50 Word Horror Story Contest 2024

618 thoughts on “50 Word Horror Story Contest 2024”

1. An aunt headed to her niece’s bedroom to tell a bedtime story. She entered the bedroom and saw her niece snuggled into bed. The aunt asked, “So what story do you wish to hear?” The girl replied, “Tell me a story about the shadow man that is always following you.”

2. She nestled close, savoring his familiar scent. His skin felt cool, comforting. In the darkness, she traced her fingers along his face, then recoiled in horror as decaying flesh sloughed off beneath her touch. A guttural moan escaped his lips. Too late, she realized death had joined her bed.

3. The old mirror hung in the attic, forgotten. One day, a curious girl looked into it, seeing her reflection smile back. Delighted, she visited daily, until the reflection spoke. “Let’s trade places,” it whispered. The girl agreed. Now, trapped behind the glass, she watches helplessly as the reflection lives her life.

4. She found the old book in the library, its pages yellowed and crumbling. As she read the ancient words aloud, the candles flickered, and shadows danced on the walls. A cold wind whipped through the room, and she heard a sinister laugh. The book fell from her hands, bursting into flames.

5. A full moon night, and driving five times over the speed limit . As my friends are in for the ride. Jamming to the car stereo; we are laughing. All of a sudden something appears in the middle of road . The car goes flying and bodies are laid on the ground.

6. The old mirror was a bargain. As I hung it, a face flashed in the reflection, but the room was empty. Days passed, glimpses of the face grew longer. One night, it spoke: “I’ve waited so long.” I turned to run, but bony hands gripped my shoulders from behind.

7. It was just after midnight, when I walked pass my daughter’s bedroom.
   And heard a moaning sound ..It was that sexualy type of
   sound.
   This was no way possible; cause she is only ten as I opened up her bedroom door
   I saw a Sokonyah on top of my daughter.

8. One night as I fell asleep I heard whispering so I sat up and looked around the room. A shadow caught my eye in the corner. Its back was turned towards me and I froze in place. It whispered, ” I come to tell you that he is ready for you.”

9. An old book in her attic showed Advena how to grow the biggest pumpkin to win the cash prize in her town’s Halloween contest. She gave her squash water, fertilizer, plenty of sunshine, but those alone wouldn’t be enough. That’s when the neighborhood cats began to disappear, then the kids.

10. She brought in a cake this time, neat, cursive cream over candles congratulating the hundredth draw I’ve given. She promised exoneration once they grew resistant for my blood. I willed my forearm, bracing for the prickle, but she just smiled, thumbed the icing and smeared my cheeks, “How eager!”

11. Jane lay unsleeping in the dark basement room. Her brother had told her about the creature, but she had not believed him. Now, though, staring through the black, she saw two red dots advancing slowly. Her breath caught. They were eyes.

    Only her brother heard her scream. Nobody believed him.

12. The priest shut his bible with a sweaty, shaking hand. “She’ll be fine now,” he whispered. He glanced toward the bed and shuddered.

    Her father rose. “You won’t,” he said in a deep brimstone voice.

13. Apprentice

    Emma works her knife over the jack-o’-lantern’s flesh, tapers the leering, accusatory mouth, widens empty eyes. Her stepmother’s features, just so.
    Draws the gleaming blade between unhearing ears.
    A centred candle bursts into flame.
    “Proof of the destructive power,” Master Carver has forewarned.
    Soon her father will be hers alone.

14. How could I ever forget when I refused to take my dead husband’s body . He wasn’t a good husband to me and to our kids . Refusing to take his body later that night.
    My husband’s bitter spirit stopped by . And just as evil he was alive, his spirit was too.

15. Blood flooded the funfair, yet the children feigned despair. Insurance made abandoning the rides easier. Spring bloomed, the now metal skeleton spilled guts of vine. Pioneers divvied up; cowards oversaw. Decapitated carousel horses made armies; rusted spaceships lowered gravity. Ticket machines spewed moldy stubs daily, awaiting to be fed again.

16. He licked his paw, dipping again, breaking ripples and batting soap islands. I dunked his tail, shivers tingling his spine, frantic meows crescendoing tranquil waters. He returned in fury, stalking the tub’s edge. A hiss then into the jugular, shoulders bunched, muzzle dripping crimson slurry, for my toes floated next.

