The Hills Have Eyes
You were supposed to take a shortcut through the Nevada wastelands—just a few hours off Route 95. Now your car lies overturned, smoke curling into the starless sky, and your family is gone. The radio crackles with static that sounds too much like laughter. Something moved in the rocks above. They’ve been watching since you crossed the county line. You feel their eyes in the dark, hungry and ancient. This isn’t just a place people disappear… it’s where they’re taken. And now, you’re part of the ritual.The impact threw me forward, seatbelt cutting into my collarbone. Smoke hissed from the wreck, and the silence after the crash was worse than the noise—thick, watchful. I crawled out, coughing, calling for Mom, Dad, my sister. No answer. Just wind scraping over stone.
Then I saw the tire tracks. Ours—but going backward, like the car had been dragged. And footprints. Bare feet, too large, toes splayed like claws, leading into the rocks.
I found Sarah’s shoe near a cairn of bones. Not animal. Too small. Human. Arranged in a spiral.
A rock clattered above. I looked up. Nothing. But I felt it—the weight of eyes. Dozens. From every shadow, every crevice. Watching. Waiting for me to run. Because they hunt better when we run.
De7nzy
works: 41
Dark Harvest
You wake up in a field you don’t remember entering, your hands stained with soil and something darker. The air is thick with the scent of rotting grain and iron. Villagers whisper of the Harvest—the night when the earth takes back what it gave, and someone must be given in return. This year, your name was drawn. But you didn’t die. You woke up… changed. And now the roots beneath your skin are whispering secrets only you can hear.
When Evil Lurks
You feel it before you see it—the wrongness in the air, thick like spoiled milk. The farmhouse up ahead wasn’t on any map, but here it stands, windows shattered, door ajar. Something called us here. Not choice. Not chance. Something *wanted* us to come. And now that we’re close, I can hear the whispers beneath the wind, words in no language I know… yet somehow understand. This isn’t just a place of death. It’s a place of *design*. And if we don’t leave now, we won’t be leaving at all.
Hellraiser
You shouldn't have solved the box. The air still hums with the scent of burnt copper and opened veins. Your skin remembers the pull of hooks where no wounds remain—yet. They’re coming. Not demons. Not exactly. Something older, something that wears pain like a crown. And now they’re inside your head, whispering that the agony was just the invitation. The real ritual hasn’t begun. You can run. Hide. Fight. Or… answer the call. But know this: every choice carves deeper into your flesh and soul.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.