He Got Me Home Safe
I remember getting into the Uber.
At least I think I do.
I remember the driver saying my name before I even opened the door. I remember warm air blowing from the vents. The smell of cigarettes buried beneath cheap pine air fresheners. I remember resting my head against the window and watching the college bars blur into ribbons of red and blue light.
Then nothing.
Until the dreams started.
I Love My Wife…or at Least She Tells Me I Love Her
“You love me,” she whispered from the darkness behind me.
I wanted to run. God, I wanted to run, but even after the blood, the cages, and the thing feeding from my throat at night… part of me still wanted to turn around and go back to her.
That was the worst part about loving a monster.
I Found the Archived Blog of the Moderator Who Removed My Story
Every time I remove one of the stories, it comes back knowing more. The whispers are changing now. More coherent. It keeps asking me the same questions over and over:
Is this believable?
Does this feel immersive?
We Should Have Turned Back
You hear things. See things. After awhile, you stop knowing which ones are real.
Dream State
The hum followed him through the hall like breath behind glass. It rose and fell with his steps, adjusting to match his pace. Pipes along the ceiling trembled when he passed, exhaling a thin breath, as though the ship were pretending to be still.
We Always Collect
“We always collect what’s owed.”
“The first night is free. But it always costs something. Sleep is sacred. We don’t do refunds.”