Tag: short story
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The Missing
Those that kill, believe dead men tell no tales. But the dead can speak. They find a way. With my help, I take that message to the living. The call came late on a dreary afternoon, the grey skies and drizzle of another English winter, given up on its seasons. Inside a squad car, reduced…
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Heaven From Hell
The furnace of the sun was relentless. Heat rose and shimmered from black tarmac, forming strange wavering mirages, as if the ghosts of millennia were awakening. Sara shuffled along, wiping sweat from her eyes, conserving energy as best she could. Shade, sought and offered on the street by thin and sparse trees, gave some form…
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Testament – Part 2
Before you start reading this post, I suggest you read “Testament” by Jack Tyler at this link [https://threadsthatbind.net/2025/01/30/testament/] first. Jack posted this story here on the blog and I loved it. However, the story ends on a huge cliffhanger—and immediately a continuation/conclusion came to my mind. I asked Jack if he would mind me writing…
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A Deadly Reunion
Light poured from the open doorway, red neon trickling over wet pavement like blood from an open wound. An arterial thumping pounded inside my head in time to the beat of music that seeped from the party inside. I swallowed. This really wasn’t how I’d envisaged meeting her. But it had to be done. Twenty-five…
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PICKLEBALL ZOMBIES
Our Thursday blog posts have of late been largely educational in nature, which is a Good Thing. But although I always appreciate them for their relevance, timeliness, and thoughtfulness, I decided to instead opt for a little comic relief this time around. After a hiatus, I got back into playing tennis last year while our…
Garrett Dennis
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Daddy’s Little Bird
The exterior security gate slid shut behind me with its usual finality. I paused between the fences, noticing a hawk circling overhead, its presence serving as an unwanted and grim reminder. Deep within the high-security establishment, locked away, I imagined her head slightly tilted, watching, much like that predatory bird above me. The memory still…
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Horror in the Hundreds: There is no house except THE house
by William J. Jackson GOOD DAY TO YOU. I SEE YOU’VE ONCE AGAIN COME TO DELAWARE FOR A RELAXING SUMMER. THE BEACHES ARE CLOSED. BUT VALMAR IS OPEN. PITY… With passionate regret I purchased the house where Clotilde died. She rested now, immaculate in a lawn that never needed mowing, beneath a stone cross…
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AT THE AUCTION BLOCK FOR RUPTURED SOULS (a Horror In The Hundreds short story)
[WARNING: While looking for a new story, you chanced upon the quaint shores and fertile pines of Delaware. But the First State and its unique hundreds are not for the feint of heart…] Valmar, Delaware The Creek Motel, Room 17 February 22, 1970 “Torture be more art to them than labor, blood excites their eyes.…
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HORROR IN THE HUNDREDS: A SCENT OF MAGNETOPHON
Howdy. It’s that time again. You’ve decided to leave the region you know well in search of a more exotic locale. But you also want something familiar, a singular taste of home situated in a neighborhood not your own. Unfortunately, you chose Valmar, ‘The Gothic Heart Of Delaware,’ as your destination. But while you’re here,…
Will Mowass
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WILD WAILING IN THE WOOD
Howdy. Would you like to hear of another tale from the wicked land of Valmar, Delaware? Well then, here you are. Stay aware, and stay safe. SEPTEMBER 10th, 1970 Middle age injected a yearning for the hunting life into me, and so, on the advice of a friend, I purchased a small house in the…
Threads that Bind 