Anonymus

Step into the shadows where mysteries unravel and nightmares come alive. A curator of eerie tales and spine-chilling twists, I explore the unknown, the unexplainable, and the unrelenting grip of fear. Here, every story is a door to darkness. Dare to open it?

[brooklynink]

--THE PRICE OF A SMILE--

The neon sign buzzed faintly above the entrance, casting a sickly yellow glow on the cracked pavement below: Laugh and Giggles - Where the Show Never Ends. Marco White adjusted his oversized polka-dot bowtie and smeared a fresh layer of white paint over his face. The glittering red nose sat crooked on his pale visage, and his lips—painted into a permanent grin—felt cracked and dry.

"First night, huh?" came a raspy voice from behind. Marco turned to see Rusty, a seasoned veteran of the club. Rusty stood tall, his lean, athletic frame still holding traces of youthful muscle despite his years. His thick, dark hair, streaked with silver, was tousled in a way that somehow added to his rugged charm. His piercing green eyes, full of both wisdom and mischief, fixed on Marco with an intensity that immediately made him feel both nervous and intrigued.

Rusty’s smile was rare but captivating, a glimpse of something much softer beneath his gruff exterior. "Rule number one, kid—if someone asks for the Midnight Routine, you say no."

Marco frowned, his blue-painted eyebrows arching in confusion. "Midnight Routine?"

Rusty gave him a long, steady look, his chiseled jawline setting as he spoke in a low, almost fatherly tone. "You’ll learn. Just don’t ask for it. If you do, it’s already too late." His voice had a gravely edge, but there was a protective undertone there, as though he were trying to shield Marco from some inescapable horror. He shook his head slightly, his eyes darkening for a moment. "Trust me, kid, don’t go near it."..

To be continued..

[brooklynink]

CLAIMED by the cowboy's hat (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/388782749-claimed-by-the-cowboy%27s-hat?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=doitlikezuri Here's a captivating description for your story: In a small town where secrets linger and passion runs deep, one unforgettable night changes everything. She's just there for her best friend's bachelorette party, but a chance encounter with a mysterious cowboy sets her world spinning. What begins as a playful dare quickly becomes something more-a tangled web of desire, power, and unspoken connections that neither of them saw coming. With one touch, everything she thought she knew about herself is thrown into question, and a cowboy's simple gesture could either free her or trap her forever. Fate has a way of leading us where we least expect, and in a world where hearts collide and choices matter, she'll have to decide if she's willing to follow where it takes her.

[nondelphic]

you’re not procrastinating. you’re 'letting the characters marinate.'

[brooklynink]

Exactly

[brooklynink]

America's Ghost Riders

---

It was the kind of night that made the road feel endless. The moon was barely a sliver in the sky, and the headlights of Jake's old truck cut through the thickening fog. He'd driven this stretch of Route 66 a hundred times before, but something felt off tonight.

The hum of the engine was the only sound, until—out of nowhere—a low rumble echoed from behind. At first, Jake thought it was another vehicle, but it didn’t make sense. No other cars were supposed to be out here this late. He glanced in the rearview mirror, squinting. The road was empty.

Then the rumbling came again, louder this time. Like an engine revving, far too close for comfort.

Jake’s grip tightened on the wheel. “What the hell…?” he muttered to himself.

Without warning, a shadow darted across the road in front of him. Jake slammed on the brakes, his heart skipping a beat. A motorcycle roared into view—a dark figure riding it, head low, headlights piercing the fog.

Jake leaned forward, trying to get a better look, but the rider was already past him, too fast to follow.

Then, another one appeared. And another.

They were coming from both sides of the road now, like phantoms, their engines growling in unison.

Jake’s hands were shaking as he pulled off to the side of the road, heart hammering. The motorcycles didn’t slow down—they didn’t even look at him. They were riding in perfect formation, like they knew exactly where they were going.

The last rider, a tall man in a black leather jacket, slowed for a second as he passed Jake’s truck. He looked straight at him. His eyes were empty, like dark hollows, and for a moment, Jake thought he saw something flicker behind them—something old and angry.

The rider spoke, his voice barely audible over the engine noise. “You’re lucky, boy. Turn around, while you still can.”

Before Jake could respond, the rider gunned his engine and disappeared into the fog.

Frozen, Jake sat in the truck for a moment, the sound of engines fading into the distance. What the hell had just happened?

His hands were still trembling when he finally managed to start the truck again. But as he drove, his mind kept racing. What did the rider mean? Why had they appeared like that?

And then, just as Jake reached the next bend in the road, his headlights caught something ahead. A dark figure—one of the riders—was standing in the middle of the road, motionless, waiting for him to approach.

Jake slammed his foot on the brake. The truck screeched to a halt just feet away. He stared at the rider.

The figure didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just stood there, staring into his eyes.

“You should’ve turned back,” the rider said, his voice cold and final.

Without another word, the rider turned and walked into the fog. As Jake sat there, the eerie quiet of the night pressing down on him, he knew—he wasn’t supposed to be here.

He didn’t need a second warning.

---

---

[brooklynink]

[brooklynink]

The Wildcard 🃏

The cards seem to call to him, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Marcus looked back up at the man, who eyes seemed to glow a bright yellow. surely it was just his imagination or the trick of the light making them seem that way. His attention was drawn back to the cards, as he suddenly realized, as they didn't feel like cards at all. More like dried up skin that had been left in the sun to long, but cut perfectly to a Q.

The man's sinister smile slowly pulled at the sides of his mouth watching Marcus' face intently " quite wynorrific aren't they?".

[brooklynink]

Wildcard

[brooklynink]

THE WILDCARD 🃏