Tag: Suspense

Break-in in the Outbreak

She kept her eyes on me as she reloaded the shotgun one shell at a time.

“Now, hun,” she began, “why in all hell should I begin to believe anything that’s been coming out of your mouth, especially after finding you trying to fit through my bedroom window?” She came to a halt with the reloading, twirling the next shell between her fingers.

“I take it you don’t pay attention to what’s going on outside, do you?”

“Oh trust and believe me, I’m fully aware of what’s going on in them streets—” she stops mid-sentence and, in one quick and fluid motion, reloads the next shell in her hand and cocks the shotgun, “—and I know how to deal with those things roamin’ in the streets.”

I felt a cold chill travel down my spine when I saw her cock that thing with just one hand. And on top of that she did it all without even having to look down at the gun on her lap. The entire time, her piercing gaze was right on me, trying to look into my mind to see if I wanted to harm her.

“So, Goldilocks, you gonna explain yourself? Why did you break into my home?”

Considering my current situation, I figured talking would be a good way to try and pass the time. “I suppose I should. Honestly, the main reason I thought about coming to this house was because I thought it was deserted.”

“What made you think that?”

“Well, your windows weren’t bordered up for starters, which explains how I managed to even get into this situation. On top of that, all the lights were off, so I figured electricity had ran out here. I honestly thought the house was abandoned.”

The woman kept her eyes on me for a bit, almost trying to size me up from my spot. After a solid minute of eye contact she placed the shotgun on the cushion next to her and got up from her seat. She walked over and crouched down in front of me, grabbing at the thick rope that bound my feet, “If I got rid of this rope, you won’t try to run away, will you?”

I lifted up my wrists to show the other set of rope she used on me, “I promise. Besides, I can’t really do much with my hands tied like this.”

She looked at me one more time; I tried not to blink just in case she read my eye moments as a sign. After a moment of silence she unbound my feet and collected the rope in the back pocket of her jeans. I thanked her, finally able to feel the blood rush back into my feet. She nodded as she went back to her seat.

She reached behind her and pulled out a small pistol, taking out the magazine and counting the bullets already in it. Her voice was a bit more rasp, but had a sensitive tone as she spoke, “A youngin’ like you shouldn’t be alone in these times. You’ve got no family lookin’ after ya?”

I shook my head” Use to.”

“What happened to them?

“The outbreak got to them before I could.”


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100 Word Story – Behind Locked Doors

There was a knock at the door, a frantic knock. I didn’t bother even moving from the small corner I managed to squeeze myself into. There was a brief pause before the knocking continued, this time lasting for a minute before another break. Instead of knocking again, whoever was on the other side started trying to turn the knob.

A grizzly voice grunted on the other side, “Shit, it’s locked.”

It’s him, it’s really him, was all I thought. All of those days, those memories of silent suffering, were about to finally end.

I pulled out my revolver and aimed.


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100 Word Story – Buried

I left the shovel stuck into the dirt, letting my foot rest on one of the edges. I unrolled the sleeves of my blouse, ignoring the red strains and dirt caking my palms. I took a moment to look over the last few hours of my work, realizing the striking pain in my spine.

I could hear my entire back crack free of stress when I leaned back, “Jesus, that felt great.”

I brought my chest back up, fixing my posture, and looked at the dirt in front of me. I still had work to finish: hiding my husband’s grave.


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100 Word Story – Ghostly Investigation

I had just four days remaining, and I’ve barely made any progress since the last update. Nakamura went away on his business trip, but he left behind a few noteworthy places that I could float around for more clues. The only bad part is now I have to possess somebody entirely different—a complete stranger.

“Fuck.”

Just the thought of it made me feel guilty about my newly acquired talents. I’ve taken possession of Nakamura only three times, but he was willing to do it. But regardless, I had to do it.

I needed to find out who killed me.


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Legends of the Dark: Child at Play (Part One)

That’s not a normal child. Children are always running around playing some kind of made-up game. Children laugh and have fun making new friends and having new experiences. Seeing a child barely interacting with others is a big disheartening, something not normal.

