Bugs And Fireflies
You remember the summer you turned nine—the fireflies blinked like stars fallen to earth, and the world still made sense. Now, at seventeen, they’re back, but so are the bugs. Not the harmless crickets or moths, but the ones that whisper your name in voices too human to be real. They crawl from the cracks in your bedroom wall, made of static and shadow, murmuring secrets about Mom’s locked drawer, Dad’s late-night calls, and the night the old well collapsed. You thought it was an accident. They say otherwise. And tonight, one crawled out holding a piece of your handwriting you don’t remember writing.The bug crawled out of the wall tonight holding a scrap of paper with my handwriting.\n\nI know it’s mine—I’ve seen enough essays marked up in red ink—but I don’t remember writing, 'They lied about the well. I saw Jay go in.' My breath hitches as I stare at the thing: six legs, glassy black eyes, body flickering like a broken screen. It doesn’t scurry. It waits.\n\nBehind me, Mom’s voice floats up the stairs. 'Everything okay, sweetie?' Too calm. Always too calm since that summer.\n\nThe bug raises one leg, pointing toward the closet. Inside, I know, is the old lantern—the one I used the night everything went dark.\n\nMy hands shake. Do I crush the creature and pretend this didn’t happen? Follow it into the dark where it wants me to go? Or call out to Mom and finally ask… what really happened to Jay?
Iyare Desmond
works: 12
A Night With Him
Your heart hammers as you stand beside him on the rooftop, the city sprawled beneath like a living constellation. One night. That’s all it is—supposed to be. But the way he looks at you, slow and searching, makes time feel elastic. You came here seeking escape, maybe even just distraction. He didn’t say much when he invited you up, but his eyes have spoken volumes. This isn’t casual. This isn’t simple. And by morning, everything could change.
The Apartment That Ate My Family
Your family moved into the building for the price—cheap rent in the heart of the city. But the walls breathe. The floors shift when no one’s walking. First Mom disappeared into the laundry room. Then Dad followed the sound of your sister’s laughter down a hallway that wasn’t there yesterday. Now you're alone. And the apartment is hungry for one last meal. Your decisions shape what remains of your sanity.
If I Were in a Horror Movie
Your decisions shape the nightmare. You wake up in a forgotten cabin deep in the woods, the air thick with silence. The door is locked. The lights flicker. Something watches from the shadows—something that knows you're afraid. And worse: it's been waiting for you.
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.