Wendingo

By: Lila DeJessa

A crack echoed across the dark forest. Mark frantically looked around, eyes wide in terror. “Kelsey?” he choked into the darkness.
The cicadas stopped. His rapid breathing was the only sound in the woods, the deafening silence burning his ears.

The distant voice of a woman called his name in response. Kelsey.
He slammed into the dark woods, branches snapping. Something squished under his boot. He looked down and in the pale moonlight, and recognized curls of blonde hair below him. He felt bile rise in his throat as a familiar female voice called his name once more.
“Mark?”

Masked Men

By: Isaac Oliver

The children were warned not to go into the woods, but they were curious. When the sun set, they made their way through the trees to the cave at the center of the forest. The cave towered over them, but they did not waiver. They headed down the steep entrance. After a few minutes, a few masked figures followed them down. Once the sun rose again, the figures made their way out of the cave, through the trees, and back into their houses. They walked into their children’s room and put on a grieving persona before calling the police.

The Tomb

By: Devin Reid Vazquez

"We should've never come here..." I say with malice.

My friend says nothing; he just keeps staring at the ground. "You can't say anything!? No, why would you take responsibility!"

"I don't want to DIE! Especially not with YOU!"

Why am I yelling at him..?

I'm just desperate for reason.

Why die here?

...Something is coming for me...

Is this my tomb?!

I grabbed hold of his body, then I felt it. My hands are stained dark, but I know what it is, I've always known.

Blood.

I reach for his cold hand, close my eyes, and hold my breath.

Tap

By: Aidah Weis

In the dead of night, Laura heard a faint tapping at her window. She froze, remembering her apartment was on the tenth floor. The sound grew louder, more insistent. With trembling hands, she pulled back the curtain.

A pale face stared back, eyes wide and hollow, mouth stretched in a silent scream. It pressed its hands to the glass, leaving wet, bloody streaks.

Laura stumbled backward, heart racing. She blinked, and the figure was gone, replaced by her reflection.

But the handprints remained, dripping, as the tapping began again—this time, from inside the room.