Short horror stories
Peter gasped, his eyes flicking wide and searching the darkness above him. A shiver ripped through his body as he fought to grasp reality.
It was so real,…. so very real,…..
Peter could feel sweat dripping over his skin as he span his feet from the bed, sitting and struggling to calm his breath. He could see the silhouette of his wife asleep beside him.
There was no girl in the garden. There were no flames. He smiled.
Peter stood and walked to the window, checking the lawn below. Nothing.
Only the reflection of the dead girl in the glass.
(c) Tim Austin 2016. Promo image by Steinar La Engeland via Unsplash.
Today’s One Word Story title was suggested by Angelica Kidd, author of the Write On Blog which you can find by clicking here. Thanks Angelica!
I’m looking for more words – please feel free to suggest yours. Just pop a word in the comments of this post and I’ll write a story based on that word – simple.
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See you tomorrow for “Mimetic”!
“Hey, there’s still stuff up here!”
Peter’s head was poking through the loft hatch, his hand tugging at the light chord.
“What was that, honey?”
“There’s stuff! Boxes.”
Liza watched as her husband lifted himself into the attic.
She sipped her coffee. “Any antiques?”
“For your Pop to sell for beer money?”
“I was thinking of renovations.”
Something fell down and clattered at Liza’s feet – a child’s doll, its face smudged with soot. Dead glass eyes stared up and she choked at the sudden smell of smoke.
“Honey,…” Liza’s voice was a hoarse whisper.
“We need to go.”
(c) Tim Austin 2016. Promo image by Rodion Kutsaev via Unsplash.
Today’s word was suggested by Bristolian and avid supporter of the OWOS project “Orignal Tracey”. You can follow her on Twitter @.
Tracey suggested her word by sending me a tweet – you can too! Tweet me @ with the hashtag #onewordonestory and I’ll write a 100 word story just for you!
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See you tomorrow for “Principle”.
Shadows smothered the vaulted halls of the General Register Office, a handful of grimy lamps spewing dim light into the stuffy air. Sam Desmond was at home here. In the darkness, he would wander the metal maze of filing cabinets, reading and enjoying each document before slipping them into their allotted draw. In those files whole lives were condensed to dry descriptions: “Rhonda Jones: Died age 38, Teacher”. “Charles West: Died age 73, Retired”. Here they slept in ink and paper, neglected by all but him. Smiling, Sam opened the newest file. “Sam Desmond: Died age 60, Filing Clerk”.
(c) Tim Austin 2016
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The word for this story was suggested by Dr. Abby Astle: A wonderful person, a trusted friend and a very good GP.
If you’d like to suggest a word for me to write a story on, pop it as a comment below or tweet it to @timaustin2k using the hashtag #onewordonestory.
Don’t forget to follow the blog by hitting the button at the lower right. See you tomorrow for *Breathes* “Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch”