chilling Friends story thriller



I checked my watch for the zillionth time that evening and eyed the bustling road in exasperation, in hopes to spot a bus that could fetch us home. The arrival of a lot more people to the bus stop, blaring horns and irksome noises of the vehicles, the irrational teen boys pulling off prosaic bike stunts to lure attention, the elderly sweeper lady signaling us every couple of minutes to switch locations, the malodorous garbage aroma and the knocked-up dog tailing us definitely didn’t help my frustration. The sole thing that kept me sane that day was listening to Sandhya and Karen exchanging corny yet, captivating technicalities about their day. Smiling, we watched the arrival and departure of a number of buses loading and unloading passengers, but the bus that would take us home. 

“Perhaps we should start walking,” Karen blurted out. It had been an hour since the school closed. Despite the bustling traffic, the climate was pleasant and tranquil, and a walk didn’t seem like an abysmal choice. The clock ticking six, the squeaky skies swiftly darkening and my thin patience running thinner were the few available cues to commence walking. We couldn’t scoot all the way home. The plan devised was to make it to a junction where the probability of finding the required bus was relatively fair.

As we commenced our 15-minute walk, the exquisite climate brushed us with a cool breeze which subsequently sent soothing shivers sliding down our spines. Our languid walk spiced up as we verbally exchanged odd amusing events from our lives, commented on every living being we encountered, and countlessly ranted about our hopefulness for the betterment of the situation, as we strolled across the pavement.

It was around 6.30 PM when our ecstatic chitchats and enthusiastic strides were intruded by a glistening black SUV that pulled up right in front of us, detaining us from stepping any further. After expressing a brief idea about the idiocy of the driver, we opted to walk past the parked car. Moments after we eluded the block of the SUV, the car caught up with us real quick and blocked our path once again. This time the move appeared deliberate. Bemused and immobile, we stood as the front window of the car sluggishly rolled down revealing a male tricenarian. Before we could even question his eerie action, the man offered to give us a ride home.

I’m unsure if it was the flawless rectitude instilled in us to avoid burdening someone or the spooky stranger abduction tales that were narrated to us in childhood that made us humbly deny his offer. However, the driver was perseverant and his mundane utterances transformed into more demanding ones now. Before we could even sort out if it was him being indefinitely convincing or us being absolutely gullible, Sandhya stepped inside the SUV. I shot one tentative look at Karen and did the most insane thing. I meekly followed Sandhya into the creepy stranger’s four-wheeler and witnessed the stranger’s lips curled into a triumphant smirk. 

While he asked for our address, we insisted that he drop us off a couple of blocks before the junction. The car ride was hushed, mostly because we were petrified and consented to random horrific fables of human trafficking, forceful abductions, and merciless murders pervade our thoughts. Memories of my parents who were out of town, friends who promised to treat me with burgers, neighbours who wouldn’t cease being nosy, teachers who threatened to ensure that I didn’t pass the ninth grade, and the anonymous handsome commoner with whom I made eye contact in public transport came gushing as the car suddenly veered to left and went astray from the road which showed us to the junction. 

When we confronted him about it with blatant panic, the car came to a firm halt. Another moment of sheer stillness, the driver slowly turned around, removed his black shades, and nervously exhaled as he faced us. It was only then he introduced himself to be the manager of a reputed shoe sales company and requested that we advertise his finest products at our school and assist his company flourish. As elated and relieved as we were to finally descend the SUV unharmed it was equally challenging to suppress the erupting laughter right after we realized that the serial killer guy as we assumed him to be was a salesperson seeking advertising assistance. After bidding farewell to the driver and properly expressing our gratitude, we made it to the junction at 6.40 PM. 

A familiar horn sound intervened our giggles and sniggers which were a consequence of whatever just happened and our heads snapped to meet a packed bus that was actually capable of taking us home. The crowd was the least of our fret then and we attempted hard and squeezed our way into the bus. Nonetheless, it didn’t take long for the bus conductor to perceive the asphyxiation we suffered, incessant bumps the bus encountered, and the clumsy clasps we had on the rod which threatened to throw us out of the bus, and gently kick us out of the bus and instructed us to board a less packed bus.

