• Increase font size
  • Default font size
  • Decrease font size
Best Stories on the Web

Randall's Clown

E-mail Print

Randall Jensen woke up very early today.  Today was his first day of school.  The five year old dressed himself in the clothes that were laid out for him, and then ran wildly down the stairs.  He quickly fixed himself a bowl of cereal and ate it down.  He then started playing with his toy truck to pass the time while his mother slowly awoke and prepared for her day.

While playing with the truck, a figure appeared before Randall.  The figure was adult in size, somewhat translucent, and looked like a clown.  He had a seriously silly smile on his face which seemed fixed in place.  His eyes locked onto Randall and didn't veer away.

“Randall...Randall...wanna have some fun?” asked the clown.


For Rome

E-mail Print

Breakfast was impossible. Hard bread was never the most appetising of meals, but that morning I just could not find the courage to force it down. The sun was so hot and the bread so dry, my lips so chapped and my stomach so tight.

This unease had been building in me for weeks. At first I thought it was just seasickness, but we had reached land days ago and yet still it remained. I knew what was causing it, but I had so far refused to admit to such un-Roman weakness . Now, however, it had grown so strong that I could no longer ignore it; it was so much bigger than me.

I sat down on a dune and looked out over the bay. Despite the sickness of my mind, I tried to see things as I ought to.


Beyond the Elder Tree

E-mail Print

It had seemed like a great idea at first: Timmy and one of his fellow scouts doing a wildlife survey on the small Channel Island of Mere. Two nights away camping with no adult supervision - Awesome!

Timmy had read up on the uninhabited island prior to the crossing. Mere was made up of rugged heathland and undisturbed woodland. With over forty native species of trees and shrubs Mere was a private wildlife haven for dozens of species of birds, red squirrels and a host of insects. Timmy loved conservation work and this was going to be a great weekend. That was until Lucas Jones volunteered for the second of the two places.


Cry of the Wendigo

E-mail Print

The Wendigio is a supernatural, cannibal creature of Native American folklore, said to prowl the deep Canadian and Alaskan forests. In the southern United States, its counterpart, the legendary Rougaroo, combs the swamps for victims. On the western plains, it is known as the Camp Eater, devouring whole villages and tribes. All three possess incredible strength and speed, and the hunger of a werewolf. There is no escape for those who run afoul of such a beast.

This tale takes place in the frozen Alaskan wasteland, where an Aleut tribe has always known such monsters exist. They stand ready to kill anyone tainted by the curse.


The unfortunate young girl’s name was Akkilokipok; in the Aleut language this meant soft snow. And when Soft Snow became pregnant, she swore she had been with no man.


The Pill

E-mail Print

I say to him “I thought you liked orange juice with the bits in it” and he says “No I like orange juice without the bits in it” and as it’s only been 45 minutes since he told me he bumped into Kate last night and she looked “pretty sexy…like some kind of, you know, hostess”, I take his glass of orange juice (with the bits in it) and I throw it across the room so it hits the corner of his wooden bed frame and smashes across the floor. I’m glad the little pieces of glass fly in all kinds of directions so I can only hope that he tramples on a chunk. I leave his stupid shared house, full of arrogant pigs, and I storm home to think about what I can do next.

I sit on my bed to gather my furious thoughts and then I hear an annoying, high pitched, buzzing sound coming from my dvd player. I consider throwing it out the window but it’s too heavy and I don’t want to make a mess. I pull the plug out and in a state of exaggerated rage I carry it to a charity shop. The sweaty and slightly overweight guy in the charity shop says “Thanks for your donation” and I go home, change my bed sheets and feel much better for 3 minutes. Then I think about smashing up everything in my kitchen but again, I don’t want to make a mess.


Whizbang the Magnificent

E-mail Print

Whizbang the magnificent, he had added 'the magnificent' himself, had finally done it. After years of searching and studying he had discovered a spell that would transform him into the most powerful wizard that ever existed.

Now Whizbang was not, at present, a great wizard. He had some control over weather, and he was quite adept at handling lightning, but he dreamed of being WHIZBANG THE ALL-POWERFUL! He already had business cards printed, with bold lettering.


