Category: Original Works

100 Word Story – Mother & Daughter (Part Finale)

The black bag quickly sank below the water’s surface, vanishing into the dark, cold trench beneath. We waited on the dock, watching to see if it would suddenly float back up. Five minutes passed and nothing happened, the water coming back to an eerie stillness.

“There,” I said, heading back to the car. “Like it never even happened.”

Samantha’s footsteps followed behind, a small distance between us. She started sobbing when we got back into our seats.

I wiped the tears from her eyes, giving her a small smile, “Don’t tell anybody about this. Got it?”

She nodded, “Yes, Mom.”

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100 Word Story – Mother & Daughter (Part Four)

Most of the car ride was in silence, me focusing on the empty roads while Samantha lost herself in the passenger side window, obviously deep in thought. I took a quick glance at her, seeing her let out a loud sigh.

“You alright, dear?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

“I’m still thinking about how I killed that man,” she admitted, whispering as if a stranger was nearby eavesdropping. Her hands were trembling in her lap. “Mom, I’m scared. I don’t want to go to jail…”

I reached over and held Samantha’s hand, consoling her, “You won’t. Promise.”

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100 Word Story – Mother & Daughter (Part Three)

“There’s nobody outside right now.”

I tossed my key ring to Samantha, and she caught it with both hands. “Go bring the car around. Back it up all the way onto the curb without driving on the lawn.”

Nodding, Samantha dashed back into the house and headed for the garage. Out on the front step of the house I looked up and down the streets, the cover of the nighttime sky protecting me from any unwanted attention. I put on a pair of plastic gloves and dragged the trash bag to the curb, seeing a limp arm fall out.

“Fuck.”

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100 Word Story – Mother & Daughter (Part Two)

“Mom, the blood isn’t coming up—it’s still sticking to the wood.”

“Keep using the paper towels, dear. Just get up what you can.”

Samantha grabbed the last few pieces of paper towels and did one large swipe across the floorboards. The paper tore, forcing her to toss it into the nearby trash bag.

“We’re out of paper towels,” she announced with fright. I heard her come running to me, in the kitchen. “What do we have left to use?”

I let go of the hacksaw, feeling its sharp edge stuck in the bone of the home intruder, “Bathroom towels.”

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100 Word Story – Mother & Daughter (Part One)

“When did this happened?” I shouted angrily. “I was only gone for five minutes, and this happens.”

Samantha was rushing to clean up the mess between us, the mop quickly soaking up the liquids on the floor. “I’m sorry, Mom,” she pleaded, her voice panicked. She rung the mop out in the small bucket next to the mess and continued cleaning, “I didn’t have a choice. The guy broke through the window, and I had to stop him.”

There was a giant red trail leaning from back in the living room to here.

I ordered her to get the bleach.

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100 Word Story – Worm Boy

“Five bucks says you won’t have the guts to eat that worm.”

Dean looked at me, then at the worm in the dried mud puddle. The worm was confused as it tried to bury itself in the dried mud. It eventually gave up and just wiggled around.

Dead was always nervous and freaked out by bugs and stuff, but when he heard money was involved he suddenly became brave. He pinched the worm up and asked, “Five bucks?”

I pulled a five dollar bill from my shorts pocket, “Five bucks.”

In one bite Dean slurped the worm like wet spaghetti.

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Legends of the Dark: Child at Play (Finale)

This was going to be the end of it, the end of Melissa. I never have imagined in my entire life that I would witness such a horrific thing, and have to be a part of it. Part of me wondered what would have happened if I never noticed her not coming into the classroom.

It all started when I saw her eating away at the squirrel’s body while behind that bush. So many of the other children play pretend back there, acting like a hiding spot for their little games. None of what I saw today could ever have been make-believe.

And I was the one who had to end it all, to end the life of a child. There was nobody else around, and my actions were exposed right on the playground. There’s no way they would have believed me when they came and found me staring down at a dead body.

Might as well go all-out.

What if the real Melissa was still aware of everything that has occurred? What if she was consciously aware of everything she’s done but had no control over it?

This whole event—seeing her hiding behind the bush, looking a the squirrel’s head on the ground, hitting her with the bat—everything felt like one long nightmare.

With that in mind I brought the bat up over my head.

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100 Word Story – Pizza

Tommy looked at the address listed on the pizza box: 15-90 Maple Drive. Making sure he didn’t miss it he slowly walked up the sidewalk, in the late-spring breeze, carefully reading off the numbers on every passing mailbox. When he found the one that was marked “15-90,” he walked up the cobblestone walkway and knocked on the door.

After knocking again, this time with more force behind it, the door slowly creaked open. He stuck his head in a bit, announcing “pizza delivery.” Still, no response from inside the house.

Curious, he took a step into the dark, empty house.