I glanced at my watch once again and it was 7 PM then. Desperately desiring to go home, we impulsively ascended the next less packed bus we could spot. We were instantly greeted by the queer and perplexed glances, more like you-don’t-belong-here glances the passengers threw. Oh, we forgot to check the bus number when we got in. Is it okay to blame it on the darkness that obfuscated our vision if it makes us feel any better?

 Before we could reach out to the driver or conductor and request them to stop the public transport the bus took another sharp left turn into a narrow street directing to the underdeveloped part of the city, the part where we never have been to, the part which we hadn’t the faintest notion existed. It was arduous to keep track of the turns the bus took within the street. For a fact, I know that it definitely wouldn’t near the number of turns our day took. When the bus finally stopped, we hastily got down along with 20 other passengers who eagerly inquired about our whereabouts, and Sandhya patiently attending to every one of them.

 There we were, three ordinary teenagers, lost and famished. We stood in the middle of something resembling a labyrinth, ignoring the incessant barks of the street dogs and anxiously plotting our next move. One of the passengers from the bus was considerate enough to find us an auto. Thanking her, we quickly got into the auto and instructed the directions to the driver. 

Nervously, yet contently laughing we silently watched as the auto retraced the ample turns inside the narrow street which the bus initially entered and joined the main road around 7.15 PM. A surge of overwhelming satisfaction took us over as we watched eerie blocks transforming into well-known edifices as we motioned away from the peculiar part of the city.

 The scent of familiarity hit us as we entered our acreage. Joy flooded as we eventually entered our neighbourhood and when the auto pulled up at the driveway. That wasn’t the first time I was getting down at Sandhya’s but can’t really assure if I’ve ever been that happy. We split the sum, paid the auto driver, and flexed into the couch still in wonderment unable to process whatever transpired. We then ringed up our worried parents and announced our arrival shortly. This mayhem had almost made us forget that our final exams commenced the next day. Well, at least we were home.  

chilling gore psychological story thriller violence



(Viewer Discretion is Advised)

It was time to wake up and once again he had a splitting headache; like a hangover. The past few months had been hell for our protagonist. Every time he woke up with a headache, something bad would’ve happened. Not knowing why this was happening was killing him on the inside, as if something was eating him from within, consuming his soul, slowly, until nothing was left to devour. He had no strength left to get out of bed, knowing that something would be waiting for him, something that would finally break him and his mind. Somehow, he convinced himself to get out of bed and get dressed for work, his body trembling in fear. Since it was a chilly morning, he decided to wear his long coat. When he put his hands in the pocket of the coat, he found a list of names scribbled on a paper, names of people he knew, crossed out in red. He had tried to get rid of that list many times before but he couldn’t seem to do so. Holding the list in his hand, he did not know who it was this time, the fear of knowing someone he knew would be no more, maybe living in denial would bring them back or make it seem like that they never went away.

As he opened his front door and walked into the lobby of his old and gloomy building, he saw the corpse of his landlord being taken away, covered in blood, eyes gouged out and fingers cut off. He saw the cops talking to his neighbor, a college girl, in her final year, about to graduate. She had beautiful golden hair and brown eyes that complimented her smile very well. But today she seemed scared, shook to her core, her hair was a mess, probably bed hair, and she was shivering. Was it the cold? Or was it the sight of the old man’s corpse? I couldn’t tell

A detective noticed our protagonist and walked up to him and informed him about the situation and asked him a few general questions, if he saw anyone or anything suspicious, about his whereabouts, and if he had heard anything the previous night. He calmly answered the questions and proceeded to go to work, on the inside he was terrified and wondered if his landlord’s name was on that list. As he got on the 10 AM train, he slowly pulled out the list and mustered up whatever mental strength he could find, and opened the list. Right there, on the eleventh number, he saw the name of his landlord, scratched off with red ink, or was it blood… The train’s brakes were suddenly applied and the screeching sound that followed only amplified his headache. At that moment he heard a voice in his head saying that the landlord deserved it, that justice had been done. He immediately started sweating and became anxious.

(Flashback to the previous evening when he was returning from work and walked into the lobby of his drab building.)

