Hard
Day 1: The woman claiming to be my mother slammed a plate of wet, grey meat on the table. I refused to eat. Her jaw unhinged with a sickening crack, and she screamed until I swallowed a bite.
Day 2: I tried to sneak out while 'Dad' was in the garage. The little girl who calls me 'brother' found me. She didn't scream. She just giggled, pointing a long, pale finger back at my room. 'Not ripe yet,' she whispered.
Day 3: I can hear them sharpening knives in the kitchen. They are arguing over which parts to roast. I am shaking so hard my teeth act like a metronome in the silence.
Day 4: The table is finally set. The main course is steaming in the center, perfectly charred. Watching the family tear into the meat and lap up the dark red sauce, I stop shaking. For the first time in days, I feel completely weightless and at peace.
By: kubo
Medium
I smiled groggily when I heard the delivery driver say, "Here's your food," and a voice from the hallway replied, "Thanks, looks great."
But as the deadbolt slid home, I stopped breathing and pulled the duvet over my head, tears streaming down my face in silence.
#Psychological#Crime#Thriller
By: kubo
Hard
It was a grotesque private show in the basement of an exclusive club. There were no actors on the stage—only a feral, disheveled woman bound by heavy leather straps, and three mute children kneeling beside her in burlap sacks.
The wealthy patrons sipped their brandy, placing bets on exactly when the madwoman would snap and tear the small, living things beside her to pieces.
As the night wore on and the children remained perfectly still, the bored audience grew restless. They began hurling heavy crystal glasses and shattered bottles at the stage to speed up the bloodshed.
The woman let out a guttural, beastly roar. Her eyes locked onto the flying glass, and with a violent surge, she snapped the thick leather straps binding her wrists.
Before a single patron could scream or flee, she made a sudden movement that cost every man in the room his bet. She died amidst the bloody wreckage, frozen in that final posture.
#Tragedy#Psychological#Crime
By: kubo
Medium
I found the perfect hiding spot during our Halloween game in the abandoned manor. It's been hours, the air is getting stale, and I've just realized that the 'prop' I climbed into has a working lock on the outside.
#Tragedy#Crime#Claustrophobia
By: kubo
Easy
I shriek with ecstasy as I wallow in the brown mire, letting the sludge coat my skin. My parents loom over me, watching. They are massive, and they are definitely not human, but I know they love me.
#Dark Humor
By: kubo
Hard
After the funeral, a crate arrived from my mentor's estate with a note: 'Only you have the touch to wield this true vitality.' Inside lay a canvas labeled 'Prima Neve' that felt uncomfortably warm, almost feverish, under my fingertips. I uncapped the tube of Venetian Red, hit by a wave of metallic scent—like wet copper coins—rather than oil. Hesitant, I dipped the unusually humid bristles of the brush and applied a single, heavy stroke. The canvas didn't just take the paint; it shuddered. The red didn't dry on the surface; it was aggressively sucked down into the grain, spreading like a blooming bruise.
#Crime#Psychological#Tragedy
By: kubo
Easy
I was chatting with my best friend when my phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor. She screamed in sheer terror. Moments later, I was dead. Why?
#Crime#Psychological#Tragedy
By: kubo
Medium
Two dead men sit in a cramped, dark space. Between them rests a scattered deck of cards, a single revolver, and one empty bullet casing. What happened?
#Psychological#Tragedy#Dark Humor
By: kubo
Easy
The old man wiped his mouth, left a single piece of paper on the table, and walked out of the luxury steakhouse. The manager eagerly snatched the paper and locked it in his safe. The man’s bank account was never charged for the feast, yet the restaurant considered it the most profitable meal they had served all year. No crime was committed, and no charity was given.
#Mystery#Psychological#Dark Humor
By: kubo