But what I saw that day… What I saw was anything but normal. It was horrific, graphic, bizarre–something a child shouldn’t be doing.

She can’t be a child, she just can’t be!

Legends of the Dark – Cellar Chills

Yukiko felt the blood tricking out from her arm, ignoring her nerves screaming out in pain—her hand still had a tight grip around the pair of scissors. Her hair, flipped over and hanging down like a curtain, blocked all sight of her face, forcing her to watch the ground as she inched down the dead-end cellar. Her fingers started getting anxious, twirling the scissors around one of her fingers.

Her breath came out as thick mist as she spoke, “You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting to do this. I never actually tried this out on somebody.”

The young man couldn’t control the shivering that wrapped his entire body, partly from enduring the bitter bite of the fifty-eight degree cellar, and from the overwhelming fear that ate away at him. Even though he didn’t sustain too many injuries to cripple his ability to walk, his legs violently shook and made him come crashing back to the titled flooring anytime he tried to get back on his feet. The only thing that kept the small gap between him and the approaching woman was him clawing at the ground, trying to pull himself back further and further down to the other side of the cellar. He was afraid to try and look back behind him; he was afraid that if he looked away, the woman would vanish and take his life without even being seen. He would soon realize that he trapped himself in a corner.

The woman, Yukiko, continued spinning the scissors on her finger, her mind focused on the situation at hand. She lifted her head, sweeping her hair to the side, allowing just her right eye to be visible. Bloodshot, it rapidly darted around to get a complete scope of the hallway: windowless, freshly painted white walls, and a single vent in the ceiling. The faint humming a central cooling unit came from above. Every now and then the heel on Yukiko’s shoes would come down hard and echo.

“Aren’t you glad that I finally decided to come talk to you, one-to-one?” Yukiko asked, her voice calm and relaxed. The scissors spun at incredible speeds, eventually coming off of her fingers and went flying straight down the cellar, passing just inches away from the man’s cheeks, and wedging into the back wall. She saw the reaction in the young man’s face, his eyes widening, and his body locking up. Yukiko felt a smile crept across her face, “What’s wrong? You’re acting like you’ve just had a near-death experience.”

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.”


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— via Daily Prompt: Fret

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.

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!

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!”

Story Preview: Kazumi (Working Title)

For those of you who read my little sum-up of February so far, you saw this coming. For those who didn’t it’s just a bigger surprise!

As promised, here’s a sample of the story I was working on before I became sick. Feel free to leave your opinions and ideas in the comments or email them if you’d like. All feedback is appreciated!

*****

“Hmm. I have a feeling that the main character is going to be put through something that will require him to sacrifice something. That’s how the plot seems to be leading itself.”

The tiny girl flipped the pages of her obviously over-sized novel. In comparison to her tiny body the book could have acted like a small divider that protected everything below her neck. Book propped up against her legs and her narrow fingers traveling along as she read the words Violet carefully read her novel: The Unfortunate Life of Mr. Takeshi. Those who knew about that book we’re at least the age of twenty-one, legal adults who wouldn’t dare pick up the book unless they wanted to have nightmares for the following month.

Young Kazumi kept her excitement for such horrors on a tight leash as he eyes darted across the aging pages. She was the sole collector of the unedited edition before it was released for a general publishing first edition.

As she lost herself in the vivid description of graphic gore, shredded limbs and torn body parts Kazumi had to constantly regain her immersion into her horrific novel after hearing all of the other children running around and having fun.

Kazumi tilted her head to the side to see the dozens of children running on the playground, “What’s so fun about running around a yard and screaming your head off? If anything, you’ll just get a sore throat and a headache afterwards.” She hid back behind her book and let out a disappointed sigh before continuing her reading.

