Tag Archives: skin

Welcome!

Welcome to my lair. I write mostly horror short stories, but you will also find non-horror on here. If you just want to be scared head right here. If you prefer to listen to stories you can do so here. I hope you enjoy the ride – and feedback and comments are always welcome!

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//Anton

Ten years from now

A tune that I remember. A flock of pigeons that we fed. The sheets that we last used together. They call you in my head. Shampoo – the soft hair on your skin. A pillow – your head, hard and warm against my shoulder. My bed – the angry eyes; the open mouth with which you screamed at me. I’m sorry. I hope you’re well. I hope you’re happy. I hope that, a year from now, or five, or ten, you can forget me. I hope that, ten years from now, you won’t hate me anymore.

Washed Up

It happened exactly four years ago and I still have panic attacks every time that I get too close to a beach.

There were three of us: Luke, Kiel and me. Actually it should have just been Luke and me, but his girlfriend and her best friend ditched us on the last minute and so we invited Luke’s brother, Kiel, instead. Kiel was massive in all dimensions, but as shy and good-hearted as a little girl.

The sky had only just cleared up, so the sand was still moist and the beach empty except for a few swimmers at the far end. Our stuff fell in the sand, we grabbed a tennis ball and a few moments later we were challenging each other to swim deeper and deeper out into the waves to retrieve the ball. Continue reading

The last one in the shower

Trigger warning: This short story contains episodes of graphic sexual violence.



Gray tiles, some already chipped, all with greenish stains. Large sinks, rarely cleaned. Showerheads, large and too high to be reached.

Push the button. Wait for the water to get warm. Jump inside and quickly wash. Make sure that no one else sees too much. At that age it’s scary to be seen. What if the others have more hair or bigger things down there? Just don’t be seen.

Scary age. You grow into it and you when you think back you can’t see when you got into it. Maybe it was that first PE lesson after the summer; the one with the new teacher that said that we are soon men and will start to smell and all have to shower.

I was always one of the first. We all rushed in there, quick in, quick out. Not be seen. Continue reading

They Laughed

The red cloth fell softly down her sides. I stepped closer. Grins drilled deep into my neck. I tapped on her shoulder. The white of her cheeks grew red. I asked for a dance. She glanced around. Laughter behind me. She bit her lip. Her eyes met mine. “Okay,” she said. Her skin felt warm and soft. My hand pulled hers towards the circle at the center of the room. She smiled. My hand gently on her waist. Hers on my shoulder. Blond hair swaying from side to side with every step. The laughter stopped.

An Acquired Taste

I’ve not always been this way. I was born normal and I never even met anyone of this kind. I suppose there might be a genetic component – a few times my dad told me about the day when he found his grandmother sprawled on the living room floor.

My great-grandfather was never caught, but when dad found my great-grandmother, he heard movement in the house. Dad was just ten or eleven years old so when he ran out of the house he screamed that an animal had attacked his grandmother. But when he grew older he began to suspect that what he heard wasn’t an animal at all.

For me it started with Sophie. We were together for three months. I liked her cute jokes and sweet smell and, to be honest, also her great body. Continue reading