Short Stories

Jack has had more than 50 popular short stories, published by Creepy Catalog, that have been viewed by millions online.

 
 
Image Credit:  Aaron Anderson

Image Credit: Aaron Anderson

Snorkeling

A high school student discovers a mysterious new drug on Reddit that brings him closer to the girl of his dreams, but also drags him into a dangerous world after he witnesses the murder of one of his classmates.

Excerpt: Some called it snorkeling, some called it scuba diving but it didn’t matter, they were the same thing… killing yourself to live.

I discovered snorkeling on a deep, deep dive into the Internet. The search for just the right kind of free porn led me to its riches. I closed three pop-up bubbles before I got to the digitally-ancient-looking forum which promised to house a rare database of vintage porn from the late-90s, the nice softcore kind I grew up with.

I couldn’t find the fine cinema I was looking for, but I quickly stopped caring. The forum was instead loaded with the kind of controversial conversations you only have in the privacy of anonymity, conspiracy theories I had actually never even heard before and the kind of gruesome pictures which keep you up at night.

I clicked on the first topic listed on the forum titled: SNORKELING.

A disclaimer greeted me upon entering the thread.

WARNING: The views and opinions expressed on this thread are not representative of this forum. The forum is not responsible for any damages caused by any individuals recreating or attempting any activities or actions described in this thread. This thread is simply a place to relay stories, strategies and insights into personal activity and is in no way supposed to be instructional.

I couldn’t have dived into the thread faster after having read that. Warn a young male to stay off the grass and it’s only going to make him run to it faster.

The first post in the thread was an explanation from a user named JessePinkman42069.


Home, Alone

A teenage boy’s world unravels when a sinister uninvited guest crashes the house parties he throws while his parents are out of town.

Excerpt: The automatic light above the garage was broken again. A pale shock of illumination flickered through the open spaces in the blinds of my bedroom. Waking me in the middle of the night.

“Mother of fuck,” I groaned and rolled out of the soft massage of warmth of my bed and out into the cold air of my bedroom.

The remnants of the half bottle of Wild Turkey I downed before sleep stoked me with a little bit of heat, but still couldn’t fully comfort the pads of my feet when they touched on the hardwood on the way to the large window in the corner of my bedroom.

The auto light above the garage outside the house had been malfunctioning the past few nights. I woke a number of times in the middle of the night because it shined right into my room when it came on. It was only supposed to flick on when someone pulled into or walked up into the driveway, but it was coming on almost bi-hourly at this point each night.

I could see the light still shining through the blinds when I staggered up to my bedroom window and pulled the drawstring cord open. What the absence of the cheap wooden blinds revealed was not what I expected.

Photo Credit: Sarah Brams-Miller

Photo Credit: Sarah Brams-Miller


Image Credit: Lewis Hay

Image Credit: Lewis Hay

Tennessee

A man travels to his rural Tennessee hometown to care for his dying father and begins to unravel the dark truth about his young cousin’s suicide.

Excerpt: Dad decided to drink himself to death. See you at the funeral.

I recognized the juvenile handwriting of my younger brother Billy immediately. The note was scrawled on the letterhead of his plumbing company which had gone under just a few weeks before.
I crumpled up the note and tossed it into the pile of trash in the kitchen sink.

“Levi?” My dad’s voice croaked like a bullfrog from the living room.

“Yeah,” I stopped myself as soon as I walked into the living room, the sight of my dad too jarring to continue the sentence I started.

My dad already looked like an embalmed corpse. He looked like a photo of a guy of a guy who fell into an underground bees nest in Africa I saw on the Internet once. He looked like the Michelin man. Basically, he looked like hot shit baking on the sidewalk of some hot city sidewalk.

I recognized my dad’s lucky bottle of Potter’s Crown whiskey resting next to his bed right away, about a finger’s width of caramel liquid left in the bottom of the crimped glass. It was 1:47 p.m.