Supernatural stories include themes such as vampires, werewolves, witches, myths, paranormal activity and ghosts.
Spine-tingling, chilling tales can revolve entirely around mythical characters or depict non-human creatures interacting with mortals in everyday life.
The two young girls played vivaciously in the cool water by the glade. As they splashed and frolicked, their laughter echoed around the mountain valley. The surrounding trees, comprising primarily of larch, beech, and spruce - and, of course, oak – gently...
Cold in this studio, sweet hypothermia with rigor's cummerbund. Curling around me coldly misty shadow, touching. Rising to the moonlight a little death-chilling. Laying me down in a land of dreams, spilling the skeins. Naked in my darkest dreams collabora...
Monsters I have created under my bed of twilight's annihilation to be fed meat-based ground bait called chum of dark's pickle herring marinated in rum for me and my boogie banded gadroon wafting dead's perfumery bloom of twilight's annihilation to be fed
Paying dues to the fortuneteller listening to your breath from speakers in my mind like whispers in a teacup taking refuge inside your dreams "Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood!" behind the shadow takers with your personalized keychain in everything that...
With gothic melodies, peat's dark hole listing to twilight's pale shade of the saplings chaffed wheat and pallid hours, soundless tweet a tempest within my ominous sagaciously winging your soul, cold blows the midnight songs lurking the beast, in my am in...
Among the dead, we are curious. We are haunted. You scream for ice cream, and we scream out of loneliness. Walking the halls of death leaving no footprints or shadows. At times tossed out with the trash, once scented, now lost. As ghosts, we have no pedig...
The Hootie Hoot and I, my gall set me free in moral decay as the carrion's filet, squandering away with death's bitter aftertaste rising with decadence yeast, cloistered with my goiter as if a requiem for an oyster, the Hootie Hoot and I
I’d known Martin for over thirty years, since I was a boy, in fact. He has always been like an uncle to me. There is no blood relation between us; he just kind of took me under his wing, so to speak. Perhaps I should explain. I live in a small village, Al...
Playing truant was always appealing. Always. Two nine-year-olds deep into their school days would always know better than what adults told them. Your years in school were not the best days of your life, and you don’t need to attend classes to get clever t...
July 1822... Percy Shelley had been reckless ignoring the storm warnings, and the violent squall would not be outrun. Moments before tumultuous waves engulfed the Don Juan and its sailors, Percy shoved a book of Keat's poems into his pocket. Most appropri...
Birdie’s son left in the Spring. She rarely saw him in that last six months he’d lived there anyway. He'd worked full time at Domino’s, came home after midnight, went straight into his room in the basement. She heard the TV. She heard the trips to the fri...
I’ve got my headphones on and the music’s blasting round my mind, courtesy of the wonders of Spotify, as I stand in the shop and look at the clothes. I’m listening to a Small Faces show from 1966 in Belgium, newly discovered they’re saying. It’s the earli...
"Beep!" A coke can. "Beep!" Rusty barbed wire. Every time Derek got a response from his metal detector, it turned out to be another worthless item. The farmer always gave him permission to check out his field after the autumn ploughing, and all day he had...
October 27th, 1814, and the wind blowing over the clouded northern moors had winter on its breath and darkness in its heart. Rustling over the heather, hissing through the bracken before moaning down the slopes of the natural bowl which couched the still...
