I should’ve known something was wrong. What happened that night was fucked up, no doubt, and I had a lot to deal with, a lot on my mind. But how did I not notice something so obvious, something that was staring me right in the fucking face, WHAT THE FUCK […]
I grew up in a small, quiet town called Dureyham. Everybody knew each other, and there was a beautiful forest nearby in which I lived, in a wooden cabin. I lived with my father, my mother had died during labour. I had been forever pained with guilt at the fact
One morning my family and I went to my grandparent’s house in Mississauga. My sister and I always used to play in their large backyard which overlooked a sprawling ravine. I was especially excited today because my sister and I had planned a hike down the ravine before lunch. The
His room was quaint, containing quarters to sleep, a kitchenette and facilities. Simple, yet exceedingly modern, his room mirrored his personality near-perfectly; simple, open and inviting. It was the home of Tokiro Mitsuko. He sat on the foot of his bed and leaned back, remembering the events of the past
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January 21, 1922 I reached the farm just a few hours ago, and it is more than I could have possibly imagined. I knew as soon as I arrived that I had made the right choice. I was so uncertain about leaving the Thompson’s home; I had been there for
No one knew the secret spot where we as children played at night. The ashen moon, our only light, would greet us painted on the pond. The placid water, cool and black, would wash away the summer heat. The silty ground, cooler still, was soft and lumpy underfoot. Seaweed danced
The most beautiful creature I’d ever seen never seemed to close the curtains of her room next door. We’d only moved in a week before, but it was hard not to notice a girl like her. I don’t think she’d ever seen me, but that just made her that much
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I hate it here. It seems redundant to say so, I realize this. Everyone hates it here… well actually I don’t know. Maybe except Len, but he’s a freak so whatever. Shit… where are we? I keep forgetting. France? We’re still here? Shit, have we made no fuckin’ ground since
“Look at it go, sweetie!” the loving father joyfully called out to his little girl, pointing upward toward the kite flying high above the secluded beach. “Here baby, you try.” The little girl stood there shy, timid and melancholy as she stared skyward at the pale, flapping kite. This particular
When I was a kid, my family and I lived in a modest house in West Virginia. As I said, it was quite small and there was a large forest behind my house. I was pretty curious, as any small child is and so I’d always find myself asking to
Another chirp drifted into the room from outside. The window was open again. It hadn’t been ten minutes since Jacob had slammed it closed. He stared at it, into the front yard beyond where the grass had become an ugly orange-brown, and thought of how exposed he was. Anything could
I write this as an apology to those who are affected by my mistakes. I hope that you can find it in your hearts to forgive me, though I will understand if you can’t. My wife was terminally ill and, a few month ago, she died. I was very sad
The Neurocranial Exploits (a short story by Dniwara Redman) Crack one, crack two. There is now a visible tear in the flesh. The once wavy brown hair of Professor Emery is now tainted crimson with the blood from the open wound on his scalp. The smell of his apple-scented shampoo
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The night was dark. The only light emitted into the tiny bedroom was from the door that stood slightly ajar. The room was clean for a four year old little boy. There weren’t any toys covering the floor and no clothes thrown about the room. The little boy slept soundly;
William Grant is wandering through the avenues of Florence, Italy with his beautiful girlfriend named Isabella. They giggle to each other softly and secretly, passing under the ancient arches and crumbling cathedrals of the narrow and romantic street. They exchange passionate kisses and sly glances, and all passersby who see
I hadn’t done anything different that day. It started off very normal, in fact; I awoke to the blaring alarm clock. I brushed my teeth. I fixed a breakfast, and ate it. I kissed my mum goodbye and I dashed out the front door, swinging my backpack with me. I
“Cole Ryder. Age 23. Death by multiple lacerations to chest, reaching as deep as his lungs. Poor bastard looks like someone cut him open multiple times with a damned sword. No visible signs of struggle, indicating that he was either drugged before hand, or was hit unexpected.” the coroner recorded,
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There are few times in life when a man can admit that he’s afraid of a beautiful woman. Sure, the shyness of lust and romance may be one excuse, but the legitimate fear of her power, as small or infinite as it may be, is something very hard to come
A quarter after nine, right in the middle of Dad’s favorite game show, the sound cut off. I winced, but before he could say anything the set started buzzing and the screen changed, turning the dark living room around us a deep blue. “What’s wrong with the TV?” Dad said,
All the names – except J.J.’s – are changed, for reasons that should be obvious. I grew up in Royal Oak, Michigan, about twenty minutes from downtown Detroit. It’s one of those places where the people with money ran to after things in the city went shit-shaped. I went to
Prologue – Wendy Wendy ran as fast as she could. She had no time to stop at any of the houses that flew by as she ran, because she knew the darkness was closing in on her. Besides, this was all her fault, her grave mistake. She had allowed darkness
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A little girl sat in her room. Her messy brown hair was put into little pigtails, as her hazel eyes stared at the door. She hugged her stuffed giraffe close to her little body and listened closely to the loud yells of her father and mother. “I never should have
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I have to be brief, for I don’t really know how long I have until it finds me. My name is Daniel Lockwood, I’m a 20 year old British citizen and I’ve been living in China for the last 18 months. My Mother’s name is Deborah Lockwood. I am typing
The girl who pushed open the shop door was too young for the cane she leaned on. I examined her from under the brim of my dark baker’s boy cap. I sat in my tall swivel chair behind the counter, feet kicked up next to the register. Two knitting needles
