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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

Write a story about a character who can’t tell what’s real and what’s not.

Posted in Horror on Oct 31, 2022

Submissions are closed

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✍️ 80 stories

“Man with Hat” by Michał Przywara

Submitted to Contest #167

Everything went downhill after I murdered Vic Tornado, and then it all got worse when he came back to life.I’m reminded of it every time I see that dunce’s name, like right now, fluttering on a banner across the street. They’re opening the Hilldale Mall today, with an old-fashioned ribbon cutting ceremony. “With Special Guest: Vic Tornado!” the banner reads. I bet the audience didn’t know that. I bet they came here expecting to see a spectacle, and they got hoodwinked at the last moment, saddled with the likes of Vic. I can’t help but sigh. ...

56 comments 56
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“Dandelion Surrender” by Story Time

Submitted to Contest #167

Once when I was a child, I spent an entire afternoon in the kitchen doing nothing, but feeling warm. I watched people come and go out the back door. Every time they would open it, a cool gust of wind would blow through, and I’d feel this relief. This subterranean relief. I think that might have been the first time in my entire life I’d felt that sensation. That something was wrong and then something was right. I didn’t even know the word for it. I’d open my mouth to try and name it, and the door would close again. Back to the heat. Back to t...

26 comments 26
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“I Won't Be Long” by Haide McRay

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #167

I Won’t Be Long Yolan’s weathered hands are clasped in front of his head, which rests on Geta’s bed. A light blanket covers Geta, her hands open and motionless at her sides. Yolan does not pray. He simply rests. The aches in his legs and back never cease. He raises his head and looks across Geta’s bed to the window, where bare black branches of an ornamental tree shiver in the early March afternoon. A red bird with a black mask and yellow beak sits on a branch. “He has a sweetheart, Geta. I have seen her on that same branch. Her feathers ...

4 comments 4
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“Walmart” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #167

Dave Maddison pulled his coat collar up to warm his neck as he walked down rain-sodden Oxford Street in London’s West End. It was Halloween and under his raincoat, he was dressed as Superman on his way to a Singles fancy dress party. His satin cape fluttered in the early evening breeze, draped outside his coat to prevent it from creasing and looking cheap, as he ignored the snickering of passers-by - unaware of the effect the rain had on his exposed cape. What had started as a light flapping of the blue cape, had transformed into the drag of...

11 comments 11
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“About Time” by Brynn Hadler

Submitted to Contest #167

For an instant, she saw him again. Strong, muscular, but with slender copper arms gleaming from his T-shirt. He smiled at her, and she felt her heart race. “Martha!” She jumped and turned away from the window towards the voice. “You’re going to miss the party, love! What? Aren’t you dressed? Come on, I’ll help you choose something sexy.” Martha laughed. “How about we just try for decent?”, she replied. She glanced back at the window. Outside a single large willow tree swayed in the breeze on its hilly bed of grass. There was nothing else t...

4 comments 4
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“The Child” by Janis Cannon-Bowers

Submitted to Contest #167

“Do you sell wigs for children?”, she asked, looking nervously around the shop. “Aww, is she sick?” the young man behind the counter responded with genuine concern.    “No, she’s…” she stopped. “Do you?” It was taking all her control to keep the panic from engulfing her.  “Yeah, sure,” he said, pointing. “On the back wall.” She guided the child carefully to where the clerk had pointed. As she tucked the child’s blonde locks into the dark, curly wig she whispered, “we’re going to play dress up, now, reme...

8 comments 8
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“In Plain Sight” by John K Adams

Submitted to Contest #167

The front-page headline read, ‘Local Man Gains Sight.’ Psychologist, Dr. Isaac, looked at the wall clock. This man and his family were due momentarily. He planned to see them without charging his usual fee. Dr. Isaac believed therapy should not be a rich man’s luxury. To him, seeing clients ‘pro bono’ came with the territory. The family in his waiting room were unusual. Though clean, the father’s rumpled suit looked as if it had been pulled from the trunk of a car. His wife, Margaret, carried herself regally in her flowered housedress. In hi...

9 comments 9
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“The Institution” by AnneMarie Miles

Submitted to Contest #167

“It’s 7:51,” Jim says to Dr. Kief.Checking his watch, Dr. Kief nods, “Yes, we can begin in a moment. The nurses are on their way.”Anxiously shoving his hands in his pockets just for the sake of having a place for them, Jim says, “I hope this works, Doc.”“Me, too. I have high hopes for your wife tonight. She made it through dinner just fine. Would it make you feel more comfortable if I began?”His gaze elsewhere, Jim shakes his head, “No, no. I’ll do it. If I was crazy and didn’t know it, I’d want her to tell me.”A hard knock comes from the do...

