From the moment I got on the train, I felt him staring at me. We were the only ones there. It was 2am.
“Just a random weirdo,” I thought. “Probably harmless.”
It was little comfort. I’d heard enough horror stories about the subway to know that if he wanted to hurt me, there’d be nothing to stop him.
I tried to focus on my phone while knowing he was still focusing on me. His glare was icy and dispassionate. Predatory. Despite it being late July in a hot subway car, I was covered in goosebumps.
“When’s the next stop?” I wondered. The ride felt like it was taking forever. Discomfort and fear began to swell inside my chest.
“Maybe I should sneak a picture of him, just in case he tries something. The cops can go through my phone and find out who hurt me. …or who killed me.” Continue reading “Never Ride the Subway at Night”
(Horror stories about parties.)
“I don’t like him,” Jeri whispered. “He’s weird.”
I looked at the guy sitting alone on the couch in the corner. Lanky. Pale. Brooding. He seemed out of place. I wondered if he was someone’s date who’d gone forgotten.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Jer,” I replied. “Haven’t you seen that credit card ad?”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I don’t want to be around when he starts shooting up the place.”
“Jesus!” I hissed. “What’s wrong with you?”
“This is a party, Kay. People are supposed to be having fun, not being miserable.” Continue reading “The Worst Party In Ten Thousand Years”
(A scary story about hunting.)
“We’ve been out here for four hours,” Red complained. I winced as whiskey and gingivitis breath wafted across my face.
“We’re getting this fuckin’ moose,” I answered. “Dad said we wouldn’t be able to, so that means we’re gonna. I don’t care if we starve to death up here.”
Red belched out another complaint, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was thinking about bagging that son of a bitch. It’d been tearing up Mom’s garden and shitting all over the yard. She’d missed out on being in the latest flower show after all her prize petunias got eaten.
No more. “Never again,” as they say. I’d be mounting that antlered head over the fireplace before the weekend was over.
“What’s that over there?” Red asked, pointing out ahead of us. I followed his finger. Continue reading “The Moose Hunt”