Mostrando resultados por autor "Mace Styx" en Todas las categorías

The photographs, under a title that described the image’s contents in the crudest possible terms, were of Kristen. In the bedroom, in our living room, getting into and out of the shower. Even standing before the cooker top, wearing just an oversized pullover and a red thong as she prepared pasta. I felt sick as the implications began to sink in. Not only were these invasive and highly intimate photographs that had somehow made their way onto a public platform, they were photographs that she clearly believed that I had taken and disseminated.

“You mean…you’re not coming in with me?” Hayley asked, feeling something in her stomach drop, though she didn’t know what she’d been expecting. Amber flashed Hayley a smile that was half-regret, half pitying.

Enjoy this short story by Mace Styx. George heaved a great sigh, dragging a hand over his face. “Rebecca...do you recall when your mother was pregnant with Orin?” he asked. “I don’t suppose you do”. Rebecca frowned in thought, then shook her head. “Not very well”, she said. “I would have only been around eight years old at the time. But I remembered she was bedridden during the last couple of months, wasn’t she”? “She nearly died”. George replied, and Amelia visibly flinched".

In reality, in real actual life, that kind of magic doesn’t belong to one group and the object doesn’t have to look like them at all. It doesn't even have to look like a person. As long as you wish, dream, and know hard enough, it can be anything. A stick, a leaf, a piece of fruit, a candle. My grandmother used to do with an egg. She would write the name of the person onto the surface of a hen’s egg and then...picking up a rock, she would smash - Smash! Smash! - the top, so that it fractured and dented, yolk spilling and oozing out everywhere!

“So? It’s not like it’s going to kill her or anything. She might just have to go to the hospital for a couple of hours,” Cody said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, after everything she’s done to us, who cares if she gets sick? She shouldn’t be a teacher if she can’t handle it.” Derek couldn’t think of a counter argument to that nonsense. Telling Cody they could get in big trouble would have sailed right over his head, because Cody didn’t care about being sent home. He lived in the moment and treated the future as something he had no control over. “There!”

At a town meeting it was suggested that the border point be better enforced. That by allowing the others across, we were somehow allowing wolves in sheep’s clothing to enter into our town. That amongst those fleeing bullets and bombs, were a few who hid weapons of their own and who meant to feed on the local population. A few stood to oppose such a view but were shouted down by two men screaming about how the "others" had brought the curse with them, that while they themselves might not be vampires, they had carried the smell of death with them and the creatures had followed it.

"No.” She admitted, guiltily. “I am sorry. If I enter the darkness, it would grab me before I can fetch you anything to get the fire going.” Sam nodded. He had faced death before. But every time, there was hope, a fighting chance. This time, he could do nothing. Emily visibly shuddered. “He will have me, place its scythe through my soul. It allows it to control the agony my soul receives. Then, until the morning, I will keep suffering. Every moment feels like an eternity. I might switch to my other personalities, just to escape the pain.”

The Reaper did not speak. He did not even move, for what need did he have to chase anyone? Everyone comes to him eventually. Men, women, and gods all are consumed in his ever waiting black. Clive, sighing deeply, turned to look Death in the face. In the form he took for Clive, Death stood around seven feet tall, the hood of his monk’s cowl falling to just above the bridge of the nose, had there been a nose to speak of. Instead, there was simply a hole, a cavernous nothing, like death itself.

Enjoy this short story by Mace Styx.

On the first day of my stay, I just spent most of my time roaming about the woods and taking pictures. The selling point of this place was undoubtedly the beautiful nature that was surrounding it. I didn’t use the motor bike since its noise would scare away the animals, and I was able to take some great shots of the gorgeous scenery and its inhabitants. As I was strolling, I noticed some peculiar etchings on the trees that were clearly carved by a human. It was some kind of sigils or characters that were foreign to me.

