By Chef AsDeathBeckons
They called her Betty Black Thumb, and for good reason. Everything that she touched died.
Black Thumb was born under suspicious circumstances. Her mother was a teenage recluse who was homeschooled and had never even dreamed of touching a boy. Some neighbors recall seeing a tall, dark man entering the Turner household one night, nine months before Betty was born. Others say it was her own father who did the deed. One thing everyone is sure of, however, is that Black Thumb was born on the stormiest night of the year. Her mother died giving birth to her, leaving her to be raised by her grandparents. And so the story of Black Thumb began. Continue reading “Black Thumb”
By Chef JRHEvilInc/Joel R Hunt
It all started out as a dating aid. Helping people to find their perfect match, y’know?
I mean, there were already dating websites, and they did pretty much the same job; listed your preferences, your interests, likes and dislikes. They made your true inner-self available at a single click, laid open and bare and optimised for key search terms. And they were great, for a while. Match-making was quicker and more accurate than ever before, but… well, you’ve got to admit, they were a bit impersonal. Sort of cold and robotic. It seemed to me that the next obvious step in dating technology was to bring back the missing element.
Bring back the human touch. Continue reading “Must Love Cats”
By Chef Unxmaal
Sometimes things do not go as planned. The heist certainly did not. I meant it to be a simple job — masks, a few guns, fast horses, a big score at the end.
The big dumb deputy got Jim in the back, about a minute in. By then there was smoke in the air, screaming, lots of noise. I always knew Jim would die of a bullet, most likely in the back. I think he knew the same. I should have known that the sheriff would post a deputy at the bank. It made no sense. We had spent the previous night torching the Canaveras Ranch, shot old man Canaveras, shot his ranch hands, shot the wife and children. Let one run to town with a hole in her arm, in her bloody nightgown, so as to attract attention back to the ranch. Then we rode hard around the Gap to town, and waited until the kid rode up, nearly dead, screaming and hollering about murder. Continue reading “The Other One”
By Chef lifeisstrangemetoo
I was lying alone in my room when I heard the voice, deep and crackly, coming from beneath my bed.
“Hey,” the voice called out.
I told myself I was just imagining it.
“Hey kid,” the voice repeated. Continue reading “The Monster Under Your Bed”
By Chef Rukatofan
I live in a house at the top of a hill, in a woody, quiet neighborhood. Everyone mostly keeps to themselves out here, it’s not the neighbor community that suburbs usually have, but that’s just fine for me. Today, I’m watching my sister’s kids while she is in the hospital. I’ll change some names, all except the name of the ghost… which somehow I feel would be a bad idea. Not sure why.
There’s always a spot on our driveway where, whenever I walk down to the mailbox, or take the trash and recycling up or down the hill, I always feel like someone is watching me from the other side of the fence. I would just assume it was a neighbor, watching out of curiosity or something since no one really talks to each other on my street. Continue reading “Are Ghosts Safe for Children?”
By Chef jklimerence
Death is a weird fascination. It is a tricky sticky thing that seems to dart down and snatch reality right from under our feet, always when we least expect it, even though we know from the beginning to always expect it.
I, myself, never saw it coming. I chose a career in writing, in structuring entire worlds and divining the future of my characters, but even I could not see death’s lecherous caress, her pale fingers claiming what she desired. It felt as if I’d shut my eyes to fall asleep and opened to them to a world turned upside down and set on fire by some invisible madman. When the bones of my wife finally turned up, I truly did want to drench every last inch of this evil existence with kerosene and set it aflame with my anger.
Continue reading “I Made a Book to Remember the Passion of my Dead Wife”
By Chef Dectrek
I’ve never liked getting help from others. It always felt like pity. Like someone was trying to rub it in my face that I needed them even for the briefest moment in time.
So you can imagine how tough it was when my husband died and all the neighbors wanted to offer me their condolences. Denise would come over and say “Laura, it’s such a shame about George. How are you going to manage raising little Susy all by yourself? I’ve still got Drew and we can barely keep up with our five little ones considering how involved they are at the school. Anyways I brought you a casserole. Just put it in the oven for 30 minutes and no more or else it will burn…” It’s funny how I always left it in ten minutes to long. I guess I’m clumsy. Continue reading “A Cult Shoveled My Driveway”
By Chef JRHEvilInc/Joel R Hunt
//This is part of a series. Click here for part one.
I’m writing this because I need to make sense of what’s going through my head. I’ll admit it; I’m scared. And I know that if I close my eyes and try to sleep, my mind will be making monsters out of every creak of the house and every howl of the wind. I’m in that state where I don’t even want to make a noise, because part of me is worried that, if I do, I’ll hear a reply.
I know I’m being irrational. If I just get all of this written down I’ll see how ridiculous it is and I’ll be able to move past it. It will become impossible to deny that my fear is based on something absurd.
Ockham’s Razor. The true explanation is often the simplest.
That puppet is not watching me.
It started yesterday morning. Continue reading “The Schoolhouse in the Forest”
By Chef theoddcatlady
It was August 9, 2010. I was thirty eight years old. My oldest daughter Avis was twelve, and the younger pair, Joanne and John, were nine year old twins. I’d been married for fifteen years. I worked at an insurance firm. And every Sunday, while my wife and Avis went to church and the twins went to my mother’s house, I took a walk.
It was a clockwork sort of arrangement. My wife knew never to push me into going with her, I was an atheist and set on staying that way.
Of course, given what’s happened, my views have changed. Continue reading “I Took a Walk for Seven Years”
By Chef JRHEvilInc/Joel R Hunt
//This is the first of a series. Click here for part two.
“Mum, don’t worry about it. It’s just a splash, she won’t care.”
Mum doesn’t listen, already whipping the cloth off of the table and folding it over her arm.
“No, no, I want everything to be perfect,” she says, running a finger over the table to make sure the stain hasn’t gone down to the wood, “She deserves a real family meal, something nice. She doesn’t want to come home to a… a… warzone!”
“Good choice of words,” mutters my brother with a smirk. Mum shoots him a look, then turns to me.
“Fetch the fresh tablecloth, would you? It’s in the linen closet.” Continue reading “The First Parents”