We took some time off from our Horror Story of the Week selections due to a lack of submissions. Well, submissions have picked up, and we’re seeing some great work come in.
Speaking of great, you may want to check out The Grove from HR Arswyd, it’s a fine read.
Check out a sample below, and if you like what you read, follow the link at the bottom of this post, or select ‘Week Three’ from the Horror Story of the Week drop down tab!
Written by: HR Arswyd
He wasn’t dead, he knew that. He knew that because he could still see and eventually his hearing had come back, although his head still throbbed miserably. When he finally regained consciousness, he couldn’t understand why he seemed frozen in place, unable to move anything but his eyes. He tried to reason it out, but everything was muddled and he felt sleepy. It was hard to gauge time; he tried briefly to count to ten but gave up, deciding that it was no use since he couldn’t calibrate whether he was counting quickly or slowly.
Occasionally, comets seemed to float regally over his head, flaring to brilliance then slowly fading out as they gently drifted. Brilliant stars chased one another across his field of vision. It all seemed festive and cheerful but somewhere deep inside he felt an instinctive dread of them, especially the white-hot tracery of the stars.
He realized the night was darker now, and that gave him further proof that he was still living–but why couldn’t he move? Panic suddenly gripped him; he tried desperately to get back on his feet, willing his body to get up, but to no avail. He could hear his breathing coming now in gasps and pants as the panic surged. He tried to move just an arm, nothing. Wiggle his fingers, nothing. In growing terror he turned his head–no, he tried to turn it but his eyes remained looking in the same direction they had been staring since he had awakened–who knew how long ago?
Hysteria and terror poured over him, suffocating him like grave dirt. He wanted to scream, but some primal survival instinct suppressed his urge to cry out, to make any noise at all. Another comet burst forth in bright brilliance, suffusing everything with a stark, silver -white light and momentarily distracting him. By its light, he became aware of a mist slowly rising from the mud around him, its vapor shimmering brightly. Again the stars chased one another, other stars chased each other the opposite direction, crisscrossing the sky like a confused, angry meteor shower. He became aware of the cacophony of loud, rhythmic booming that accompanied the shooting stars. He heard the sharp snap-crack as stars flew close past his head and the strange, wet, thud-sizzle when they sometimes flew into the mud near him.
The comet abruptly burned out and, for a moment, the shooting stars burned all-the-brighter, then they, too ceased; leaving him alone in the dark, still unable to move.