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Stories by: thehorrorwithin
2 stories
The Wayward Pebble
A young boy finds a captivating blue stone while walking with his friends. This discovery changes life as he knows it and begins to control the world around him. As Tommy grows, he carries the stone and the secret with him. When the burden becomes too great he reaches out to the only one that might understand, a childhood friend that fell victim to the wrath of the stone. Though she believes she is responsible for the death of her parents, it was something far more sinister. Tommy struggles with his own sanity as he tries to convince her, all the while battling the mysterious, malevolent, wayward pebble.
Meet Susie Slayer
Bloodshed. Mayhem. Madness. It's hard to make a new life when dealing death is all you know. Each city brings her closer to a normal life, but can she leave her past behind? A hardened, bitter, killing machine hangs her blades for good, but you cant escape who you are when the demons of your past strike back. Susie Slayer attempts to put them to rest and instead comes face to face with the demon she cant outrun. The woman she murdered in cold blood.New Chapters weekly!The demonic tones that dance around his true voice send shivers up my spine. I spring to my full height, brandishing my swords in front of me. He moves so quickly I can't pin him down, just a black blur sprinting across my vision. He makes a circuit of the room on all fours, slashing any catatonic partygoer that happens to be in his path. My heart aches for their families, but they would have all been dead if it wasn't for me. Every single one. And if the others are going to make it, I'll need to focus. Not on the dead bodies, or the gashes or the screams. Focus on the target. He is circling me, gaining speed and tightening in on me. I know better than to fall for that crap. I raise the swords higher staying in the circle that he is winding me in and drop to one knee. I close my eyes against the panic.Beyond the screams and fearful whimpers of the knot of victims that has gathered away from the fray, his breathing is a steady, rough, shallow beat. His paws tear at the walls, unfurling the paper from them like banners. He is circling still, waiting to pounce. Waiting for the moment to catch me off guard. I allow my breathing to match his. Slow and even.