"Surprise!" The lights flickered on, and the balloons flew up to the ceiling. I jumped back, startled. A surprise birthday party! My grin reached both my ears.
"Oh boy! Thanks, guys!" I ran up and hugged my dad.
"That's alright, my boy. Look, there's your presents! Go open them, kid." I disengaged and rushed over to the pile of gifts. I ripped them open, tearing the wrapping paper into tiny shreds. The first one I opened was the best.
It was a dinosaur costume set of pyjamas. I immediately rushed to my bedroom and put them on, and ran back...
Through the files, there were instances going as far back as ancient Egypt. This creature had been in the human world for centuries. Amut, the Heart Eater, fated to consume the hearts of men who were evil and corrupt.
All across time the demon roamed, scraping its existence into the memory of mankind. But something was off about this log file in particular. 'Encounter Log No. 682-426-1991' it read. Where did this page come from, though? It was not in the database, nor in any files that had been scoured previously.
It had the normal redacted information for security measures,...
I tried automatic writing many times, all with obvious results, my inner self responding. However, last night something weird happened. The letter began with 'Dear Santa' which was no way in my mind.
The writing wasn't even like my own. Strange 'A's. Creepy.
Sissie, my twin left the room slamming the door, locking herself into the bathroom. She was gone for hours, eventually after a lot of banging and pleading she opened it and returned to sitting on the carpet, large bathtowel over her head, rocking back and forth, humming.
She is autistic. I knew what was wrong. She was...
There's somebody standing in the corner of my room. I have no idea who they are. I don't recognise the outline, the shape. I think the figure is a woman. She, if she is a she, is tall and slim, almost skeletal, like a witch. This thought scares me. I don't want to be visited by a witch, especially not the ghost of a dead witch. Which is worse? A live witch, with a wand and a broom? Or a ghost witch, with neither because she is no longer a physical substance? Would the live witch or the ghost witch...
The gate closed behind them. It was a screen door, really. The three stairs led up to the kitchen; they stood and talked for a few minutes. His hand brushed her neck, in his ever-so-charming way. She wanted to believe him this time, that this time he wasn't the boy who held scissors to her neck, or threatened her so many times before. She wanted to be friendly, and not kick him out that night in February. He was charming, and deadly. Forceful, and mean. With her ponytail in his hand, he covered her mouth, her parents just upstairs. His...
Green cover holds me. Oak Tree stands guard behind me. Sun warms me. Stream sings me to sleep. Sleep meets with Dream and carries me into the depths of Imagination where everything is what nothing ever was or will be.
It felt like the last night on earth, the last day of the world.
The truth of it was simply that it was the last day for the two of them.
She wasn't certain she could really pinpoint the day they ended, nor that she could really work out why they ended. It was as if she'd woken up one morning, looked at him (his back, how long had that been the way they slept, not even touching, two bodies in the same bed, not two souls in the same space) and realised that she didn't love him.
It hadn't...
I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "there'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead.
I suppose you want to know what happened. It was Geoff. In the bedroom with a vase. Not a very imaginitive death, really. But there you go. I went from a person to a statistic in the blink of an eye.
Dying is an odd sensation. Like when you're really drunk or hungover and the room spins when you sit up. It's just like that. I watched as he ran around wiping up the blood, hiding the...
We'd been here once before. Staring through tiny holes on a weird-shaped box staring down at the bustling city below us. This time is different. This time he tells me he's ending it. No, not with me, with his fiance of merely two months who he works with at a dive bar down South. Naturally, I thought his engagement the week of my wedding was ludicrous to begin with. A Sapphire instead of a diamond on the hand of a girl with striped purple hair. She wasn't his type.
I gave my condolences, I guess that's the right word, I...
The white sedan zipped down the city streets, passing cars frantically, horn honking. Inside, Mark Strickland sat behind the wheel, his knuckles white as he gripped it. "You're gonna get us killed before we ever get there," Mary, Mark's wife, said calmly as she reached out and gently held Mark's hand, making him ease up on the hand control which regulated the gas pedal on the car. Her other hand rested lightly on her protruding stomach.
"Sorry," Mark said as he slowed the vehicle down. "I'm just anxious." His eyes lit up as he saw the hospital sign and quickly...