17. The Underworld God stirred, smile splitting open before his eyelids could. The fortnight offerings promised taste of sweet rot on Hades’ tongue. Yet, the affection mortals displayed sacrificing maidens outside his windows hasn’t sate his yearning since Persephone’s release. “Time I interfered,” he vaulted the ledge, vanishing into the village.

18. Hotdog nestled in my palm had moistened from his sweat. No worries, salt enhances the flavor. But the chilly breeze leeching its heat? Hotdog but cold. “Colddog”. Sounds appetizing, or maybe I’m a glutton with lowering standards. I peeked down the cliff. With him gone, his lunch was now mine.

19. “Hairs from the same hare, both of ya,” gran-gran says when I remind her of ma. Lately, she’s pairing those with the scrunch I saw on ma’s face before she disappeared. If signs align, the furless hand reaches around gran-gran’s ears tonight, leaving me and a hutch of brothers behind.

20. Mom woke me to thread a needle. The narrow eyelet proved her eyes worsened with time. I fed the fiber through, knotted loops and placed it in her shaky hands.

    “Stitching this late, mama?”

    She merely waved lazily.

    I tucked in, drifting into sleep, drowning the man’s pleading next door.

21. Twill bounded the moleskin covers. Hidden in shelves, hoping folklore cursed beyond rooms. Nightly, her stories reeled. A child’s goldfish. She ran at sixteen once matchmakers busied. Odd jobs picked; ends barely sated. Yet, blotchy entries persisted as tether. Glued photographs hardened following pages, of lined cages and sore wrists.

22. The recipe called for groceries, but the exotics were meant for occasions. In remembrance to him seemed appropriate, yet frog legs were a mighty ask, Grandpa! Vegetarian us found it hard stomaching the vision, but the yak milk, apple core and cauldron surely be an afterlife prank, right?

23. “I leave my secret,” it said.

    Pretended not to care, but the will I inherited mapped late Grandma’s fortune.

    As the shovel clanged, I brushed soil off the sunken surface.

    Inside, I found adoption papers, kerosene and keys to the family manor.

    “Do what you must,” her final letter penned.

24. Postage alone drained his life savings, so I wondered why was I worth that much to him? My personality akin to white cement, looks above average only when I’m bathe. Oh! The subpar fangs. Surely, I could’ve come discounted. All this to stay immortal? Romantic fool clinging to bygone times.

25. In his mailbox:

    We have your brother. Ruth Road Gas Station. Fifty large. No cops.

    On the abandoned gas station door:

    Go to restroom. No cash, no brother. No cops.

    On restroom mirror, in blood:

    You should’ve called the cops.

    Behind the gas station:

    Two brothers, reunited.

26. A cursed village vanishes at midnight. meher investigates, finding an ancient book. Reading it, shadows come alive, whispering her name. She feels icy hands on her neck, breath chilling. The ground splits, revealing writhing spirits. She’s pulled into the abyss, screams echoing. The book reappears, awaiting its next reader

27. In an eerie village, a hidden demon reveals its eye, then face, with a ghastly grin. Panic spreads as half its body emerges, leading to mysterious deaths. Bloodthirsty, the demon infiltrates homes through tiny openings. Only those sealing every crevice survive its nocturnal terror. The village’s nightmare intensifies.

28. The scalpel gleamed in the dim light. Jake awoke strapped to the table, every limb numb. A figure in blood-soaked scrubs whispered, “Time to begin.” Pain exploded as skin peeled away, revealing bone. Jake’s screams. we’re muffled by his own severed tongue. The figure laughed, “Welcome to my collection.”

29. The walls oozed with black ichor. Sarah’s flashlight flickered, revealing a figure stitched from countless corpses. It moved, eyes glistening with malice. Hands reached out, cold and relentless. As they tore her apart, her screams echoed through the cavern, joining the chorus of souls trapped within the monstrous abomination.

30. That day, the nurse forgot to give him his medicine. His body was paralyzed. A few hours later, monochrome children with no eyes began appearing in his room, singing songs about eating flesh. He wanted to scream, but his mouth would only drool. Then, the worms began to crawl out.

31. The doll’s eyes followed her every move. At midnight, its voice whispered, “I’m coming for you.” She bolted upright, heart pounding. Footsteps echoed in the hallway. The door creaked open. The doll stood there, grinning. “It’s your turn now,” it hissed. Darkness swallowed her scream.

32. Edgar looked up.
    Jackie, with her newborn, did not.
    Elmer, James, and the memory of Larry are on the patio
    The trio looked up.
    Spencer,
    Realized he had the ability to be happy.
    The hopeful boy,
    looked up.
    They said it was a meteor shower,

    That’s when the bombs dropped.

