writer / horror enthusiast

Results for tag: fear

Waiting For My Uber

I pace the length of the lobby anxiously. The world outside is pitch black,seldom lit even by flashes of lightning, followed by booming thunder. I catch my reflection in the opaque glass of my office’s front window, and for a moment I’m startled by the sight of my face in that dark square, illuminated by the soft glow of my phone’s screen.

My Uber is still several minutes away. With the rain pounding as hard as it is, I’m waiting inside while the driver makes his way carefully down the flooded streets. I’m the last person here, and all I want is to step outside, lock the door, and be gone.

I can’t shake that feeling of being watched, though. I know it’s silly; it’s a small office of just ten people, and I did the closing procedures myself. Walking each room, I turned off every light and closed every door. I’m alone. But still, I feel I’m not.Continue Reading

I don’t like swimming

I’ve never been much for swimming. I just don’t like it – and especially not in large bodies of water. They kind of freak me out.

That’s why I wasn’t too happy about it when my family decided to stop at a lake on the way home from our annual camping trip. We’d had a fantastic weekend, and I was ready to go home.  Unfortunately, both my mom and dad wanted to check out a spot they’d heard was great for swimming, and since my little sister wanted to go too, I could hardly muster much objection.

We got there around midday, and it was obvious that our quick dip was going to become another night of camping. To be fair, the lake was gorgeous. The weather was ideal, and there was a picturesque mountain range just on the far shore behind which the sun would inevitably set, streaking globs of deep red paint across the summer sky. Mom and dad looked happier than I’d seen them in a long time. Who was I to try to say no to that?Continue Reading

Tonight is the Night

I play a little game with myself when I’m bored and it’s almost time for bed. Since I was a child, I’ve always had an active imagination. Naturally this led to me becoming a voracious reader and eventually a lover of film, especially horror movies. Although most of them don’t scare me, I have always had a special place in my heart for “monster under the bed” stories. The idea that there’s something malevolent directly beneath you as you’re trying to sleep, waiting until that dream world takes you so that it can creep out and do what monsters do is just terrifying to me.

But I like being scared. In this world full of glaring spotlights which illuminate all of the mysteries of life until they are no longer interesting, that space between the floor and the bottom of your mattress represents the last holdout of things which go bump in the night. Because it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve checked under there before – tonight could be the night that some lunatic broke into your house and decided to hide in your room so he could sneak out and stab you in the chest while you sleep. Or the night that quantum fluctuations led to an interuniversal portal opening beneath your bed, letting in some freakish monster which decides to eat first and ask questions later. Tonight could be the night, after all.Continue Reading

The Hallway

I try to run, but my legs feel as if they are immersed in honey. They drag through the air, which feels thick enough to dive into and swim. I have a brief, fleeting thought that doing so might actually be faster than stepping through what seems to be mud. Then I remember what lies behind me, and I plod on. No time for games now.

The hall seems to stretch on forever in front of me, pulling into the distance like an eternal horizon, always just beyond my reach. The lights snap on above me as I pass under them and then fade out as I manage to leave them behind, giving me a sliding nodule of illumination which does not actually provide any usable features to the hallway, and instead just heightens my impatience and anxiety.Continue Reading


I lay in bed, covers pulled up to my chin and eyes glued straight up to the ceiling.


I wouldn’t look over. I wouldn’t and I couldn’t. If I did, I just knew that it would be over. My eyes burned to dart over to the right; to look out of the window and see what there was to see.


Sweat beaded on my brow, and eventually spilled over into my eye. I blinked rapidly but kept my eyes trained on the ceiling. I stared so hard at it that my vision began to turn grey around the edges. I needed to sleep, but there was no way I could do that while it was out there, waiting for me to look at it.Continue Reading

I Have To Get Some Sleep

Dread is an interesting feeling. It creeps up on you; first starting out as a simple worry, and then transcending into anxiety, and finally tingling its way into full on dread. If you’re a person sensitive enough to your surroundings, almost anything can bring on a small worry. Some people have the tendency to turn those worries into anxiety. That’s usually where it stops; you have a little anxiety over something, but you have a drink or read a book or meditate and you get over it. A smaller percentage still suffer from anxiety or panic attacks, where they let their worries build inside of them until it seems to be all-consuming and powerful. These people often seek treatment in the form of anxiety medication.

But a smaller population still isn’t helped by this type of medication. These people experience bouts of dread which make a panic attack look like a walk in the park on a sunny day. Dread isn’t just a feeling that things are about to take a bad turn. Dread is the feeling of an all-consuming malevolent force actively hunting you, somehow always right behind you. Dread is the idea that you’re not actually alone in that forest clearing after all; that something is watching you from just beyond the trees. Dread isn’t a pair of glowing yellow eyes in those trees, though. It’s much more insidious than that. Dread is the idea that you just saw the yellow eyes as you were scanning the treeline, but then when you look back, they’re gone.Continue Reading

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