Tag: Suspense

Trash Bag

I was tired of hearing is constant complaining , his insistent pestering about the most minor things around the house. The longer I was stuck with him, the more I could feel myself going insane.

Tonight was the night that I finally snapped. He came down to the kitchen after showering, complaining that I was still cleaning up in the kitchen instead of meeting him in our bedroom. He was so bother that I wasn’t waiting across the bed, waiting for him to defile my body again, that he actually didn’t care that the kitchen was dirty.

That was fine. The kitchen was about to be dirty again. This time, he was going to be the one who left behind a big mess.

Pages: 1 2

Legends of the Dark – Home Improvement (Part One)

It’s only been about three weeks since we started remodeling the house, and I feel like we’ve made some good progress so far. At the rate we’ve been going, we could probably finish this ahead of our predicted complete date. 

Today, Darren and I are on, both of us investing the most money behind this entire project. The entire house looks like it’s been bombed from the inside-out, but that just means we’ve been putting in all of the effort needed to get this project done.

When we first got there, I looked at the front door and saw a giant slash across of it. This must have been what Darren was talking about before.

Exposed support beams, wooden planks nailed around on almost every wall, and glass windows only being shards around the edge: the common sight of home flipping.

It started to make me think that there were probably a bunch of walls still intact that I could swing at for some fun.

I could hear footsteps coming from nearby. At first I assumed they were Darren’s boots, but I realized that they couldn’t have been.

Pages: 1 2 3

100 Word Story – Mannequin

Something wasn’t right about this mannequin, something felt off about it. When I flashed my light on it, I noticed the extra details along the entire body, small dark spots and faint bumps all over as if it was alive and cold. I cautiously walked towards it, the old floor boards seeming to make it wobble with every step I took.

Up in its face—if it had one—I looked over every inch and saw thin lines all over, each in different spots where facial details should be: eyes, mouth, nose, the works.

“What the hell happened to it…?”

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

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

The only thing between me and the demon in a child’s body was the school jungle gym, a couple feet of concrete, and a wooden bat ready to swing. Melissa’s entire mouth was covered with bloody drool, her body contorting back to a spider-like shape. She growled, hungry, wanting to dig her fangs into me.

I wasn’t going to give in, wasn’t going to throw my life away. As much as I wanted to try and save her from whatever was happening to her, the only way I could do that was to put her out of her misery, put her down like a sick animal.

And from the way she was looking at me, I had no regrets for thinking that way.

Melissa’s body cracked and snapped as she positioned herself back onto all-fours. Her monstrous growls continued, stopping once to cough something up

My fingers instinctively tightened around the bat as I went to wind up. I wasn’t going to let this monster out of my sight, and I had to make sure she never got a chance to try and escape.

“Come at me, you little bitch.”

Pages: 1 2

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.”

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

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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!

Pages: 1 2

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.”

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

— 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.

Pages: 1 2 3 4