Kazumi was obviously different from the rest of the elementary school students. While most of them enjoyed burning out their absurdly high amount of energy, jumping across imaginary lava pits, playing fake gun wars with their fingers, or just climbing across the massive jungle gym like actual animals, Kazumi would prefer to find the darkest corner of the sun-lit playground and read horror novels aimed towards older crowds. Kazumi had purposely made herself the “black sheep” of the entire school, but it allowed her to avoid unnecessary conversations from other students.

However, seeing such unusual behavior caused her homeroom teacher, Mrs. Honomura, to call her parents in for a one-on-one meeting. It was futile as her parents approved of Kazumi’s high desire to read, regardless if it was a children’s book or a violently graphic novel. They were just happy that their child actively wanted to read.

Nonetheless, Kazumi thrived in her alone time.

Today, as she read about her favorite main character having to choose between losing a leg or an arm, a group of children on the playground thought it would be a good idea to disturb her daily reading ritual. Many of the school children felt like Kazumi was unusual, almost like she was a robot sent into spy on them like their imaginative playtime sessions. In their sessions robots possessed supernatural reflexes, able to dodge anything within a matter of milliseconds.

To see if she really was a robot, one of the fifth-graders grabbed a red rubber ball and launched it with all of their strength. This particular fifth-graders was known for hurting other students during a game of dodgeball: he was rumored to have knocked out an entire row of teeth from another student who got hit in the face with a ball. With a quick wind-up the student launched the ball with all of his might, his target seemingly unaware of the red sphere flying towards her.

It took no more than a second for the ball to travel across the playground. Right as the ball was about to crash into Kazumi’s book it came to a sudden stop. The only thing is, nothing caught the ball nor did it hit anything: the ball was suspended in mid air. Confused about if they should be scared or amazed the children kept their eyes on the ball to see what would happen next.

Noticing the sudden silence on the playground Kazumi put the book down and immediately saw the dodgeball just a few inches away. However, from her point of view, she could clearly see the reason why it never hit her. Her eyes darted up Kazumi saw a familiar arm extending out from over her head.

The arm was muscular along its entire length, veins lightly protruding on the forearm. The skin was an unnatural color, an off-gray color with faint hues of blue patches. The hand tightly gripping the ball was large and had talon-like fingers that could shred anything to strips within seconds. The hand occasionally squeezed the ball like a beating heart.

To many, seeing something so dry, so dead-looking would throw them into a fit of panic and fright. For Kazumi, she knew the body that the arm was attached to and felt no such fear. She didn’t have to look back to see who was behind her.

“Thank you, Ogaki. I was just finishing up this chapter when that ball was thrown.”

Kazumi brought her attention to the group of students bundled together across the playground. They’re still in shock about the ball, but she could see a growing fear in their eyes; she knew that they were unable to see “Ogaki,” but that was only because Kazumi didn’t want to cause an uproar as it would further disturb her reading.

“Throw the ball back, Ogaki,” she said as she picked her book back up and went back to her reading.

Following the young girl’s words the arm gently tossed the ball back across the playground. It quickly fell and went rolling along the gravel ground. The other school children didn’t dare touch the ball, thinking there might be something cursed on it. After a moment of complete silence one of the children breaks out in a sprint, screaming at the top of their tiny lungs. Many more follows behind in the same manner.

Kazumi took one last glance at the other school kids, “Idiots.”


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Catsuit Yakuza

It’s always a deadly game when wanting to rob somebody or something. There’s always the chance of getting caught and being thrown in jail to serve time behind bars. However, if one is able to get away with such an act, they can live a life of luxury and knowing they’re able to fill their pockets without getting caught.

However, if one of those places that’s being robbed turned out to be a den of a notorious and violent gang, it would be a better idea to hope that you don’t end up dead should you get caught. Even then, who would be stupid enough to even attempt such a foolish act?

Those who don’t have a choice.

“Hiro,” Masane began speaking, “what do you think this man’s reasoning is for breaking in? Think he’s in debt with another clan? Wanted to support his family?”

She crumpled up the lottery ticket, “You’re taking too long to answer. I got tired of waiting. Somebody hold him down.”