Grime Street Halloween Special: Pumpkin Guts

  Sharpen your knife and get ready to carve into a Grime Street Halloween special! Look over your shoulder while exploring this episode—a coldblooded slasher stalks the greasy alleyways. Wade Hackette investigates gooey murders and discovers a pumpkin filled with guts. A sick joke? Revenge? Insanity?  The scariest questions are the ones that can never

Fifty-Word Story: Rice

Jessie sat upright on the chair. I didn’t want to stand by him. “He’s your brother, Mary. Do as I ask.” “Dad, Jessie’s got rice on his face!” “It’s okay. We’re gonna take one picture.” Jessie didn’t complain, but the rice on his skin started moving. He smelled bad, too.     Deadly Fact Photographing deceased

SMM Event: Don’t Be Shy…Write About an Octopi!

  Put on your diving helmet—we’re about to go deep! Jump into the dark water and take a peek below the waves. Don’t be shy! Everyone likes to get a little wet. Explore the realm where daylight refuses to glow, just don’t get too close to the nightlights, or you may get stung. Or eaten.

Cassandra’s Ashes

  The sorcerer took one final look at the ingredients in the black pot in front of him. He only doubted himself for a moment before turning to stare at the corpse of his lover lying naked on the sofa behind him. His main specialty was necromancy. It was a gift he had never felt

Fifty-Word Story: Getting Dark

I awake. My head’s pounding. She’s sobbing. “I’m s-s-sorry.” I can’t see her, but she sounds distraught. I try to reassure her, but my head hurts. “No one leaves me!” She screams. My pillow’s saturated in blood. Sandra trembles in the corner as she holds my gun. It’s getting dark.   Written By !!** Click

Fighting With the Devil

Juan goes to church, because he sees the devil in his dreams.  He wakes up in the middle of the night with sweat streaming down his body. “I don’t know why Satan don’t let go of me,” Juan wails on his hands and knees.  Father Mallory motions for him to get up.  “What do I do,

Laura L. Zimmerman: How I Became a Zombie Cheerleader

I think I might be dead. Of course my mom would say I’m silly. She’d assume my complaints were over a boy or cheerleading or something trivial. And sad part is, I can’t even tell her she’s wrong. Because I don’t know what’s wrong. Not exactly. All I do know is that I haven’t had

Dark Fiction: Women Love Bad Guys

  Any pub in some dirty corners near Liverpool Street, where yuppies and tourists cannot see. That’s where she is. Stale beer and dust on the window. She is alone. Her long fingers run on the brim of her glass as people move slowly in the dark. Their steps are quiet on the thick burgundy

Will You Be My Killingtine?

  Roses are red…violets are blue…I like blood and so do you! That special day is here—the time of year when love birds exchange boxes of chocolates or romantic pieces of cardboard, because nothing says ‘I love you’, like a holiday themed card from the grocery store. Two horrifically frisky stories stain this killingtine: a

Winter Laments

Cabot downs the Scotch and welcomes its potency. The alcohol makes a soothing trail from his tongue, trickles like a warm river down his throat, and wraps around his innards like a searing bandage. This broken heart would take time to mend but for now, he’ll use whatever he can to numb the pain. The