Slash Magazine Contributor

Written By: Graham Smith Chapter 1 The town is Rooktrack. Usually missed on a hairpin turn and hardly worth the trouble of turning back for, this is the town that spent its twilight years in crisis mode.

Written By: Eleanor Keisman A fragrant breeze drifted over me just as the pregnant woman passed by. I like to imagine it was her I was smelling.

Written By: D.S. Burton Mar. 8, 1885. DEAR NESSIE, I apologise for writing late. I have been bound to the bathroom for some days, which, might I add, is terribly mouldy, cold, and resides in the basement where water leaks from the foundation of this shack of a house.

Written By: Akshat Pathak Alone I stood in the thicket. The dogs growled at me Their jaws monstrous, a frightful Sight shook my body.

Written By: Ayyub Hussain My therapist’s drugs weren’t working And I needed a cure This depression’s been the worst I feared that it’d cave me in

Written By: Aleksa Krkeljas I’ve been a sleepwalker for years.  I am deep in the woods. It’s cold and pitch-black. An owl stares at me from a branch, while its companion in the distance lets out a succession of hoots.