Tag: Horror

100 Word Story – One Shot

A gunshot. That’s all I heard. There was no screaming, no groaning, no cries of pain or suffering. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the sound of only a gunshot was the best solution to all of this. It would have only been a matter of time where we wouldn’t have a choice but to shoot him.

Andrea came back from around the corner, her head hanging low with a look of defeat. There was more blood on her jacket than before—some of it must have been Jared’s. She walked pass me without saying a word.

— Follow Luka on Facebook and Twitter for more content and a look into Luka’s life!`

100 Word Story – Love

A love has many meanings. Most tend to say love is about finding another person or being and having a growing passion and desire for them, wanting to see them improve themselves while creating an intimate bond. Love can also be wanting to raise something up and protect it as it goes through life, experiencing everything it’s capable of accomplishing.

For me, love is that burning feeling I get whenever somebody’s world crumbling is at their feet, tears raining down like a heavy cloud up above. I can’t help but smile at somebody’s suffering.

Isn’t pain so lovely to see?

— Follow Luka on Facebook and Twitter for more content and a look into Luka’s life!`

100 Word Story – Mage’s First

This was the first time I did it. It honestly wasn’t even suppose to happen like this, at least not this gruesome. I kept looking at my hands and at the corpse on the other side of the room. All of my senses seemed to come to a halt, with the exception of a hazy vision of everything around me; I couldn’t even hear myself breath.

But that didn’t matter. I didn’t need all of my senses to complete my work. I picked up my tome and walked to the corpse, its limbs cold and stiff.

“Awaken, my Dark Lord.”

— Follow Luka on Facebook and Twitter for more content and a look into Luka’s life!`

100 Word Story – Finger

It was just a dare. That’s all it was suppose to be—nothing more, nothing less. We were all in agreement that even though this dare was a bit over-the-top, it was going to happen.

Rob stuck out his hand while Sylvia got a knife from the kitchen. I grabbed Rob’s hand and started the “Knife Game.” It started off slow and easy, just like it should. But once a minute passed and I picked up speed, that’s when the first finger came flying off.

And then the next, and the next, and the next. I couldn’t stop myself anymore.

— Follow Luka on Facebook and Twitter for more content and a look into Luka’s life!`

100 Word Story – Red Handed

Most of the people were crying while the rest were struck with awe and wide-eyed. I honestly couldn’t feel any sympathy for them. If anything, the fact that I was there was their reason for still being alive.

Of course, seeing me covered in the blood of their loved one probably wouldn’t have help my explanation. I already knew that it would be a waste of time trying to convince them. Regardless of their ill feelings towards me I collected my things and began my exit of the bloody house. I tripped over a severed limb.

Onto the next possessed.

— Follow Luka on Facebook and Twitter for more content and a look into Luka’s life!

100 Word Story – Eyes

I can never forget the look in his eyes. It was probably the most hurt and sorrowful I’ve ever seen him. I just couldn’t look back at him—I had to leave him behind.

I tried to ignore the sounds coming from behind me, all of the screaming and cries for help, the tearing of human skin and flesh. It seemed no matter how far away I got the inhuman groaning followed. The only thing that broke that sound was my own muffled crying. If they heard me, I’d be dead like him.

I’m sorry, Henry, but I couldn’t help.

You Fool

It was all his fault.

He was the reason why everything ended up the way they did. If he had done as I asked, things would have worked out for the both of us. But because of his constant questioning and reasoning there was no other choice for my actions; I had to make sure that my slate would remain clean and without any blemishes. I had established my reputation after a long period of time.

“You fucking idiot,” I whispered as I looked down at him, our eyes locked in a never-ending stare. I inched a bit closer, noticing the darkened color of his once hazel irises, “Why didn’t you follow my instructions? Everything was perfectly planned out, and you ruined it.”

All of those months of getting everybody onto my side was now in jeopardy. All that time having to suck up to higher management and build a status for myself was on the edge of collapsing. Those countless days off overtime were almost for nothing. And Russell was to blame for everything going to shit.

Seeing him laid out on the ground beneath me, just lying there stiff as a board, I couldn’t control myself when my fingers caressed his still warm cheek. I moved his head from one side to the other and back, taking note of any suspicious marks and cuts on him. Outside of the normal cuts from a weekly shave, there wasn’t anything too visible. Except for the red marks around his now pale neck.

“We can’t let others see you now, can we? They’ll think something physical went down.”

Thankfully I had more than enough tools to deal with this kind of situation. I knew that learning how to powder my face would eventually have a more practical use.

With only a matter of minutes, I ran into the second floor bathroom and grabbed the small makeup kit inside the medicine cabinet. With the dusting brush in hand and an array of skin tones to choose from I perfectly blended a mixture of different powders to match the skin tone on his neck, a peach-turning-pale color. Just to be on the safe side, I started covering any kind of mark that would indicate some kind of struggle whether it was new or not.

“Beautiful.” I mumbled as I admired my work. The red marks around his neck were now artfully masked by makeup, now invisible to the naked eye. Thankfully the makeup was a new organic blends of cosmetics I’ve started using, which world mean it would be even harder for police and coroners to detect after a set amount of time. Better for me.

I took a few steps back and overlooked Russell and his stiffened glory. The one arm he had up trying to defend himself with was slowly descending to the ground. I sped up the process by carefully lowering the limb to his side, making sure rigor mortis didn’t fully set in yet.

— Follow Luka on Facebook and Twitter for more content and a look into Luka’s life!

Screwdriver

“Tell me, Mr. Hudson. What goes on in that thick skull of yours? You seem to the be type of person who lets their mind wander about all day and night. Or, perhaps you just do that to help you forget the worries and stressful nature of your daily life.”

