world I would be famous. I would be noticed. And maybe loved.

From where I was standing I could see a man sitting hunched over near the doors of town hall. As I got closer it was someone I knew and some what respected, he had a needle in his arm. A definite overdose. I kicked his foot and the man tried to move but was unable to get to his feet. With its arms raised he tried his best to grab me and try to make me his next meal. I decided to make this kill for mercy and not for my own personal gratification. I put the last bullet that I was saving for myself in the event of an emergency, through his head and removed the needle. From the door next to me I heard whispers. It sounded like people were hiding out waiting for the National Guard. One of the more desperate patrons inside opened the door to see if help was outside. It was my mailman. He asked who I was and if I was there to help them. He continued to explain how there were hundreds inside and the place was heavily fortified. As I walked inside and my mailman chained and locked the front door, I jammed the needle that was still in my hand into my thigh. Now I will show them fear.




My name is Thomas Berman, I have been a fan of horror my entire life. Horror for me is a way to live out my darkest and deepest fantasy. I encourage everyone to try to write and never let anyone tell you what you are doing is foolish or dumb. It is foolish or dumb NOT TO TRY. Life is for the living, do what makes you happy.



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