I write short stories and very short stories every now and then.
Standing in front of room 87, I decided to retrace my steps.
Standing in front of room 99, I decided I’d retraced wrong.
Standing in front of room 114, I realised I was hopelessly lost.
Standing in front of room 3, I started to question my sanity.
An endless maze in a university residence. A previous revision was posted on /r/nosleep in December 2018.
I stumbled onto the platform, gasping, but further movement was arrested by a tug at my left shoulder. My bag was trapped in the train car’s near-solid mass of humanity. I turned around to tug on the strap, making pleading eye-contact with the person nearest the entrance.
The stranger shifted and my bag released instantly, causing me to stumble backward. I nodded to the stranger, noting that there was something familiar about his face. “Say,” I began, “do I know–”
A familiar face on the train. Originally posted on /r/WritingPrompts in December 2017.
I got to the school fence and made my way to a well-known section off to the side that had recently been damaged. I scaled it easily, landing on my feet. Phase one of my mission completed, I headed to the school building.
A soft thump sounded behind me, freezing my bones. I turned my head, panicked.
Horror in a school at night. Originally posted on /r/nosleep in November 2016.
Mark decided not to ask her how rigorously she’d tested any of her various security circumventions, and the two proceeded to the large, soft couch in front of the TV. Susan grabbed the remote, which had more buttons than a coat store, and in the blink of a fifty-inch screen, Mark forgot all about how many times he’d nearly died that day.
Originally posted on /r/WritingPrompts in May 2014, this was my response to a prompt about security. It’s longer than most of the other stories on this page, but not by too much.
A massive arm shot out of the grave, followed immediately by a second, and then a large meaty head with a scar running one way and a tattoo of a scar running the other. I flicked my fingers upwards, and the beast rose from its grave, a nearly two-metre tall monstrosity of dirt and sinew. The beast groaned and flexed. I felt a tingle of excitement in my bones.
Originally posted on /r/WritingPrompts in May 2014, this was my response to a prompt about a ‘mancer battle. Not really my usual fare, but I made a go of it. Warning: it’s a little gross.
If there was a giant somewhere in the distance, I imagined, looking out at the ever-greying landscape before me, he’d look like just a speck on the horizon at first, but then he’d come lumbering forward, getting bigger and bigger, his footsteps louder and louder, his giant fat face coming into view, and he’d just be running in a straight line, nothing to dodge or climb or navigate, and then –
Originally posted on /r/nosleep in January 2014, this was my attempt at a “believable horror story” in the terms of that community.
The box was crafted from a substance that resembled wood, but not quite. It gave no splinters, nor did it possess the rigidness or vulnerability to water-damage of wood. Intricate patterns, painted in colours that were at once varied and complementary, had been carved into the box’s every surface, displaying its creator’s meticulous attention to detail.
“A standard storage box,” said Maldofax nonchalantly. “Commonly used for storing food, tools, and occasionally unhatched eggs.”
I wrote a bunch of flash-fiction stories in highschool. This one from 2009 is my favourite.