short storty

Spring-Loaded Carnage

Leave a Comment / Creative / AJB / May 9, 2025 / Five Nights at Freddy’s, fnaf, horror, murder, short storty, springtrap bonnie

Reading Time: 7 minutesEthan Miller had always scavenged the abandoned industrial stretch outside Willow Creek for “cool junk.” At thirteen, he was a wiry, grease-caked prodigy with a garage full of clanking dreams—busted radios, broken RC cars, a rust-pocked arcade cabinet that still flashed INSERT COIN in epileptic desperation. But nothing compared to the treasure he unearthed that gray November afternoon.

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The Love That Has No Name – Chapter Three – The Chapel Beneath
Reading Time: 13 minutesThe dreams started again that night. They weren't sweet dreams like the ones Rowan used to have as a child. These were deep and vast, like looking up at a night sky that went on forever, except this sky was inside her head. Every night they came, thick and slow, filled with a feeling as old as time itself.
Spring-Loaded Carnage
Reading Time: 7 minutesEthan Miller had always scavenged the abandoned industrial stretch outside Willow Creek for “cool junk.” At thirteen, he was a wiry, grease-caked prodigy with a garage full of clanking dreams—busted radios, broken RC cars, a rust-pocked arcade cabinet that still flashed INSERT COIN in epileptic desperation. But nothing compared to the treasure he unearthed that gray November afternoon.
The Love That Has No Name – Chapter Two – The House on Wither’s Hill
Reading Time: 13 minutesThe world outside held its breath, wrapped in a thick fog that smothered the jagged cliffs and muffled the ocean's roar. For three long days, it refused to lift, holding the isolated house on Wither's Hill prisoner. But Rowan barely noticed the weather. Her mind was elsewhere, her body driven by a nervous energy that raced through her veins like lightning.
The Love That Has No Name – Chapter One – Back to Breakwater Bay
Reading Time: 6 minutesRowan Dane didn't cry when she found David kissing his assistant in the gallery office. Not when he said she was "too cold," that she loved paintings more than people. Not even when he packed his silk ties and cologne and left without a goodbye.
READY OR NOT, IT’S TRAVIS
Reading Time: 35 minutesAt 3:07 a.m., inside the restricted corridors of CERN, a countdown reached zero. A dead physicist twitched on the floor. The Temporal Gate—a machine that should never have worked—surged open in a storm of violet light. And from its impossible core, a man stepped through. No ID. No history.