Comedic Carnage • Masterpiece Overlook
As someone who laughs at the most grotesque and graphic scenes in everyone’s favourite horror films, I’ve never been a huge fan of comedy. I like to laugh, and I certainly understand the appeal, but the genre often feels forced. It frequently feels as though writers find one bankable trope and recycle the same plot, changing little more than the setting until the comedic factor is stretched far too thin.
Masterpiece Overlook • Time Capsule • Monstrous Menagerie
Discretion Advised:
This short story contains depictions that may be disturbing to some readers. It may not be appropriate for readers under 18 years. | Horror | Thriller |
It was her first day of rest in weeks. The first day she had no obligations, no engagements, and the only thing demanding her attention was her one hundred-pound Supermutt, Artos. He was sniffing his way through the yard now, investigating every scent trail that piqued his interest while she smoked the day's first cigarette. The air was cool and damp under a grey sky, a mist lingered from the passing storm. She lived for days like this. For the scent of the trees, and for the rejuvenated curiosity of Artos as he sloshed around the wet grass. A sense of contentment settled around her. She whistled and Artos trotted through the open door, he sat to the side waiting to be dried off—that was his favourite part—while she finished her cigarette just outside of the door.
She stepped inside and reached for the towel draped over the shoe rack by the door, but Artos didn’t hop as he typically would. Instead, he stayed still, his watchful eyes focused on the open door. She looked over her shoulder, fresh rain overfilled the gutters and cascaded over the awning. “It’s okay, bubba, it’s just the rain.” She took a playful step in his direction, and he sidestepped, his trained eyes never losing focus. Thinking distant thunder may be to blame, she reached to close the door, but something stopped it before it could latch. Her hands pressed against the resistance and the door burst open, jamming her shoulder and upsetting her balance. A sinister male figure filled the doorway, Artos lunged forward as the man forced his way into the room. Horror/Thriller
Hello! Can anyone hear me? Hello!
The ground was damp from yesterday’s rain; the sky still overcast like more rain was to come. Her mother sat on the front porch steps, staring at the tree line. A part of her wanted to scream, part of her wanted to sleep — all of her wished Dahlia back. “You would think there would be tracks, footprints — anything, right?” The sun settled behind the trees, the cool evening fog hovering like a wall before the brush. She was exhausted. Trying to rationalize the day proved impossible. “Maybe you should get some rest. We’ve done all we can, for today. Start fresh in the morning,” He helped her to her feet and ushered her inside. Her mechanical body was feeling heavy under the weight of gravity and buckled as she reached the bed. “I don’t understand it, Freddie…where has she gone?” Horror/Thriller
Teenage angst beseeched, and I rolled my eyes, “I could miss traffic just fine, if you weren’t making me go to this stupid family reunion… didn’t we just see everybody at Christmas?”
Of course, she tried, she always tried, “They won’t all be around forever — it’ll be fun, if you let it…” and she wasn’t wrong. Ever watch those old cartoons where everyone lives in a mushroom or a tree stump — all the maternal villagers always have button noses and round rumps? That was her. That was my mom. I shook my head and rolled my eyes again, mumbling some concession under my breath. No point in arguing. This battle wouldn’t be won — not that that would stop me from grumbling and sharing my misery along the way. We piled into the car, my headphones loud enough to drown them out. Three hours later, I have to pee, and we’ve been at a standstill for two hours, “We have not moved for two hours — can we just, go home?” I knew the answer, so neither of them bothered to respond, “Oh, okay, cool, I’ll just piss myself in the backseat." |
Sheena MonsterThey/Them/Theirs 
Naming the things that society works hardest to ignore, to reclaim the humanity stripped by systemic deception.
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