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

Posted in Horror on Oct 31, 2022

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✍️ 80 stories

Sunday Service

Submitted to Contest #167

At seven-thirty this morning, I walk up to the church. I do not walk past it like I do every other day. It’s Sunday. Me and Jesus, we go way back.  I wink at him while he dangles from the cross, gaunt chest bleached white by the sun. Thin rays of dawn filter through the clouds and shine directly into his eyes. Poor guy’s all strung up; he’s got no way to shield himself. I always found it a bit tasteless how they nailed him up here on the peeling front cladding of the chapel, day and night, rain or shine. He is the savior, after all. ...

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Mind Over Marriage

Submitted to Contest #167

Trigger Warning: This story contains mentions of lost loved ones and other dark themes that may not be suitable for all readers. Please read at your own discretion. “Careful, Brie. You’ll cut your hand like that.” Brianna Millington looked up, knife poised precariously above the carrot, and grinned. “You’re one to talk, Robby. Remind me who in this room we had to take to the ER last summer? Because I’m fairly sure it wasn’t me, and there’s only one other person in this room, so. . .” His lips twitched. Robert Millington turned his ba...

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The picture

Submitted to Contest #167

The Picture Every morning, Anna walked into the painting on her bedroom wall. The warm breeze ruffled the scarf wound around her head. Feathered strokes of Autumn leaves fluttered down around her like a blessing. Slowly, she moved toward the doe standing among the trees. Her sympathetic friend’s large eyes shone, calling Anna like a beacon. Anna’s hand caressed the rough hair on the doe’s back. She leaned her cheek into the animal’s rounded side and felt the gentle undulation of its inhaling and exhaling. Anna sighed in contentment. &n...

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Sleep Walker

Submitted to Contest #167

May contain graphic material. Includes death, violence, gore and mental illness.My name is Hank Hudson and in 1993, I maliciously murdered my seventeen-year-old neighbor, Marcy Ford. I currently reside at the Gilridge Penitentiary for Men. I was twelve when Marcy and her brother, Robert moved in. It was summer. Sweltering. Grape popsicle weather. I could see the U-Haul pulling up next door. I was in a kitty pool in my garage.There, hopping out of the passenger side of the U-Haul, was Marcy Ford. She was tall, thin, her sun kissed legs, long ...

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Daydream Believer

Submitted to Contest #167

My name is Amanda Jennings. I’m 32 years old and have lived my life as a maladaptive daydreamer, meaning that I spend more than half of my waking life daydreaming. My parents died in a car crash when I was 16 months old, so my grandmother raised me. When Nana took over parenting me, she was a diminished grief-stricken woman who never recovered from the loss of her husband, my grandfather, in the Viet Nam war. When her only child, my mom, passed away 15 years later, she probably wouldn’t have been able to function if it hadn’t been for her re...

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Storm

Submitted to Contest #167

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He comes towards her and then her ribs are on fire. She’s on the floor and in pain. He’s causing it and not letting her get up. Another branch was blown against the building, making Tempest flinch. It was him, Jason; she could hear his voice in her head. The crashes outside, the dark and the shadows, it was bringing it back. She knew where she was and that she was out and that he had been killed, but the part of her that knew that wasn’t being allowed to reason right now.  “Bold move, princess, you’ll re...

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Dungeons and Kitchens.

Submitted to Contest #167

*Substances and mild violence/language.It was Halloween in the village and everyone was in high festivities. All but Jordan the head chef at the Ox Tale. Jordan turned on the equipment and tried not think too much about how he would miss the warmth that day.He had just changed a supplier, booked the electrician to fix the dishwasher, had two people quit and hired two people replace them and had put off the paper work for it all.The other chef’s arrived: First Ollie and Lewis, followed by Josh the new sue chef and Aaron the new kitchen porter...