Blood for the Blood God

E-mail Print

"Yes, now and forever" It whispers, followed by incoherent profanity...

The figure approaches the house, through the window it stares.

A grin appears on its face, "The time is near" it murmurs.

It walks to the back door of the house and walks in like it’s at home. Silently it floats up the stairs and enters a bed room. It pulls up its hood and pauses, it listens for a while to the soft breathing. It walks over and leans over the bed. It raises one arm forward, with the other it reaches into his robe and pulls out a cruel shaped ceremonial knife with kill written in blood all over the hilt. It pauses and then suddenly screeches as it slashes its wrist. Blood spurts all over the silhouette, There is no movement in the bed.

"Blood for the Blood God," it screeches.

Blood drips down the figures arm as a dark mist slowly engulfs the room, revolving around the shadowy figure slowly. The gash starts to close up and as the figure examines it’s now healed wound. The body in the bed suddenly sits up and turns its head to the figure robotically, his eyes glowing red.

"The path of destruction" the little boy says in a soft voice as he stands up.

The figure gleefully nods his head and starts to walk. The figure walks out of the room, down the stairs and through the back door of the house. The figure doesn’t look back once and the boy walks silently, lifelessly behind.

The boy listens to the figure as it gleefully mumbles incoherently to its self.

"Blood for the Blood God" it rambles over and over again more and more excitedly each time, sometimes jumping with joy.

Through the dark misty forest they walk together. The blood moon smiling at them as they arrive at an opening with a stone chair in the center, the boy walks over and sits down. The figure excitedly looks at the boy with anticipation. The boy stares off into the distance with a blank expression on his face.

The figure kneels and says "How may I serve you lord" as he removes his hood. Revealing a grotesque disease ridden face.

The boy with eyes glowing crimson red looks the figure in the eyes and utters "In death"

The figure now noticeably alarmed yells, "but, but, no, buu--t.."

He tried to flee, the space around them darkens and the black mist pulls him back and forces the man to kneel.

"Nooooooo!" he sobbingly screams.

A blood red circle surrounds the figure, markings form on its body and they too start to glow red. The figure is stretched out and across the circle without effort, left trapped and unable to move. The mist darkens further and engulfs the figure.

It wails "baahhh" as blood spurts out of the glowing markings in every direction.

It screams whilst its bones are being ripped out through its skin, they all snap and turn to dust, the remaining matter then explodes over and over again dispersing it over the vicinity. The cycle is repeated over and over again, the figure appears, it screams as it fades away only to come back again.


The Three Dolls

E-mail Print

Maaaammy” “Maaaammy” “Maaaammy”...the woman jolted awake and noticed the sun was going down. Three days before Halloween. The car rumbled on… more and more bone-bare trees appeared as they entered a deep forest landscape. As her little girl slept in the back of the car, Jane Wilson struggled to keep awake, casting the odd glance towards Andrew, her husband, his glasses flashing as he stared ahead, driving the car.


The Oldest Woman in the World

E-mail Print

Carlo left his office around eight-thiry in the evening. His wife had told him that she'd be late home because of a work dinner, so he stopped off for a pizza at the Chinese takeaway just downstairs from his flat. As soon as he opened the flat door, he smelt a strange odour like something had gone off- not too strong, but annoying. He turned on the lights, put his pizza down on the kitchen table and checked the fridge. Apart from a carton of milk that went off yesterday which didn't smell yet, he couldn't find anything worthy of emitting such a sharp stink.


The Point

E-mail Print

"Two hours," Kyle said.

I nodded.

"Two hours and that kid hasn't shut up for one minute.

Ray, let's just blow him away as soon as he comes out of the bathroom, we'll tell Jesse and Jay it was an accident."

"We can't do that.  Now just relax.  It won't be long."


Page 4 of 48

Sign Up for Info!

Featured Stories

Written by: Saul Greenblatt
Don Carter, a fifty-five-year-old shoe salesman, decided to bite the bullet, and buy a computer. All his friends and colleagues... Read more..

Written by: Jim Bartlett
He steps up to the glass, staring out at powder white sand that stretches to meet an ocean so blue, he has to remind himself... Read more..

Buy Featured Story Placement