33. The winch hauled the body back onto the bridge. Proud emergency divers were unaware of the feelings of the dark, brooding spirit of the span, how its dissatisfaction distributed malevolent fortunes to all who defied what they should have deified. The young driver might live, but the spirit would prevail.

34. Liza shivered from fear, coldness, spiders. Her breath is visible. She ponders. “Where are these maggots coming from? Oh yeah, my eye. Dead eye. Big whoop. Perspective is everything. My eye!”, she giggled. Click. “He’s back. Time to get freaky”. She closes her hand tightly around her shiv. “Come on”.

35. Whisper knew it was real and not some demented delusion. She gawked at it in horror as it gnawed off its connection to the dead mother’s belly. Immersed in Wharton s Jelly, it slithered towards her, slowly but purposeful. The boy sat in the corner, grinning savagely. “Umby’s hungry.”

36. Three nights after watching a horror movie about demon possession. It now looks like my town people might be possessed. Just like those same demons in that movie. Has art came to imitate life ? As a very religious person, I’m never leaving home without my crucifix in my left hand .

37. I sit down on my couch after my shift at the hospital and hop onto Instagram, out of pure boredom. One thing in particular catches my eye. It’s a picture of me with a headline of: 20-year-old found dead in her apartment on Tuesday night.

38. They were from another planet, but they were pleasant enough. I thought it unneighborly to refuse their invitation, although I wish I had. The skewering was bad enough; now the heat is intolerable. When they said, “We’d like to have you for a barbecue,” I should have taken them literally.

39. The detective gazed upon the killer’s visage.

    Reflected on the viscera around the room, spent casings on the floor, the bloodied cleaver in the kitchen.

    The forced entry wasn’t supposed to be so apparent, unsubtle, gauche.

    He sighed in the mirror, knowing he was in for a long day’s work.

40. We went for a long drive and enjoyed a nice dinner. I thought it was the perfect moment, so I got down on one knee and opened the ring box. However, she ran away in fear. I later discovered the ring still had my ex’s finger on it.

41. Some of my things had been moved or gone missing recently, and I’d heard all sorts of bumps in the night. I comforted myself with the phrase “ghosts aren’t real.” Now, as I watch a strange man climb down from my attic, I’m starting to wish they were.

42. The museum returned Grandpa’s collection as per his will. We shopped through the crate for our old sets. Hundred years quenched our curiosity to live ashore midst the humans. But, like we agreed, the salty depths are where we selkies belong. Donning sealskins, we bobbed through waves, dragging Grandpa under.

43. It was the perfect date. Despite you growing colder as the evening went on. I took you to a wonderful steak house. Then we got frisky like teens in the backseat at the drive through. Then I dropped you off at your parents house. I can still hear their screams.

44. The pain woke me up, my hand caught in a double roll crusher.
    “Stein, tell me where you hid it.”
    “My… name… is… Stine.”
    “What?” The stocky man emptied my pockets and found my driver license. “Oh!”
    “Let… me… go!”
    “Can’t,” as he pressed the ON button, “no witness.”

45. I slid the spoon around my eye as fast and as delicately as I could.
    My eyeball literally made a pop.
    I pulled. The optical nerve stretched.
    I plunged two finger in the socket and grab the little demon by the leg.
    Little bastard scratched all the way out.

46. Veronica slept restlessly. She never liked storms. Instinctively she reached down to where Max slept. Her fingers brushed his wet little head. His long tongue tickled her palm. His warm breath was comforting to her. But then she remembered Max was back home in Indiana.

47. I remember the stories from when I was young passed down from the Grandparents and Parents the older kids used to sing it to us at school
    Jeck”Jeck” from down the beck” go to to sleep or he will find your neck”
    but it can’t be true can it.

    1. I’m on my first date in a while with this girl who won’t stop talking about her psychotic ex, but all I can think about is how great my plastic surgeon is.

48. Transcribing the novel, my fingers ran along the stitches and paper like the skin of a corpse.
    Endlessly typing, the inky letters fading.
    I must continue typing,
    So I cut through my wrists, dripping it on the typebars.
    The keyboard and letters now sticky and crimson, the novel never completed.

    1. Creepy.

49. The beast eat little, but fresh. Kevin’s body rots on the floor after his throat was bitten off.
    One last finger. I kept thumb and index on the other hand to hold the knife.
    The knife can’t hurt it. I tried.
    I hear it coming.
    Wait…
    Wait…
    Fresh…
    Now!