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The Thing About Lloyd Stanford

Submitted to Contest #167

Lloyd Stanford was your average, overweight, middle-age working stiff with none of those go-getter, climb-the-corporate-ladder “ambitions,” thank you very much. He was quite content with his nine to five desk job where nothing unusual ever happened, and every day bled together with the one before it and the one after it until Lloyd’s weekdays became indeterminate blurs differentiated only by the color of shirt he chose to wear. It was Tuesday, and Lloyd’s shirt was a dingy taupe color, the shade of an old coffee stain.  “And how are we...

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Control

Submitted to Contest #167

*Trigger warning: mental health, suicide attempt There are secrets we never plan to reveal to the world because we are ashamed or scared. There are also secrets so big that we can’t hold them in forever. Some fall into both categories, and each day is a battle between telling a friend and saving our pride. I have been fighting this battle for three years. My secret has never surfaced, despite examinations by doctors and an overwhelming urge to scream that I hear voices. Yes, I hear voices. Yes, I am crazy. No, I’ve never told a soul.&nbs...

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A good man is hard to find

Submitted to Contest #167

There were streaks of rain along Madge’s kitchen window that she did not notice; it had been cloudy all afternoon but the rain was only now beginning, although she was unaware of it as she bustled about her kitchen ramming and slamming cupboards, boiling water on the stove, a cigarette smoldering in a green glass ashtray. Her pace was frantic as if she were expecting forgotten dinner guests at any moment, her forehead glistening with sweat she constantly rubbed away with her wrist – cursing and rereading lines of the cookbook, reaching for t...

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A BLACK HORSE WAS CROSSING THE STREET, BUT PERHAPS IT WAS A RED BICYCLE, INSTEAD

Submitted to Contest #167

A BLACK HORSE WAS CROSSING THE STREET…BUT PERHAPS IT WAS A RED BICYCLE, INSTEAD “ Julian, you said you met Paula Z. some days ago(yesterday). Where did you meet her? Maybe at the Seven Stars Bar, which she frequented, when she lived here?” “ No, No…I met her that she was flying  here in the city…ah, now I don’t remember exactly where …ah, here, she was flying over the White square” “ You mean she was walking across the square, don’t you?” Martha glanced at her son Julian with a look  b...

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Void

Submitted to Contest #167

What? Where am I? What’s happening? Looking around nothing seemed to take any shape. It was all spinning. Or was I spinning? What’s with this line? Is it a line? Ahead of me was lined of black human-like figures going on for, wait, it seemed to just mesh into the blackness of the obis. “It’s your turn?” a voice said from behind me. I spun around to see a human-shaped figure made out of complete darkness, or was it just so bright the image was seared into my vision. I looked at the others in the line but it seemed like none of them cared, o...

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Dark

Submitted to Contest #167

It was a year now, since his brother Marcus had passed away, and now John felt abandoned in the world. Since then, he had never heard of his other brother: Dark. That was not his real name, but that's what everyone called him, because of the  mournful and haunting sound of his pipes. No one else could play the war pipes like Dark. But more often than not, the comforting and familiar sounds were an omen to tragedy of the darkest kind. John never believed that Marcus had drowned the night he left the village with his s...

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The Insane

Submitted to Contest #167

(tw: mental health, substance abuse, violence, death) The woman of fiery red hair was drawn to something that others feared, drawn to something that could disturb one's mind. She was drawn to something that was feted with medication, drawn to something others strived to cure, drawn to something that made people wail and cry out in mental misery and stress. She was drawn to her hallucinations, elicited by continuous drug abuse and the toxic process of hourly alcoholism. What could become one's vastest fear had turned into her very own ...

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Nearly Transparent

Submitted to Contest #167

Reminiscing on the past for some is easy and an enjoyable experience. For others, it can be as difficult to endure as pulling teeth. Others like me, that is.  Days like these always tend to tug on those old memories. The ones that lay deep, buried in the back of my mind, waiting and wishing to be forgotten forever.  I tentatively shut my eyes as the regressed echoes of my past pushed their way to the front of my thoughts. The rain pattering against the walls of my sanctuary eased my tension and allowed me to sto...

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