A/N: here’s my attempt of writing an original story with horror elements and a creature based from a blorbo i like, lmao. this pushed me out of my comfort zone, so this had been a blast. :3

Word Count: 812

TW: ghost possession stuff, i guess. nothing too gorey just creepy elements happen.

***

"Quit being such a wuss," Mandi said, narrowing her eyes. "Once we get there then we'll get back home, alright? I doubt any wild animal would be nuts to be awake in the middle of the night."

[262 words; inspired by @flashfictionfridayofficial #FFF120 A Greater Horror prompt; dedicated to @beezlebubss]

The dark depths of the sea called out to her with a relentless sweetness that she knew was a lie. Staring unflinchingly at the depths, she stood on the ship rocking to and fro, to and fro. She could of course imagine the singing if she wanted to; she could imagine the countless pearls awaiting her beneath the darkness of the tides as they crashed upon the jagged rocks of the cliffside. Knowing the truth of what awaited her within the depths of the caves, she remembered what called out to her there. It was herself who called out to her. Her very own death song.

Least Expected

For @flashfictionfridayofficial

Horror is easy.

Crazed killers

Bleeding walls

Possession

Screams.

Those are the expected things.

Easy.

To really bring the chills

It needs to be unexpected.

A figure darting behind oblivious characters.

A smiling character with a dark secret.

Not the dark and stormy night but a sunny room

Not chaos but calm.

A calm sunny day that becomes crazed without warning.

A friend that is the killer.

A hero that is really the villain.

Numbers or colors that mean nothing, until they do.

Life that has always been death, just unknown.

For @flashfictionfridayofficial

Title: Prisoner

Word count: 766

Wattpad

It begins with something so mundane, something so unworthy of even mentioning it to my colleagues, that it feels almost intentional: a mild headache. Nothing worse than that. When the subsequent fever occurs, I still don’t pay much mind to it­ and I decide to take a sick day. Maybe two. My plan is to keep up with work through my laptop while also enjoying some unplanned extra time at home with my cat. There is always a silver lining in every situation to look forward in every situation.

When the following morning I begin to feel more startled and distressed than usual, I chalk it up to my dislike of being ill, and my elevated anxiety certainly explains my insomnia. My cat climbs on the couch to join me, and rubs her tiny head against my body. Her stripped orange contrasts with the yellow of my sweatshirt, and her low purr vibrating through my chest works to calm down my nerves. I rarely get sick, but I have nothing to worry about, even if it is taking me longer than I expected to feel healthy enough to go back to work.

---------------------------------------------------

When I wake up one night, drenched in sweat and with my limbs covered in goosebumps, my chest feels too heavy to even do the menial and automatic task of breathing, and shadows linger at the doorframe, illuminated by the dim light of the hallway hanging bulb. My instincts plead to scream, but I have lost all capacity of doing such thing. The meowing coming from the kitchen alerts the presence of my cat, but when she enters, ignoring the menacing shadows guarding the entrance to my room, she yowls and hisses at the sight of me and sprints out to somewhere else far away from me. In the fear and uncertainty freezing my bloodstream, leaving me stranded in my damp bedsheets, I slowly bur surely lose consciousness. The last thing I see before my eyelids close are the shadows approaching me and murmuring my name.

In the crack of daylight, my body suddenly feels revigorated, like whatever had happened the night before was a cruel, mocking nightmare and much alive than I felt the past two days. Usually, my cat would be sleeping on the other side of the bed at this point of the morning, but whatever had happened during dark is still troubling her.

I get up from bed, glad to finally feel energized enough to leave my home and go back to my established routine. However, when I pass the hallway mirror, a strange sensation going down my spine make me halt my walk to the kitchen. I turn around in a slow motion to see my reflection. She meets my gaze— although she possesses a distinguishable resemblance to me, the white rings surrounding her dilatated pupils and the pasty paleness dulling her skin warn that the person staring back it’s a stranger.

It cannot be me.

The front door squeaks, announcing the entrance of another person. The silvery voice approaching the kitchen indicates it’s my mother’s, but I cannot discern the words said. My hands begin to shake with an uncontrollable desire, and when my mother turns me around to greet me, her shock swiftly shifts into absolute terror at my overgrown nails scratching the skin of her shoulders open and my teeth sinking into the tender flesh of her neck.