50. The spaceship was devoid of life. Urien was the last survivor on the Intrepid. Leaning against the wall, heart thundering against his ribs after ejecting the last crew member infected with the alien pathogen. His eyes closed as his shoulders relaxed when a knock sounded at the air lock hatch.

51. The footsteps made their way up the creaky wooden stairs. Shaking, I bite my bottom lip to get rid of the fear. The pain is so sharp a solitary tear oozes from my eye and rolls down my cheek. The footsteps are getting closer. I never trusted the living.

52. I noticed the shadows and began to study them. I wanted to know more about them. What were they? Where are they from? But then the shadows began to notice me too. They’re after me now. Lurking just beyond the lights, waiting for me to pass through a dark corner.

53. Klaxons blared in Major Cliff Vussler’s ears. Emergency protocols had immediately sealed the hatch, but Vussler still donned his pressure suit.

    Lifting his helmet, Vussler paused. He could hear scratching.

    Scratching from the other side of the hatch. Where Captain Wex Wilson had been sealed in after the hull breach.

54. Mark woke up at 3:00 a.m. to see a figure standing in his room. Frozen, he blinked—it was gone. He sighed in relief. Then a cold breath whispered, “You shouldn’t have looked.”

55. Every night, Claire saw a man standing at the foot of her bed. He didn’t move, just stared. One night, she screamed for help. The man whispered, “They can’t hear you. You’re mine now.”

56. Jane’s daughter complained about a man in her closet. Jane reassured her it was just her imagination. That night, Jane heard heavy breathing from her own closet. A raspy voice whispered, “Your daughter’s next.”

57. After years of illness and pain, the end had finally come. John was no saint, but surely the suffering he had caused was offset by the misery he endured. He exhaled his last breath, reaching to embrace the sweet release that never came.

    Death was darkness, terror, and agony eternal.

58. Hush little baby don’t say a word~
    Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird~
    Hush little baby stay out of…….sight
    Hush……don’t
    hUsHhUsHhUsH
    PlEaSePlEaSePlEaSe
    *Floor creaks*
    Little one close your pretty eyes
    (THUD)
    ………goodbye
    *silence*

59. Dazed and confused, you wake, however your eyes don’t open. They’re sticky. The smell of rot fills your space. You wriggle, however there is little room to move. You have a horrible realisation that your eyes aren’t tied together but open to the darkness. You can’t scream, you’re paralysed.

60. Mother is awfully quiet today. It’s unlike her. I engage in small talk. Nothing. Is she sick? I walk over to feel her head, she’s paler than usual. I wave my hand in front of her face. Nothing. The front door opens, I turn and see my mother staring back.

61. He was stranded, alone at night, walking along the road. Bright lights blinded him. A van pulled over, offering a lift. There was a murderer about, you’ve got to be wary. They travel without speaking a word, until two bangs are heard from outside. They are both convicted criminals!

62. Her heels skittered on the broken sidewalk.
    Heavy footfall followed. He wouldn’t stop.
    She dashed into an alley. Maybe he hadn’t seen.
    He had.
    “Bad choice, babe.” Baring hungry teeth. “Dead end. No way out.”
    She turned slowly, wearing deep shadow like a cloak.
    “I know.”
    The screams were delicious.

63. Hours went by and her daughter would not stop staring at the hollow part of the wall where a knock could dive through, into a new world.

    The mother jerked her daughter back, looking into her eyes.

    The eyes were black, and now something angry knocked from the other side.

64. “I don’t feel well, doctor. I’m sick. There’re men after me, bad men.”
    “Ah,” the doctor said, gleaming at the infection. Not much time now. For the both of them.
    “I have a solution,” the doctor said, whetting his fangs.
    “Oh?”
    As zombies shuffled outside, the patient screamed and screamed.

65. She clutched her boyfriend’s hand in the ambulance. “Don’t leave me. I need to see your gorgeous face every morning.”
    Hours later, against all odds, she brought him home. As she caressed his cheek, his eyeball came off in her hand and rolled onto the bed, staring blankly at her.

66. “It’s time you met my twin sister,” she said, their relationship now serious. His girlfriend’s eyes rolled back as a bloodied version of her emerged from within, devouring him alive before retreating back inside her body.
    She sighed. “They always leave when I mention my dead sister.”