She closed her eyes. Her house sounded different. She could hear animals scurrying outside, the wind blowing faintly off the treetops and murmuring. It was as if her whole neighborhood was now in range of her ears. Opening her eyes abruptly, she decided she would do something besides eavesdrop on the neighborhood. She picked up her notepad and flipped to the back. She found a pencil and began drawing - nothing in particular. When she had finished, she marveled at it in confusion. It looked like some sort of cave system. Shrugging, she picked up her notepad and began scribbling.

Feems explained, with the use of a tiny bowl, what the whole thing was about and the science behind how it worked. He never quite got to the point where he explained how in God’s name he had convinced them to let him do it, but we didn’t care. “So, the swimming pool is going to be emptied in the next fortnight, all the pumps replaced to get ready for the big swim meet. So, before they replace everything, I’ve convinced them to let me have a go with the swimming pool to do an experiment.”

The problem with the area, especially at night, was that it backed onto the woods. This being England, and the wildlife of England being what it is, there was no threat from any animals. There might, on occasion, be the odd stray dog out there, but even that wasn’t anything to really worry about. Yet, several members of staff, who would happily take out the bags full of waste in the daylight, refused to even entertain the idea of going out there at night.

She blinked at Sir Farridan’s sudden entrance. He was surprised by how ordinary-looking she was, for a princess - they were supposed to be wispy little things, delicate and ungodly beautiful. Princess Idrun wore a simple white gown, her unruly blonde hair falling down to her hips, a greenish cast to it in the light. How will Sir Farridan rescue a princess who doesn't want to be rescued?

Oliver spoke first, the only one who could initially find their voice and start what they came here to do. “Is anyone here with us?” And just like that, the planchette began to move. Slowly, it made its way to "yes". "Are you the girl they say haunts this bridge?" Charlotte asked. The night around them suddenly got darker, pitch-black, and it got windy, with the sound it made under the bridge sounding faintly like screams. The planchette then moved from "yes" to "no". Nora gasped, bringing her free hand to her mouth, looking at Oliver for comfort.

A new message. She was glad for a little distraction. Without pausing from walking, she let her fingers skillfully reply to the text. The second she pressed the send button, her music cut back on at full blast, startling her. Her phone slipped out of her grip and slammed onto the street. Wincing, she picked it up slowly, still spooked by the event that had just taken place. Her heart was now thumping rapidly. She practically ran to her street before looking both ways. With each step, her chest tightened.

All of a sudden, the light in the room went out, then came back on again. The girls froze in their tracks. They all stared at each other, their eyes regarding one another. Then they began to laugh again. A sickening one that rang through the walls. Then the light went out again. The room was shrouded in a stiffening darkness. The girls waited, but this time, the light never came back on. Fear like the slow thrust of an injection begin to enter their body.

"Don’t be a fool! There’s no such thing as aliens, Roxy," Branden said in a tight, strangled voice. "Let’s get Frank out of this damn water." He wrapped his arms around Frank who was now moaning and wailing like a baby. They all surrounded Frank. Gathering their strength, they heaved him up, and as they began to make their way towards shore. They all heard another thunder-like ricochet. But this time, it was multiple ones, and they were undoubtedly fired at them.

He looked as if he couldn’t believe what he seeing, and he was both confused and alarmed. He was struggling to explain what he was seeing in English and just decided to convey it with some hand gestures. He showed the two travelers a trace of something that slithered on the ground with a body of at least two feet thick. Jade questioned their guide’s judgement and began to explain to him that what he was describing was borderline mythical. As Jade was explaining, their attention was caught by a sound of rustling in the trees.

Enjoy this short story by Mace Styx. "I remember waking once from a horrible dream, in which I looked down and saw the clown’s enormous mouth, its massive, wall sized face at the end of my bed and felt myself being dragged...dragged though I kicked and screamed, fighting against the covers. Thrashing and flailing for purchase, closer and closer to the red rimmed mouth, filled with murderous hanging teeth that waited, hungry to chew and devour me as the clown continued to smile".