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Under the Bed

I didn’t hear him come in; he was completely silent. The only reason why I even noticed that somebody walked into the room was the creaking of the broken floorboards—he stepped right on the one floorboard that needed to be replaced. When I heard the loud squeaking sound, I rolled out of bed and went under it, squeezing myself in as far as I could.

“Where the hell did that little brat go?” he grumbled with anger. His heavy boots crashed into the squeaking boards with every step, obviously making himself present in the room.

He walked over to the bed and stopped. The front of his boots were covered in a red spatter, a faint smell of iron coming off of them. Fear overwhelmed me, my vision starting to get blurry and my heartbeat pounding in my ear drums. The urge to scream out for help again was strong, but I bit down on my mouth as a precaution in case I unknowingly did it. Please don’t let him look under the bed.

The boots stood there for a moment, just a few inches away from me. The man grunted and the boots turned around, walking to the other side of the room. My sight was cut off from the bed, but all I could see was up to his waist now. In one of his back pockets there was a small, clover-shaped charm hanging out.

He has my car keys! How am I suppose to get out of here now?

He started for the closet, his boots stopping right in front of the door. Just from hearing the loud snaps, I could tell that the door was suddenly yanked from its hinges and fell right to the ground. “Where are ya, girl? I’m getting real tired of looking. Come out now, and maybe I’ll go easy on ya.”

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Hoshige

Hoshige brought me out here to talk about something. I asked him what was the problem, but he just kept quiet, wanting to talk about it once we were isolated. He’s been acting strange the last few days.

I brought along a couple beers to help ease into discussion. Even though Hoshige and I go way back, he still has trouble opening up about certain things. When he told me that he wanted to speak in private, his face was rather tired and stressed out.

I hope his usual lifestyle didn’t finally catch up to him.

“Everything okay at home, Hoshige?”

“I wish everything was okay.”

Finally giving in, he sighed and shrugged, “Sorry. Thing have just been… strange lately.”

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100 Word Story – Scissors

My legs felt numb, absolutely no sensation whatsoever. I couldn’t even feel the cold sting of the shackles around my ankles. My brain commanded my toes to try and wiggle but got no response or movement. My breathing started picking up, my heavy breaths seeming to echo in my ears. My sight started going hazy, everything rocking from side to side. In the distance I could hear a pair of shoes approaching me.

I lifted my head up and saw a young girl coming to me, massive, rusty scissors in her hand.

“It’s time for your operation, Mother. Lie still!”

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Alcoholic Elfling

There was only one thing left that needed to be done. The more I thought about it, about the pain and ache it would bring me afterwards, the more my heart would try and convince me that this was the wrong thing to do. I looked down at the half empty whiskey bottle, waiting for its mind-numbing effects to kick in. It’s been more than an hour since my last drink and still I remember everything clear as day.

As I leaned forward to pick up the bottle by its thin neck, I smacked away the flimsy, glass shot glasses I used to portion out my drinks, “You’re useless to me,” I said to nobody in particular.

I looked at the remaining half-bottle of whiskey, its powerful fumes reaching the sensitive walls of my nose; just from the smell alone I could feel the burning stream of dark alcohol traveling down my throat. I shuttered. After a deep breath to help relax, I took a swig straight from the bottle, going back for two more before my gag reflexes kicked in forcing me to put the bottle back down on the coffee table. A chain of coughs followed the hot, burning string of fresh whiskey traveling through my body.

Repulsed, I looked at what remained in the bottle: less than a quarter of it was left. It was surprising to me how big of swigs I took. I sat on the couch and let some time pass, allowing the affects of the alcohol to kick in. Minutes came and went, nearly thirty minutes went by, and still no effect on me. I could still remember the events of yesterday in clear detail, from the very first words that were exchanged, all the way down to who was the last person leaving the dump sight and what they were wearing. I was able to even recall how many crows I saw flying overhead as we put or plan into action.

Anger took over as I picked up the nearly-empty bottle of whiskey and threw it in a random direction. There was a crash sound of thick glass shattering, but it was rather far way. Regardless of where it landed I was angry that its effects were not happening to me.

“Why the hell do humans purposely poison their bodies with this garbage? It doesn’t even work as it should!” I reached for the laptop hidden under the couch cushion and promptly turned it on. Finally understanding the general basics of these newfound devices, I managed to navigate the internet and researched for various videos of humans embarrassing themselves from too much alcohol. They all end up stumbling around, tripping over their own feet and somehow ending up with the face inside a toilet hurling away their insides. In a handful of them the person took one fall and didn’t get back up, magically falling asleep right on the spot. And the very next day, they all awoke with no memory of the night before.

They all had no memory of the night before. And they surely managed to suppress any memories while they were drinking.

Then why the hell wasn’t it happening to me? I acquired much of the strongest alcoholic drinks available for human consumption, and yet I feel not a damn thing. Why?

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