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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…

“Slow down!”

“Why?” said Pete, easing his foot off the accelerator slightly. “It’s three o’clock in the bloody morning. The coppers are asleep. Gimme that bottle!”

“It’s dangerous,” replied his long suffering girlfriend, Kelly, before reluctantly handing him the bottle. She was used to his penchant for speeding and criminal disregard for safety. An urgent reminder in the form of loud verbal abuse was usually all it took to bring him back into line, even if it never lasted very long.

“It’s so dark,” she said.

“It’s night time, stupid!”

They always travelled at night. In fact they did everything at night. She didn’t really know why, it was just the way they were. Living a life of occasional highs under a smothering blanket of darkness.

A sign appeared on the left of the narrow highway, shining briefly in the unearthly glare of the headlights. Kelly read it out loud in a tone of forced interest, as she often did, mocking Debra Winger’s senile father in Forget Paris.

 

Welcome to Hell.

A New South Wales tidy town.

pop. 653

 

“Wanna spend a night in Hell honey?”

“Why don’t you drive right on through to Heaven instead?” said Kelly, trying to sound flippant. She had never felt more afraid and it wasn’t just the name of the town.

A shadow moved on to the road ahead, and stayed out in front of them for a few seconds. Then it disappeared. Did she imagine it? It returned, quickly growing as though inflated by an invisible compressor, and began to form into a ragged sphere. What was it? Could Pete see it?

She pointed but Pete was already looking, straining for a better view.

“What the hell was that?”

He flicked the high beams off, then on again to see if it was a trick of light. No trick. The shape grew larger still and was soon joined by another, then another.

Pete gripped the wheel in panic, his blood starved hands shared a ghostly luminescence which shone on his face but he did not slow down.

“Is it an animal? I can’t see. I can’t tell!”

Kelly was frozen, suffocating behind a mask of awful terror as she watched a third shape ooze up from underneath the road. The three things maintained their speed and kept themselves just in front of the car before suddenly merging into one. The new shapeless entity was bigger than the car.

As they stared in dumb horror, a huge misshapen head extended from the centre of the black formless mass, followed quickly by two arms, then two long and powerful legs.  It was running!

Kelly screamed as it turned to look over its shoulder at them. Accompanied by a wide toothless smile, two bloodshot eyeballs floated in a sea of torn flesh, gawking mischievously.

Madness gripped Pete, insane fear drove him to press harder on the accelerator as the monstrous apparition turned its whole hulking frame to face them. Still running, backwards now, it laughed at them.

“I’ll kill you, get off the road, I’ll kill you!” roared Pete.

“I’ll kill you, get off the road, I’ll kill you!” mimicked the beast, its disturbingly deep and raspy voice amplified inside the car.

In the same instant that the running creature put up his open palmed hands and stopped dead in the middle of the road, the car crashed into a tree and split in two. Flung like worthless trash, the twisted halves of metal and plastic sped through the cold night air in opposite directions, carrying human debris with them.

 

The crumpled bodies of the young couple were discovered the next morning, on either side of a sign post which stood like a sentinel in a grassy field. The doctor rose from his knees and nodded to the police sergeant who pulled a blanket over the face of the woman. He looked at the sign and sadly shook his head as he read.

 

Welcome to Hell.

We have two graveyards and no hospitals.

Please drive carefully.

 

D.A. Cairns is married with two teenagers and lives on the south coast of New South Wales where he works part time as an English language teacher and writes stories in his very limited spare time. He has had 17 short stories published (but who’s counting right?) Devolution was his first novel and novel no.2 is currently seeking an agent or a publisher. Anyone interested?

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