Tobias sat in the hospital lobby with his head in his hands, fighting dizziness and nausea as he waited for someone-anyone-to bring him news. He was escorted from the delivery room when he fell up into the ceiling. Vertigo did not mix well with his gravity control.
He was grateful he was no longer burdened by his demon at least; the stress he felt now would surely have brought Mr. Smiley to life.
He forced out a shaky breath as he raised his head to look at the clock for the twelfth time. His hands felt empty and useless as they grappled with each other. He wished he had something to do.
He’d tried reading, but he could only stare blank
John: So how do we do this? Just, start talking and…
Elsa: Whenever you’re ready just go ahead, and I’ll ask you some questions. It’s up to you whether or not you want to answer them.
John: What do I start with?
Elsa: With whatever you want. Whatever you feel is most appropriate.
John: Well, you should probably know that I’m only here because my mother wants me to talk to you. I honestly don’t think I need it, but my mother said that my job covered the insurance fee so what was the loss.
Elsa: There’s no shame in coming here, John. There’s no judgment here. Just honesty.
John: Yeah. Well,
Herman remained a mystery to Shyla despite working so closely with him for the past two weeks.
She had first noticed him lurking in her front yard, and had approached him with curiosity; he seemed friendly enough, despite his somewhat abrasive personality, and they had become close friends very quickly. She was impressed with his natural aptitude for technology, but he explained that gnomes were keenly interested in anything new.
Herman was a garden gnome, complete with white beard and red hat; of course Herman refuted the ‘garden’ part, since that was stereotyping, but he dealt with the title as best he could.
“Calibration
The Rotting Man (Part 1) by weekendhunters, literature
Literature
The Rotting Man (Part 1)
"This is how you get yourself dead, my friend," the shambling figure in front of me said, its figure barely visible in the bleak darkness of the night. I froze by the wall, too terrified to move or plan anything effectively. I stood there, sweat pouring down my face despite the damp coolness of the night, horrified and recalling how I ended up here in the first place.
It happened earlier today, when my friends and I swapped stories about local ghost stories and legends, with the usual trite stories about vampires, rumours about serial killers hiding inside people's cars, haunted houses, variations of Bloody Mary or some stupid scho
The Rotting Man (Part 3) by weekendhunters, literature
Literature
The Rotting Man (Part 3)
"Hellooo?" Seth called out as he cracked the factory's doors open.
"Oh, good job, Seth," I groaned. "Alert that thing that we're around, will you? Just brilliant, bro. Just freakin' brilliant."
"Whatever, man," he said dismissively as he walked into the factory, flashing his torch light around. "I want him to know we mean business."
I rolled my eyes. "You mean you mean business, Seth. Let's all shout and run around and get the attention of a some monster, who, by the way, moves really fast, and should I remind you, is a cannibal?"
"Hey, come on now," Alaina said. "There's no need to fight, guys."
"She's right," Jam
The Rotting Man (Part 4) by weekendhunters, literature
Literature
The Rotting Man (Part 4)
"Man, what's taking him so long?" I complained, looking up towards the stairwell we came from earlier.
"I don't know," Seth replied, looking at his watch. "Let's go upstairs and tell him to hurry up."
"Right," Alaina said, "let's go then."
But as soon as we stepped on the first steps on the stairwell, Alaina heard something that made her stop. "Hold up, guys," she whispered,
her hand blocking us from proceeding. "Hear that?"
"Heheheheheheheheheheheheh," a faint cackling voice came from upstairs, followed by a faint skittering noise, and we stood there, numb with shock and surprise, until the noise became inaudible.