You can’t help yourself anymore when you see the man in black Cold. One, simple, ever so small word. Or that’s what you can say, and lie about. That’s what I wake up to. That’s the same thing I wake up to every morning. The same gruesome cold I’m forced to live with, in my small, unassuming apartment. I’m the kind of guy some would consider “A waste of space.” Personally, that’s a little much. I’m the kind of guy to work low-paying jobs and night shifts at dingy beat down places, or just some not out of the ordinary fast food restaurant. Hey, who serves you that food you get at your favorite fast food restaurant? That low-life guy…

You don’t know me. But perhaps you know my voice. I’m a narrator. Specifically, I narrate horror stories online. I scour the internet with a raven’s eye, searching for gems buried amongst the thousands of short fiction stories posted to places like nosleep and Nightscribe. It’s a time-consuming task. Believe me, I’ve lost entire evenings descending deeper and deeper into a rabbit hole of the worst scenarios a human mind can imagine. There are more stories out there than a single person could read in a lifetime of lightless nights. I discard many: those that are too amateurish, too derivative, or that are churned out by AI. But if I keep searching, I am rewarded with something truly terrifying, or…

I stood alone on the deck of the “Research Vessel Nautilus”, staring out across the wide, endless expanse of the Pacific Ocean. It was a clear day, the kinda where the horizon blurs into the sky, making it hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. The gentle rocking of the ship below served as a momentary anchor for the whirlwind of emotions inside. I’m about to dive into the Mariana Trench, the deepest ocean in the world. The depth is such that Everest could fit inside and still have room left. As a marine biologist, this is, undoubtedly, the peak of my life’s work – a chance to descend over 36,000 feet into an area still largely…

I jumped and dropped my paint brush when I heard the front door slam shut. My nerves were immediately settled when I heard the familiar voice of my husband. “I’m home!” My painting could wait. I smiled and made a beeline to the front door. He wasn’t supposed to be back from his work trip till tomorrow. “You usually text me when you’re getting home early,” I commented as I went in for a hug. “I lost my phone. I’ll have to go get a new one tomorrow,” he replied. I let out a chuckle. I was usually the one losing things in our relationship. “Sounds like I’m rubbing off on you,” I said as I grabbed his suit collar…

I know you’re probably wondering why the hell I’m telling you this. I should have kept my mouth shut, should’ve stayed quiet like everyone else does when they’ve seen something they shouldn’t have. People do it for all sorts of reasons. Some are too scared to talk, afraid that speaking out might invite whatever it is they saw back into their lives. Others stay silent because they can’t put the pieces together, can’t explain what happened, and the fear of not being believed is worse than carrying the memory alone. Then there are those who simply think it’s better to leave the past buried, as if ignoring it will make it go away. The problem is, once you’ve seen something…

There is a fresh, blank page sitting in front of me, and as I stare at it it seems to stare back. ‘It’s always so hard to get started’, I think. ‘I just wish I could get over the hump without climbing the hill. I feel like Sisyphus, every time I think I’ve gotten to the peak I roll back down to the start.’ I put my pen to the pristine white page and pause. Thinking. Agonizing over what sort of approach I will take this time. Will I be too eager? Will I lose interest? Is it going to be long enough, short enough, authentic or intelligent enough? Black ink has begun to pool where the pen’s tip is still pressed…

Chapter 4: The Cry for Fairness   The violent vibrations of the wails caused a portion of the wall to crumble, revealing a passage hidden behind it. The violet viscous oozed into the neighboring area as a breeze of air hit him with a refreshing touch. Requiem rested his claymore against his shoulder to continue his journey through the labyrinth. He lurched through the sludge to the next passage that was a skywalk. There were eight windows along both sides with an iron rod gate on the other end.   Requiem walked onto the middle of the skywalk taking in the scenery. He peered over each side of the skywalk to see if the tower had moved. The sun was setting over…

For all readers… Hello there! If you’re reading this, you’re one of us-fellow survivors. You know what happened; our world has changed drastically. Unless you’ve been tucked away in a bunker this whole time, you’ve experienced it too. This book is my account of the apocalypse, as many have come to call it. It’s dedicated to all who have made it through, those who’ve come after us, those who’ve lost their lives, and everyone in between. I’ll be marking the days as “days since the apocalypse” because, honestly, I’ve kind of lost track of time. Day 32 Well, hello. I’m recounting my memories as Spring comes, and I’m glad of it. It’s been a month since this all came down.…

To give you some context, I’ve been working for a large maintenance company for 10 years. In terms of our sectors of activity, we cover a wide range: industry, healthcare, agri-food, tertiary… We even work for private individuals and local authorities. In other words, we’re always busy. For my part, I work in a subsidiary specializing in tag and graffiti removal. Let me tell you, it’s not the most exciting job in the world. It’s like pulling weeds in your garden: it’s a pain in the ass, and you never see the end of it. For every tag removed, three new ones appear the next day. Clearly, we can’t keep up with these tagging bastards. Despite this, cities continue to…

‘Hey, girly! I’ve decided to start selling cosmetics.’ I groaned as I read the text message. When a girl you haven’t spoken to since high school, Kimmy in this case, sends you a message like that, it means they’re trying sell you on some MLM BS. My phone buzzed again, and despite my better judgement, I checked it and braced myself to read the words ‘boss babe’. Instead, I was surprised at what I read. ‘I need help figuring out my formulations for my products before I can take them to market, and I would love it if you would test some out. They’ll be free product in it for you!’ I was immediately intrigued. Kimmy had always been a…