Category Archives: Short Stories

The Mirror in the Basement of Waverly Manor – Part 3

If you haven’t read parts 1 or 2, read them first! I kneeled for what seemed like hours with Agatha’s sanguineous cries taunting me as they echoed all around. It sounded as if I were trapped in a tight cave rather than an endless white void. With this, the seeds of my madness were sown,Continue reading “The Mirror in the Basement of Waverly Manor – Part 3”

The Mirror in the Basement of Waverly Manor – Part 2

This time, it was undeniable; the sound was coming from the mirror. I approached and warily tugged on the canvas. It slid into a heap on the ground, revealing my reflected self in the impeccably clean mirror. I waved my hand, and my reflection followed. I made a goofy face, and my image dutifully followed suit, just as a mirror should. Only after a few more erratic motions did I realize that the reflection was moving ever so slightly slower than I, as if it were on a delay.

The Mirror in the Basement of Waverly Manor – Part 1

I leaned against one of the pieces and accidentally knocked off its canvas covering, revealing a luxurious full-body mirror with ornate mahogany carvings around the edges. I instantly became transfixed by my reflection, unable to tear myself away. An eerie grin began to creep across my reflected face when, suddenly, Mrs. Waverly dashed across the room with surprising speed and threw the canvas like a cast net. For a brief moment, a visage of hopeless terror flashed across my face in the mirror.

Short Story: “The Onion Boy”

The Onion Boy does not sleep, for night is the time he furtively toils, collecting and consuming dreams. His appetite is never satisfied. He moves on to the next sleeping victim with the prior still weighing freshly in his stomach — for he is sure they will be digested in time for his next meal.

CAPTCHA

4,900 words, ~20-minute read time. The accompanying blog post is linked here. Bright red text flashed on the screen:  “Fatal Error: Your password and/or CAPTCHA is incorrect.“ I gritted my teeth. My neck muscles tensed. An unhelpful pop-up appeared with this definition: “CAPTCHA stands for ‘Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and HumansContinue reading “CAPTCHA”

The Lonely Wolf

The first scant glimmers of the full moon seeped through the cloud coverage, and Max started to feel the transformation begin its infernal machinations inside him. He took a deep breath and stood, ready to change, when he heard a beautiful, lilting voice beckon from behind him.

Wrung Out

She is just starting to fill up her inanely large insulated tumbler, which reads “Cla$$y, Sa$$y, and a Bit Smart A$$y” in vulgar, cursive script and has a little Minion with a smug grin under it. The cooler filter isn’t changed regularly, so I’ll be subjected to Sherri’s babbling for at least another minute while her cup is filled drip by drip with PFA-laden tap water.

The Doll

Eggshell white paint, which somebody had applied carelessly in short, haphazard strokes, covered the doll’s face, and the streaks of rouge on each cheek could not prevent it from looking utterly pallid. Its stringy black hair formed a cowlick in the back of its head, and its tattered, muddy clothes looked like they might disintegrate if touched. The worst part was its eyes — spaced slightly further than expected from the center; the bright blue pupils were set on bulging wooden balls, conveying an uncannily real earnestness. He seemed coiled up, trying to break free and lunge at me.