14 comments 14
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“Don't Stop and Smell the Flowers” by Theresa Fox Turner

Submitted to Contest #167

Juniper stood, hands on her ample hips, smiling down at a mound of loose dirt. She'd just finished poking her finger into the soft dirt one to two inches apart, dropping different flower seeds into the holes and softly spreading the dirt back over them. The dark brown soil stood out like a stain along the white brick of the house, but soon beautiful wildflowers would be poking out, decorating her front lawn.She held her dirty hands up to inhale the wet earthy smell of the dirt as the soft hum of a motor approached in the distance. She turned...

9 comments 9
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“The Megaspiracy” by Agnieszka Baczkowska-Maśluszczak

Submitted to Contest #167

1850 - The OthersThe dawn broke. A ship loomed in the sky. Silent, immobile, impossible. Voices echoed inside the metal hull. “Why are we here?” a young voice asked.“We can’t know. You know that. We never know,” another voice answered in a deep baritone.“Only at the very end?” the young voice asked.“Yes,” The old voice confirmed.“Alright then. When will it be time?”“Soon. Soon,” the old voice said.“I can’t believe this is happening again. Will I forget everything?”“Yes. Everything.”“It seems so frightening. Surely there must be somethin...

2 comments 2
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“Some carry mirrors, some carry coffins ” by Flore Lazcano

Submitted to Contest #167

“Why is everyone going around with their arms and legs amputated and carrying coffins?” I was not able to reply to this strange question by then. It was crazy marvellous maintaining conversations with the crazy, it was fantastic to hear the hidden narratives inside the lunatic’s minds. I was a simple neighbour, in a monotonous neighbourhood, full of aged Italians. I boringly chewed and swallowed the same stories over and over: The ship arrival, the loneliness and the trauma post-war. I've heard about the bombs and the cold Russian wint...

7 comments 7
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“Last Sunday Morning Drive” by Marty B

Submitted to Contest #167

Wham! Something hit the back of Matt’s head and his left side, the pain hard and sharp. It reverberated across his skull, drowning out awareness of anything else and shooting stars across his vision. With a sudden jerk he fell back hard into the driver's door as inexplicably the large SUV he was driving stopped moving forward, but sideways, a roller coaster-shift of momentum. He felt the forceful impact abrupt against his broad back, pressing with immense force. Matt looked out of the windshield, and had the sensation of being in a trai...

17 comments 17
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“100 Seconds to Midnight” by Delaney Howard

Submitted to Contest #167

The time was 2 minutes to Midnight when I was born in October of 1953. When I turned ten, they reset it to 12 minutes to Midnight. When I was 21, it was reset to 9 minutes to Midnight. Since I was about nine, I've kept my eye on it with a vigilant, tormenting worry. The Doomsday Clock has been my obsession, my reality, and my measure of life's possible end date for the last fifty-eight years. Just as my 67th birthday passed, the Clock was reset once more. It was 100 seconds to Midnight. One minute and forty seconds, the smallest measure...

4 comments 4
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“N/A” by Michelle SHAAY

Submitted to Contest #167

The hot, large cup of coffee was just what she needed. It was really chilly in her makeshift office on this particularly sunny morning. Even though she didn't even like the flavor of it Myra added a shot of Vodka to make it more appealing. It had been a long and frustrating week. As more news poured in about a menacing pandemic and downturn in the economy her options were quickly drying up. Her company was so afraid of the current events, they decided to completely demolish an entire building and division that housed her position of five yea...

2 comments 2
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“Run Loser Run” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #167

Triggers: severe mental health, suicide, implied not explicit abuse, trauma, grappling with reality.The sidewalk I slept on screams at me, mocking me. The trashcan I search for scraps in to satiate my grumbling belly threatens to expose my secrets. I repeatedly slam my palms into my forehead, trying to stop the echoes.The lamppost won't stop laughing. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," I repeat uncontrollably, twitching, recoiling from unseen attackers surrounding me. I feel their tiny hands digging around beneath my skin. They are trying to fi...

7 comments 7
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Contest #167

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Title: Adelaide's Cemetery

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