Ezekial kept up his casual, back and forth pacing in the darkened room. Even with just a single, low-hanging light bulb in the center of the room, he could catch the glimmering of the various tools scattered along the ground. He picked up a small hammer, eyeing the light layer of rust on the top of the claw – the part that helps take out nails, “This could be useful. I should go through all my options first.”

Without looking behind him, Ezekial lobbed the rusty hammer over his shoulder. Before hearing the sound of crashing metal, the screaming of a man came from behind him. Ezekial’s skin hardened full of goosebumps as the man continued screaming for a bit longer; sobs and pleading started replacing the scream.

“Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you?”

Ezekial came to a sudden halt, “‘What have I ever done to you?’ You really don’t know why I brought you here? Are you that fucking dense?”

With his face buried in his hands, Ezekial took a moment to to breath, about to let out a scream of his own, but the only thing that came out was a loud, exhausted sigh. Part of him couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of this man’s mouth. It just made him more angry, wanting to put all of this behind him. However, Ezekial didn’t want to just finish his current job; he wanted to relish and enjoy the sight a bit longer before bringing it all to an end. He looked down in front of him and saw a broken screwdriver, the head of it gone, leaving a razor-edge point in place.

Ezekial juggled the screwdriver in his hand as he turned to face the man. Placed under the light bulb in the center of the room sat a wounded man, chained and bound by his wrists, ankles and chest. Gashes and bruises mark the marked the man’s entire body, blood tricked down and formed a small pool around his feet. Chunks of his grey hair are gone, like somebody has been dragging him by the scalp.

The man could barely keep his head up to look at Ezekial. His strength reserves were near its end, and he wanted to try and use whatever he had left to try and survive the torture he was expecting to happen.

Seeing the injured man put a strange gurgling sensation in the center of Ezekial’s stomach. It was a very familiar sensation he’s come to recognize after years and years of giving into his hobby. He’s managed to see a bunch of the people who he’s had conflict with in the past and managed to find closure. Today was no different.

He crept up to Nathan, the man bound to the chair. With his free hand, Ezekial grabbed him by a clump of his hair and forced him to look up. Seeing Nathan’s bulky neck, the broken screwdriver pressed against his windpipe, just moments away from piercing straight through it with enough force.

“Nathan Hudson. Born in September of 1972. Graduated top of his class in high school and got a full scholarship to Uni of Nevada. You had it all.”

“How do you know all of this about me…?”

Ezekial’s face was covered in a frown full of hate, “I have my sources. But don’t fret. You won’t be missed.”

— Follow Luka on Facebook and Twitter for more content and a look into Luka’s life!

— via Daily Prompt: Fret

Coroner’s Opinion

“What do you think happened here, Boss?”

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure myself. I’ve never seen anything like this before. And on top of that, the evidence found at the crime scene isn’t even giving us some kind of clue as to what could do harm like this.”

“Edged weapons could easily do cuts and slashes like this though.”

“These kind of slashes are too clean–there’s no way somebody could have tore through skin and bone so easily. Besides, the cut isn’t the only thing I’m worried about.”

“You’re talking about the strange, green liquid around the edge of where the limb was cut?”

“Yeah. It would be easy enough to say that it’s just splash splatter from something breaking, but the fact that it’s around the injury, it makes me wonder if the edged weapon was laced with something. I mean, look at it: it’s fucking glowing on a cold corpse. There’s no way this is something naturally occurring.”

“We’ll just have to wait until the fluid samples come back then, Boss.”

“In my twenty years of working as a coroner, I’ve seen countless kinds of cases where somebody was slashed to death. All of them were easily identifiable based on the depth of the stab wound and the puncture site itself. But to see an entire limb cut clean off and see a strange ring around it, I honestly can’t figure this out. I almost want to say that whatever did it isn’t even human.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is, we may not be dealing with a murder, but a hunter-prey thing.”

— Follow Luka on Facebook and Twitter for more content and a look into Luka’s life!

— via Daily Prompt: Luminescent

Wine-Made-Molotov

Nobody likes a person who’s always thinking that the world revolves around them, that everything they do is the real-life version of perfection. They’ll always try to convince others that they’re the one who’s wrong and will fight just to prove a false point.

However, there are certain people who have no good proof that they’re even usable or reliable. Their constant mistakes only drag on and make certain things more difficult than it should be. And the person would even continue and try to say that they can do wrong.

When faced with the wrong person, the perfectionist will be faced with the result of their self-centered ego.

Something like that doesn’t take priority at the moment. Somebody else can take care of it.

The sounds of papers shuffling echos at the end of the aisle as he carefully turns around to avoid hitting the wine bottles organized on the wall rack. The bright ceiling light illuminates the thick, bushy facial hair hanging from the bottom of his chin.

Every time I see this mother fucker, I just wanna punch him straight in the face.

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Monster Madness – Youngster by the Dumpster

Happy March Monster Madness, everybody! I hope your March has been going well.

I kept my promise and will be posting mostly monster related stories throughout the month of March. And even though this is just the first one, I still have enough time to pump out some more stories for your hungry eyes!

To kick off our Monster Madness, I decided to keep it a bit simple. Our story involves a high school girl heading home, when she decides to take a shortcut through a dark alleyway. That’s usually never a good sign.

What do you think is going to happen? Well, continue reading Youngster by the Dumpster to find out!

Enjoy!

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Playing with the Dead

May the passed rest in peace. Thy has no right to disturb those from their eternal slumber. Restless souls will rise up and roam through the gates of purgatory and seek vengeance on who desecrated their resting place.  

One’s intentions may be pure and without malicious intent. However, that would make one look like a fool in the eyes of the dead. 

“Conjuring up spirits isn’t something we shouldn’t even be thinking about!”

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