A Distrustful Citizen (microfiction)

The first thing I feel is the strange taste in my mouth. My mouth is dry, the taste is metallic like I have a mouthful of gold teeth. It feels like it’s bleeding. The room is completely dark; I can’t see anything. A humming noise rings in my left ear. I can’t move; I’m strapped down. But to what? I try to move my arms and legs to no avail. Even my head feels like it’s strapped down. The room smells musty and damp. I hear someone coughing, maybe in the room next to me.


No one answers. I struggle to break free, but I’m strapped in tight. The ceiling must be leaking, I hear drip-drip-dripping. What the hell is going on?

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Hush, Little Baby (flash fiction)

Halloween may be over, but that doesn’t mean we should stop reading and writing creepy fiction! Here’s a piece of horror flash fiction about a child screaming in the woods and a scary encounter. It’s about 630 words and has an estimated reading time of 2 and half minutes. Let me know what you think!

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Soul-Eater (a poem)

The soul-eater has corrupted me thoroughly

this world teeters on brinks of insanity –

the soul-eater lurches thru

underground tunnels quietly,

he searches for innocence

to destroy violently –

save me from the soul-eater,

I beg you, please,

nothing is sweeter to him

than sadistic glee.

(Photo by BSD on Unsplash)

The Nightmare Center (a short story)

Here’s my attempt at a scary short story about what happens when you infiltrate peoples’ nightmares – and the consequences that come from doing so.

“Dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy.” – Sigmund Freud


Dylan yawned, leaned back in his chair. It was another late night at the Nightmare Center, but at least he was collecting overtime. The entire year had been full of late nights, for obvious reasons. The election had peoples’ unconscious selves falling apart at the seams.

“Still here?” Amari asked, bags under her eyes.

“Unfortunately,” Dylan said. “I’m working a double.”

“It never ends.”

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Criminals (a poem)

I dream of criminals, being a witness to misdeed

men with dark eyes do dark things in motel rooms

tell me to keep my mouth zippered shut –

I wake with a sense of dread

storm clouds gather outside frosted windows

a woman with an umbrella screams

then runs for her life.

(Photo by Lacie Slezak on Unsplash)