67. Her deceased father appeared. “Come to the light, it’s your time,” he said.
    She followed him through a luminous tunnel. Once they emerged, the monster shed its disguise and began gutting her.
    “Where’s my real father?” she gasped. The creature grinned, revealing her father’s face beneath.
    “Right here, sweetie.”

68. Storm. Blackout. He glanced at his girlfriend, but saw only pixels and the words “Reading, ignoring him” floating where she had been. The lights flickered back on; she reappeared.
    “What was that?” he asked, shaken.
    “What do you mean? Nothing happened,” she replied, eyes never leaving her book.

69. After much debate, the horror story winner was chosen. They called. “Erica, your tale about the Reaper killing horror fans won.”
    “I’m her mother. Erica died six years ago.”
    The editor didn’t see the quill coming, piercing his heart from behind. Death grinned, crossing another name off its list.

70. Relentless voices in his head, not his own thoughts. “Who’s talking?” he asked.
    “Open the fridge,” they commanded. He obeyed. “Take out the chicken.” He did. “Remove the knife and plunge it into your chest.” His hand trembled, gripping the blade. He raised the knife.

71. “I’ll give you a massage, just relax, honey,” she cooed, smoothing cream onto his back. He closed his eyes, sighing contentedly. Moments later, he screamed as his skin began peeling off in chunks.
    She meticulously collected each piece, humming softly. “Shh,” she whispered, “beauty is pain, darling.”

72. “Interview’s over. You’re hired!”
    “Fantastic! I’ve always wanted to join this cutting-edge tech company. Where’s my office?”
    “Right there.” A machine suddenly cracked open his skull, wiring him alive into the server. “Where did you think artificial intelligence comes from?” his new boss smirked, as screams filled the room.

73. “News: Age limit lowered to 60. Further reductions expected due to global overpopulation. Vegan meat rolling out soon.”
    John, 59, fled the country, reaching his destination on his 60th birthday. Grinning, he approached the checkpoint. The guard smiled back, revealing sharpened teeth. “Welcome to the protein processing center, sir.”

74. He died. Death greeted him with a skeletal grin.
    A neon sign flashed: “Level 1 Completed.”
    “Ready for Level 2?” Death cackled, gesturing towards a hellish landscape.
    He screamed, realizing his life was just the tutorial. Countless torments awaited, each “level” worse than the last.
    Somewhere, a gamer selected “Start.”

75. Sophie was lost, wandering the nighttime cemetery. Moonlight slipped round leafless trees, casting headstone shadows like crooked arms reaching from their graves. Sophie spied a fresh burial plot. Now she remembered her interment that day. She was dead. Trapped to wander here forever. Her ghostly scream chilled the air.

76. The babysitter was particularly sleepy tonight. She failed to check on the kids and make sure they were actually sleeping. So when she drifted out of sleep her first thought was that the small child with a knife looming over her was just a dream. Until she realized it wasn’t.

77. RECALL
    Her parents died. She survived. Her body lies inert, fed by tube, washed by nurses, moved by hoist. Yet, on the one night the veil parts, when her parents stand close, using her name and stroking her hair with soft, weightless fingers, her brain relives the monstrous bombing.

78. EXPERIMENT
    The volunteer undergoing the first software transfer into a human brain screamed in pain. His knowledge of the progress of the transfer, neurone by neurone, lobe by lobe, increased his torment. But the first step had been to disable the connections between brain and motor nerves.

79. SHORTCUT
    The moon gives Jerry enough light to cut through the graveyard. The humid air makes his costume stick to his skin, making it look real. He is hit on his head, and he falls in a grave. A voice says, “remember that the next time you try to escape.”

80. She couldn’t look away from the mouse on Andy’s head.
    He looked back, right before it burrowed into his brain. He didn’t scream or show any pain, but his features became mouse-like. He sprouted whiskers and furry ears. Then he turned and spoke in a squeaky voice.
    “I’m Andy now.”

81. He was supposed to lead her upstairs, then kill her. But the moment she stepped inside, she started complaining about the state of the house and how she couldn’t smell cooking. Of course she couldn’t. She was the main course and had only just arrived.

82. “Tiff? Look.”
    I glance at my husband across the kitchen and ask, “What?”
    “Rags seems…wrong,” Greg answers. Have I ever heard him sound so unsettled?
    My dog turns, peering at me over his shoulder, canine lips curving in a sickening smile.
    Rags speaks: “You died in your sleep last night.”

83. BREAKFAST IN BED

    I woke up to breakfast in bed and a vase full of roses.