He saw his neighbor being cornered by the old landlord, trying to take advantage of the poor girl. As soon as the landlord noticed him, he backed off and his neighbor rushed into her apartment while sobbing. The landlord made a face that showed his displeasure at our protagonist and slowly walked away while rolling his eyes. Our protagonist then went to check on her and comforted her, but there was nothing he could say that would turn back time. He heard her whisper under her breath that she wished the old man would die a gruesome death. This triggered something inside him, something dark, was it the voice in his head or was something darker at play here. His head suddenly started aching and he went to bed.

Right as the clock struck 3 in the morning, he woke up, put on his long coat and picked up some stuff, few rags, a bucket, some tools, and calmly made his way to the landlord’s house. Fortunately, the old man lived alone, his wife had passed away 13 years ago and his children despised him. He knocked on the old man’s door. After a minute the door creaked open and the old man’s shriveled up silhouette was seen against the streetlight coming from the window behind him. He immediately knocked him out with a hammer on the head and dragged him inside and closed the door behind him. He tied him up on a chair and stuffed his mouth and tied it with a piece of cloth. He woke him up with a splash of water and whispered in his ear about what he was going to do to him, and smirked under the flickering light. He cut off his fingers slowly, one at a time, showing the old man the fate that awaited him and kept going until all his fingers were gone. Picking up a spoon from the kitchen, he made his way towards the old man’s eyes and gouged one of them out. The muffled scream, making him more eager to remove the other one out. Eventually, the screaming stopped and he cut his jugular vein and let him bleed to death. He collected all his tools and made his way back to his apartment, trying not to leave any evidence behind. He immediately made a list and scribbled a few names and crossed them out with the blood of the old man and slipped it in the coat pocket and went to bed after getting rid of any biological evidence he could find.

(Back in the present)

His sweating had stopped and he was as calm as he could be. The train reached the last stop and he made his way onto the platform. The train had stopped at a small town on the outskirts of the city. He made his way to a nearby bridge and sat on the bench that was next to it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a gun. He put the gun against the side of his head and whispered under his breath, “Justice has been done” and pulled the trigger, killing the twelfth and thirteenth person…

murder story thriller Uncategorised violence



It was a cold Friday morning, and I didn’t feel like waking up. My back hurt a lot from last night. I kept going back to sleep. But finally, I pulled myself from my bed, trying to forget everything that happened last night. As I wash my face, I see a wound near my lips. From the corner of my bruised eye, I see Derek walk towards me. My hands started to shake in fear, and I just froze. He came closer and just hugged me from behind and said I love you. I smiled a bit, more than which I couldn’t. I dusted the whole thing off, and I was going to go back to sleep when Derek came around carrying a hammer with blood dripping from it. My eyes widen as he runs towards me to hit me with a hammer; the radio is being turned on.

“Mama, just killed a man

Put a gun against his head

Pulled my trigger, now he’s dead

Mama, life had just begun

But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away”

There walks Michael with blood all over his shirt, staring at us in the eye. 

Too late, my time has come

Sent shivers down my spine

Body’s aching all the time

I was in shock. I didn’t know what was going on. My legs felt numb, and I fell to the ground. Everything was way beyond my understanding, and I was looking around, and all I saw was blood. Before I could even realize it, Michael fell in his pool of blood. Derek scoffs, and he turns towards me, and all I wanted was to escape. 

I see a little silhouetto of a man

Scaramouche, Scaramouche

Will you do the Fandango?

Thunderbolt and lightning

Very, very frightening me

He walks towards me with the same hammer. As I bleed through my vagina, he raises the hammer and SLAM!!!!!!!!!


*the alarm rings*

I started breathing heavily and profusely sweating. It was a cold Friday morning. My back hurt a lot from last night. I kept going back to sleep. But finally, I pulled myself from my bed, trying to forget everything that happened last night. As I was dressing up to leave for work, I see Michael walk towards me from the corner of my bruised eye. He hugs me from behind as I stand there. 

*The doorbell rings*

I went to answer the doorbell, and I see Derek there. 

“Hi, Laila! I hope I didn’t disturb you,” said Derek.

I stand there baffled when Michael plays the radio. 

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality

*Bohemian Rhapsody plays in the background*

I had instincts that something is going to go wrong, but I chose to ignore it. 

I started applying makeup to cover the bruises under my eye and…

*glass breaks*

I ran to the living room to see what happened, and I saw Derek lying on the ground, while 

*Nothing really matters

Anyone can see

Nothing really matters

Nothing really matters to me* feebly plays in the background.