Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
The Shop Downtown
It was a strange and terrifying feeling to forget your own name. “H-harrows, I mean, uh—Harry Hollows.” It was supposed to be my first day of work at the local…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
On The First Night
Reverie 09:59, 3rd January The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly. My mind was in a daze, only focusing on the fact I was late. The unfamiliar walls, windows and waves…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
The Looking Glass
7.42 PM Chloe Carter leant against the white edge of the alcove between Rooms 11 and 13, breath grey and misted, as she itched for another cigarette. She scratched her…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
The 13th Hour
The mantelpiece clock let out a low mechanical sigh, Then plunged at full speed into its twelve wailing chimes, The silence was disrupted by the ripple of sound waves, Like…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
The Fireworks At Midnight
Estelle 23:04, 12th December Chilled air wafted through my hair, basked in starlight and carnival luminescence. The wind was not quite strong enough to mess up the perm I just…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
Book Reviews: The Midnight Stories
Midnight Books: Midnight in London By stelreadsloads12 Hello, everyone! On this week’s adventure to finding the perfect midnight story, I’ll be reviewing a pretty unknown book—Midnight In London. I found…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
In White
Midnight is a curse. The house holds its breath like a prayer, silence sewing itself into the walls. There is nothing signifying that this place is a home, the fluorescent…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
In The Mirror
The frigid air blanketed everything in sight; Leo slowly dragged his leather booths on the snow ladened pathway. With one hand, he adjusted his grey beanie so that his head…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
Hyacinth Lane
It is often felt, and less remarked upon, that the most bothersome thing in the world is to wait. It requires both patience and a strong mind to allow enough…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
No More Christmas
“That’s right, I killed Santa.” The words were out of my mouth, sharp and final, as I watched the light dim in my five-year-old son’s eyes. My heart clenched, painfully…