    The note next to it read “you look so sweet when you sleep, my love xx”.

    Which was all well and good – except I live alone.

84. Christmas Eve. Red and green splatter on the pavement, paint the outside of the edges tearing at the seams. Muscle fibers ripping, calves aching, mouth dry, the hook snags at the throat of you like a candy cane. Nowhere but a circle. Insistently, insisting, he says, “You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

85. Stop
    “Stop.” The flowers are wilting. The windows shake but no one else is out there. Her shirt sticks to her stomach, her hair keeps afloat; static electricity — but why are the lights constantly dimming, off and on? “Stop.” It laughs. Her stomach curves inward. Thump. “Stop.” Thump. “Stop. Stop. Stop.”

86. “Ambrosia”
    The spiders just kept pouring from his mouth. I thought the roaches had been raisins. $50,000 and the chance to conquer fear, who wouldn’t take the dare? It took a week to work its way back up. The clerk said the salt wasn’t poison. I discovered it was Tibetan ambrosia.

87. NOT DEAD YET

    The sounds of muffled sliding metal tracks break the silence.

    The cold infiltrates her dark world. Time passes in the icy black tomb that smells vaguely of pungent chemicals mixed with a sickly-sweet aroma.

    Locked in an unresponsive body but conscious, realization creeps in at the undertaker scalpel’s first cut.

88. SENSORY DEPRIVATION TANK

    The only sound in the womblike tank is the faint ripple of warm water. Darkness meant for relaxation swallows everything.

    Intense whispers cut through the deprivation state—unrecognizable, urgent.

    Instantly, clawed hands grip your ankles, yanking you down into the abyss. Relaxation shatters into terror as you fight to resurface.

89. My mother hates me. She denies me food so my sister can eat. She denies me love so she can feel some joy. But I await the day she will drink from the bottle I’ve lived in since the time they discarded me for being a bloody, ugly, soundless lump.

90. Seven hours until the next train stop and her vacation. The sniffles of the lone man across the aisle had now progressed to wails. “Sir?” “Ma’am, my kid died.” “Oh! I am sorry.” “Because you wouldn’t take the train to come out to treat my family. All of us died.”

91. Barreling through desolate roads on Halloween, I spotted a truck with a scarlet “pumpkin-lantern”. Chills crept up spine as I realized it was actually a soul-swapping fox spirit. What a lethal trick! The truck veered over the cliff and burst into a grotesque, real-life jack-o’-lantern, from sulfurous depths of Tartarus.

92. I thought the biggest problem with crashing someplace hot would be water, but it’s actually that meat rots too fast. The key is to take a limb at a time and cauterize the wound, which worked until we ran out of people. I think I’ll start with my left leg.

93. “Hot dogs for sale!” I walk up to the cart. “Only a dollar?! Wow!” I smile. Once it’s ready, my hunger is happily satisfied with a juicy bite. Little did I know, that meat didnt come from an animal,

94. My grandma`s collection of her hand sewn dolls all sat neatly on her shelf, until she died. That’s when they started disappearing, one by one, and each night I hear things I try to ignore. I wish it was my imagination.

95. I’m on a fun camping trip with my friends, everything’s going great. Until morning hits and I wake up to a foul smell. All my friends are dead, rotting next to me in our tent. But we’ve only been here a day, and why am I the only one alive?

96. I’m on a fun camping trip with my friends, everything’s going great. Until morning hits and I wake up to a foul smell. All my friends are dead, rotting next to me in our tent. But we’ve only been here a day, and why am I the only one alive?

97. Dexter’s dating app addiction led him to a profile labeled “Date of Your Nightmares.” Curious, he met her in a dimly lit café. As he leaned in, she whispered, “I only date at midnight.” The clock struck twelve, and he realized: he was her midnight snack.

98. “I must tell you a secret – I eat people,” said Clare, behind her latest boyfriend as he sliced vegetables on a chopping board. She coshed him. A man entered and helped lock him in a freezer. The boyfriend awoke, muffled screams to be released. “Another month’s meat supply,” she smiled.

99. We sat down to breakfast like any other day. While we were happily chatting, there was a knock at the door. I offered to answer, and when I opened the door, I was met with a badge. The police took my parents away for kidnapping other children and eating them.

100. When I open my eyes, I am not truly awake. The nightmare from before plays over in my head throughout the day. Flashbacks of red, knives, screams. I go about my day, trying to forget—to overcome. But when night falls again, I can’t stop myself. I seek another victim.

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