I want to stop; I want to tell whoever or whatever is controlling me to stop, but my primal instinct commands me to keep eating her until she perishes under my actions. I want to cry at the atrocious act I’ve just committed, but there I feel there is nothing left in me but an unsatisfying hunger.The last thing I remember it’s her glazed sight and the bloodbath being absorbed by the wood board floor as I walk out the door.

---------------------------------------------------

I cannot remember my own name, or why am I walking or where I’m headed. I don’t remember where I am or where I used to be or if I could recognize the places I travel by. All I know it’s that I am prisoner in my own rotten flesh and putrid blood.

A crunching sound catches my attention — a human being. A normal one, with lively eyes and an axe grasped by their hand. Without my will, I drag my heavy legs towards them, the insatiable craving taking over me without asking me for permission.

This is the 16th time joining @flashfictionfridayofficial ! Thanks for the challenging prompt!

Word Count: 699

T/W: non

Kyle (they/them): student (Jeff is their game avatar)

Rio (he/him): writer 

Holding a gun and a survival knife, Jeff crawls under the desks of the abandoned science lab. He has to find a key and a USB stick which is supposed to contain some information about the top-secret project. Documents are scattered everywhere. The windows are all shattered into pieces. It could have been an easy mission had it not been for a bunch of zombies roaming around. The byproducts of the 'top-secret project,' those zombies are sent to the secluded area, including the abandoned lab. Some are not that strong, but there are nasty ones that are creeping up to you without a sound. A distant scream sends chills down his spine. The lights are all gone, so Jeff has to rely on a dim light from outside. He is desperately searching for the USB under the desk while trying not to make any noise. Nothing is here, just some old traces of blood here and there. Suddenly, he spots a skinny figure wobbling towards him. He shoots a gun in that direction, but it keeps coming towards him. Shit, shit, shit! He knows that he is running out of the bullet. He runs towards the only exit of the room, hitting and kicking all obstacles on his way. But at the very last moment, a giant figure appears at the exit. Its eyes are glaring red. Jeff knows that it is over. 

'Aaaaaa!! Nooooooo!!!' 

Here comes the scream. It's always like that. Kyle puts away their game console and looks behind their shoulder. Rio, their cousin, is staring at the bloody scene in which the giant zombie smashed Jeff. Rio is leaning on Kyle's back, and Kyle can feel his tremble on their back. 

Kyle sighs and turns off the screen. Rio looks at Kyle with an accusing expression.

'You promised that you won't play horror games while I'm staying at your place.' Pulling a blanket over his shoulder, Rio spits out the word. 

'Well, you fell asleep while you were writing your damn novel.'

Kyle shrugs their shoulders. 

Rio is a writer, known for his cool looks and cynical comments. However, in front of Kyle, Rio is a totally different person. Whenever he is stuck with his novels, he comes to Kyle's place. 'Changing the environment is the best way to deal with problems.' Rio always says and barges into Kyle's flat. Kyle always makes an annoyed look. However, they don't hate the presence of Rio at their flat. They have never said that, but they kinda like squeezing into a small couch together because it reminds them of their childhood. 

'You know I can NEVER sleep after watching horror games or horror movies! I'll have a nightmare at least for 2 months! You deprive me of sleep!!' Rio pouts like a little kid.

'Yeah yeah, you are easily freaked out. Why did you take a sneak peek, then? You could've just looked away.' 

Kyle chuckles. 

'Damn you! I couldn't help! Besides, you didn't keep your word!!' 

Rio jumps off the couch and storms out of the room.

'Hey, where are you going? It's 3 am, and you might bump into a zombie!'

Kyle shouts at his back, still giggling. 

But there is no reply from Rio, and eerie silence fills the space.

'Rio? Hey, Rio?'

Kyle can't take it anymore. Then they hear a scream.

'Whaaaaaaaaaa!!!'

It is from Kyle's kitchen. Kyle imagines a zombie getting into the kitchen from the small window for a second. Ridiculous. 

'Rio!? What happened!?'

Kyle finds Rio standing in front of the fridge. He is pointing something in the freezer - well, to be precise, something NOT in the freezer.

'How dare you, Kyle! You have eaten all the ice creams here!? What a nightmare! I wanted to comfort myself with the mellow sweet sorbet...'

Kyle bursts into laughter. 

'Hahaha! What was that scream!The disappearance of the ice creams is a greater horror for you then?' 

Eventually, Rio starts laughing, too.

'But still, you gotta make up for my sleep!'

'Hmm.. cup of ice cream, then? I'll get one for you later.'